The early morning mist clung to the streets of Ashenfall as Eryndor and Kaelith descended the steps of the archives. Veylin's warning echoed in Eryndor's mind with every step.
Three relics left. If one falls, the veil collapses.
Kaelith tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, glancing at him. "You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"That's dangerous."
Eryndor smirked faintly but didn't respond. The truth was, his cursed arm hadn't stopped burning since they left the archives. Whatever force was tied to the relics—it was close.
As they rounded a corner, Kaelith stopped abruptly, holding out an arm to block Eryndor's path.
"Look." She nodded toward the far end of the street.
A group of soldiers in silver and black armor patrolled the market square, their crests unmistakable—The King's Blades.
"Rhoan's men," Eryndor muttered.
Kaelith's hand rested on her dagger. "You think they're here for us?"
Eryndor shook his head. "Not yet. But if they find out we're after the relics, they won't stand aside."
Kaelith exhaled slowly. "So we avoid them."
"Agreed."
They slipped down a side alley, weaving through narrow streets until the noise of the soldiers faded behind them. As they walked, Kaelith broke the silence.
"Veylin said the next relic is beneath the city, right? How exactly do we get under a city without raising suspicion?"
Eryndor gestured ahead. "There's an entrance. The old catacombs run beneath Ashenfall. Veylin marked the passage for me years ago."
Kaelith raised a brow. "Convenient."
"Not really," Eryndor replied. "It's been sealed for decades. Getting in won't be simple."
Kaelith's smirk returned. "Lucky for you, I'm good at getting into places I shouldn't."
The catacomb entrance was tucked behind the ruins of an ancient temple near the city's southern quarter. A crumbling statue of a forgotten god loomed over the stone door, half-buried beneath ivy.
Eryndor knelt, brushing away the vines to reveal a series of faint runes carved into the stone. The symbols were weathered, but he recognized the pattern—a binding seal, similar to the one on the relic they'd broken.
"Looks like someone didn't want this opened," Kaelith remarked, crouching beside him.
"Which means we're in the right place."
Eryndor placed his hand against the stone. The moment his cursed arm touched the surface, the runes flared, pulsing with blue light.
Kaelith took a step back. "I'm going to assume that's not normal."
"No," Eryndor said quietly. "It's responding to the flame."
The stone door trembled, the old seal slowly unraveling beneath his touch. With a soft grind, the door shifted open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
Kaelith peered down, one hand on her hip. "I hate ancient staircases."
Eryndor stepped through the threshold, drawing his sword. "You can stay up here if you want."
Kaelith snorted. "Not a chance."
The air grew colder as they descended, the light from above fading with each step. The catacombs smelled of damp stone and forgotten history. The walls were lined with carvings—faint images of battles, kings, and dragons etched into the stone.
Kaelith ran her fingers along one of the carvings as they walked. "These look older than the city."
"They are," Eryndor replied. "Ashenfall was built over ruins. This place existed long before the capital."
As they reached the bottom of the staircase, the passage opened into a wide chamber. A single stone platform stood at the center, draped in heavy chains. On the platform rested a relic—similar to the one from the forest.
But this one was different.
It pulsed.
Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't look good."
Eryndor approached the platform cautiously. The relic was small, barely the size of his palm, and shaped like a dragon's eye. The chains rattled faintly as he drew near, as if the relic could sense him.
Kaelith crossed her arms. "You sure touching that thing is a good idea?"
"No," Eryndor admitted. "But we're running out of time."
Before he could reach for the relic, a voice echoed from the shadows.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Eryndor spun around, sword raised. From the far side of the chamber, Captain Rhoan emerged, flanked by two King's Blades. His eyes glinted in the low light, calm but watchful.
Kaelith groaned softly. "Of course he followed us."
Rhoan's gaze shifted to the relic. "That artifact is bound for a reason. Breaking the seal will only hasten what's coming."
Eryndor didn't lower his sword. "And if we leave it here, someone else will break it."
Rhoan stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "I know you think you're doing the right thing, Eryndor. But this isn't a battle you can win alone."
Kaelith rolled her eyes. "We're not alone."
Rhoan's expression hardened. "You're relic hunters. This is beyond you."
Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed brighter, the flames casting long shadows against the chamber walls. He met Rhoan's gaze steadily.
"Maybe," Eryndor said. "But relic hunter or not, I'm not letting this city burn."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The chamber was silent, save for the faint pulsing of the relic.
Finally, Rhoan exhaled and stepped back. "Take it," he said. "But if the veil tears because of you… I'll be the one to stop you."
Eryndor lowered his blade but said nothing. He turned back to the relic, reaching out with his cursed hand. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, blue fire flared around the platform, shattering the chains in an instant.
The relic lifted into the air, hovering just above his palm.
Kaelith stepped closer, her eyes locked on the relic. "That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?"
Eryndor clenched his fist, extinguishing the flames.
"No," he said quietly. "It wasn't."