Rowan stared at the faintly glowing shard in Ardyn's hand, his unease growing with every second. The air in the chamber had changed—it felt heavier, as if the shard's presence was bending the very fabric of the room.
"Is it supposed to do that?" Rowan asked, nodding toward the shard.
Ardyn's gaze didn't leave the artifact. His brow furrowed, and he turned the shard over in his hand, watching as faint tendrils of light curled out from it and dissolved into the air.
"It's… unusual," Ardyn admitted. "Most Binding Shards don't react like this."
Rowan took a cautious step back. "Unusual good or unusual 'we're-about-to-die'?"
Ardyn's lips quirked into a faint smirk, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "That depends on what this thing's bound to." He slipped the shard into a pouch on his belt and glanced toward the tunnel they'd come from. "We need to keep moving. If the Guardians were tied to this shard, there's no telling what else might show up now that it's been disturbed."
"Great," Rowan muttered, his body still aching from the fight. "Because what we need right now is more surprises."
The two of them retraced their steps through the winding tunnel, the faint hum of the shard's energy following them like an unspoken threat. The oppressive silence made every sound—every footstep, every shallow breath—seem deafening.
As they climbed the staircase back to the fortress courtyard, Rowan's mind raced with questions. What exactly was this shard, and why had Ardyn insisted on taking it? The mercenary's calm, calculated demeanor made Rowan feel like he was being dragged into something far bigger than either of them could handle.
When they emerged into the courtyard, the night sky greeted them, scattered with stars that seemed too bright for a world so grim. The glow on the horizon had faded, but Rowan could still feel the lingering tension in the air, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
"So, what now?" Rowan asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Ardyn glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "We find somewhere safe to rest. You're no good to me dead on your feet."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," Rowan muttered, but he didn't argue.
Ardyn led them toward a crumbled section of the fortress wall, where a narrow path wound down into the forest below. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches weaving together to form a canopy that blocked out most of the starlight.
Rowan followed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. The forest was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of nocturnal life replaced by an oppressive stillness. It felt as if the trees were watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike.
They didn't stop until they reached a small clearing, the moonlight breaking through the trees to illuminate the space. Ardyn motioned for Rowan to sit while he began setting up a crude perimeter, placing small metal devices at intervals around the clearing.
"What are those?" Rowan asked, lowering himself onto a patch of grass.
"Wards," Ardyn said without looking up. "They'll alert us if anything tries to get too close."
Rowan watched him work, the mercenary's movements precise and practiced. It was clear Ardyn had done this a hundred times before, maybe more. Rowan wondered how many of those nights had ended in bloodshed—and how many allies Ardyn had lost along the way.
"So," Rowan began, his tone hesitant, "are we just going to ignore the fact that we nearly died for that shard?"
Ardyn straightened, his eyes sharp as they met Rowan's. "I didn't 'nearly die.' You're the one still learning how to hold a sword properly."
Rowan bristled. "You know what I mean. Why take the risk? What's so important about it?"
Ardyn sighed, settling onto the ground across from Rowan. For a moment, he was silent, his gaze fixed on the stars.
"This shard," he said finally, "is connected to something bigger. Something old."
Rowan frowned. "Old like the Guardians?"
"Older," Ardyn said. "There are stories—legends, really—about the Binding Shards and the power they hold. Most of them are just that: stories. But some… some are warnings."
"Warnings about what?"
Ardyn's expression darkened. "About what happens when someone gathers enough of them. The kind of power they can unleash."
Rowan felt a chill run down his spine. "And you think someone's trying to do that?"
Ardyn didn't answer, but the look in his eyes was enough. Rowan's stomach twisted. He wasn't sure what was worse: the thought of someone wielding that kind of power, or the fact that they might already be too late to stop it.