The forest spat them out like unwelcome guests. The oppressive darkness of the Shade of Dread gave way to a barren expanse of ash-gray earth under a blood-red sky. The twisted trees of the forest loomed behind them, their skeletal branches swaying despite the lack of wind.
Kael scanned the horizon, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Where are we?"
Sylara leaned heavily on him, her steps faltering as they trudged forward. "The Wasting Expanse," she said between shallow breaths. "A scar left by the Nithralis long before Nightshade."
Kael frowned. "It feels… empty."
"Not empty," Sylara corrected. "Dormant."
The ground beneath them cracked with each step, and Kael noticed faint veins of crimson pulsing beneath the surface. The corruption was here, too, seeping through the earth like blood from an old wound.
He tightened his grip on Sylara's arm, steadying her. "You need to rest."
She shook her head weakly. "Not here. The corruption—if we stop, it'll seep into us."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then we move quickly."
The Caravan of the Damned
It wasn't long before they spotted movement on the horizon—a slow procession of figures trudging through the wasteland. At first, Kael assumed they were Shadeborne, but as they drew closer, he realized these were no monsters.
They were people.
Gaunt, hollow-eyed, and clad in rags, the travelers marched in silence, their faces blank with despair. A crude wooden cart trailed behind them, piled high with bodies.
Kael's instincts screamed danger, but Sylara grabbed his arm. "Wait," she whispered.
One of the travelers turned toward them, his sunken eyes narrowing. His lips parted, revealing teeth stained black as he let out a low hiss.
"They're not alive," Sylara said, her voice trembling. "They're… bound. The corruption is controlling them."
The traveler raised a bony hand, pointing directly at them. The procession stopped, and heads turned in unison, their hollow gazes fixing on Kael and Sylara.
"Run," Kael growled, drawing his sword.
A Gauntlet of Despair
The corrupted travelers moved with terrifying speed, their shambling forms suddenly lunging as if puppeteered by some unseen force.
Kael swung his greatsword, cleaving through the first wave with brutal efficiency. Black ichor sprayed from the wounds, but the creatures didn't stop. They clawed and grabbed, their gnarled hands reaching for him as if drawn to his curse.
"Keep moving!" Kael shouted.
Sylara obeyed, summoning a flickering barrier to deflect the creatures as she stumbled forward. Each step was a struggle, her magic barely holding under the weight of her exhaustion.
Kael fought to keep the creatures off her, his sword flashing in the dim light. For every one he struck down, two more took its place, their relentless advance threatening to overwhelm him.
One of the creatures latched onto his arm, its blackened nails digging into his flesh. He snarled, wrenching free and slamming his sword into its chest.
But the whispers in his mind grew louder, drowning out even the sounds of battle.
"You can't save her, Kael. You'll fail her just like the others."
Kael gritted his teeth, pushing the voices down as he hacked his way through the horde.
The Watcher in the Dark
As they fought their way forward, a new presence made itself known. A figure stood on a rise in the distance, watching the chaos unfold. Clad in tattered robes that billowed in an unseen wind, its face was hidden beneath a hood, but Kael felt its gaze boring into him.
"Nightshade," he growled.
"No," Sylara said, her voice shaking. "That's something else."
The figure raised a hand, and the ground beneath them erupted. Crimson tendrils shot up, snaring Kael and Sylara in their grip.
Kael struggled against the bonds, but they tightened with every movement, cutting into his flesh. Sylara cried out as the tendrils began to pull her toward the robed figure.
"Kael!" she screamed, reaching for him.
He roared in defiance, summoning every ounce of strength to break free. His curse flared, the voices in his mind merging into a single, overwhelming command:
"Destroy."
The tendrils around him disintegrated, and he surged forward, his sword raised. The robed figure didn't flinch, its hand still outstretched as Sylara was dragged closer.
Kael threw himself at the tendrils binding her, his blade cutting through them in a single swing. Sylara collapsed into his arms, trembling but alive.
The robed figure tilted its head, as if amused, before dissolving into shadow.
A Bitter Truth
Kael carried Sylara until they reached a small outcrop of rock, offering a momentary reprieve from the endless wasteland. He set her down gently, her breathing shallow but steady.
"Who was that?" he asked, his voice low.
Sylara shook her head. "I don't know. But it's connected to the Nithralis. That much is clear."
Kael sat beside her, staring out at the expanse. The crimson veins beneath the ground pulsed faintly, a reminder that the corruption was everywhere.
"This isn't just about Nightshade," he said. "The Nithralis… it's bigger than him. Bigger than us."
Sylara nodded. "It's ancient. And if we're going to stop it, we need to understand it."
Kael's gaze hardened. "Then we find someone who does."
The Scholar of Ruins
Sylara's recovery was slow, but they eventually resumed their journey, guided by faint rumors Sylara recalled from her time studying magic.
"There's a scholar," she said. "An outcast, living in the ruins of Veylorn. If anyone knows the origins of the Nithralis, it's him."
"An outcast?" Kael asked.
"Banished from the mage orders for forbidden research," Sylara explained. "If he's still alive, he might be our best chance."
Their path took them deeper into the Wasting Expanse, the air growing colder and the land more desolate with every step.
The ruins of Veylorn were a stark contrast to the wasteland. Once a great city, its crumbling towers now stood as monuments to its fall. The streets were littered with debris, and the faint hum of corrupted magic hung in the air.
At the heart of the ruins, they found him—a thin, pale man hunched over a table cluttered with scrolls and artifacts. His long, unkempt hair framed a face marked with scars and ink stains.
He didn't look up as they approached. "You're either very brave or very foolish to come here," he said, his voice a rasp.
"We need answers," Kael said.
The scholar finally looked at them, his piercing gray eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think I'll give them to you?"
Kael stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the dim light. "Because if you don't, you'll have more than just the Nithralis to fear."
The scholar smirked, unperturbed. "Very well," he said, gesturing for them to sit. "Let's talk about the end of the world."
End of Chapter 4