The relic hovered above Eryndor's palm, its surface smooth and cold despite the blue fire dancing around it. Kaelith took a cautious step back, watching as the last traces of the chains dissolved into shimmering embers on the stone floor.
"That's not supposed to happen," Kaelith said, her voice tense.
Eryndor slowly lowered the relic, wrapping it in a cloth and tucking it into his pack. The faint pulsing from the artifact didn't stop, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Rhoan, still standing at the edge of the chamber, narrowed his eyes. "The veil's weakening faster than I thought. That relic shouldn't have reacted to you."
Eryndor glanced at him. "Why not?"
Rhoan crossed his arms. "Because it only responds to two things—bloodline or prophecy. And I know for a fact you're not part of the royal line."
Kaelith raised a brow. "Prophecy? That's vague and incredibly unhelpful."
Rhoan ignored her, stepping closer until he stood eye-to-eye with Eryndor. "Whatever bond you have with the relics, it's dangerous. You've felt it—haven't you? The fire burning hotter. The curse spreading."
Eryndor met Rhoan's gaze, but the captain's words struck deeper than he wanted to admit. The curse had been growing stronger, more unstable, ever since they'd broken the first relic's seal.
"I'll handle it," Eryndor said firmly.
Rhoan's eyes flicked to Eryndor's cursed arm. "See that you do. Because if you lose control… I won't hesitate to stop you."
Kaelith stepped between them, holding up a hand. "Alright, boys, enough with the glaring contest. Let's focus on not dying first."
Eryndor sighed and turned toward the exit. "We have the relic. Let's get out of here before something else wakes up."
They climbed the spiral staircase in silence, emerging once more into the overgrown ruins near the city's edge. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets of Ashenfall.
Kaelith pulled her cloak tighter. "So, what now? Do we wait for another shadow creature to show up and give us cryptic warnings?"
"No," Eryndor replied, adjusting the strap of his pack. "We find the next relic."
Kaelith raised a brow. "You're seriously suggesting we dive straight into another ancient tomb after this?"
Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed faintly beneath his sleeve. "We don't have a choice. Veylin said three relics remain. If even one of them breaks, the dragon under this city wakes up."
Kaelith sighed, falling into step beside him. "I liked it better when dragons were just old myths."
As they neared the main road, a soft vibration hummed through the ground beneath their feet. Eryndor stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing.
Kaelith froze. "Did you feel that?"
Before Eryndor could answer, a distant bell began to toll. The sound echoed through the streets—slow and deliberate.
Rhoan's expression darkened. "That's the city alarm."
Kaelith glanced around. "For what? There's no fire. No sign of attack."
Rhoan's hand went to his sword. "There is now."
Eryndor followed his gaze. In the distance, along the far end of the city wall, a crack had begun to spread. At first, it seemed like nothing more than fractured stone—but as they watched, shadows began to seep from the break, curling outward like smoke.
Kaelith's eyes widened. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."
Eryndor's cursed arm flared to life, blue fire licking at his fingertips. He could feel the pulse from the relic in his pack, syncing with whatever was stirring beyond the wall.
"It's the veil," Eryndor muttered. "It's breaking."
Rhoan turned sharply toward them. "If you have any tricks left, now's the time to use them."
Eryndor drew his sword, the runes along its blade igniting with ethereal flame. "We're out of tricks. We fight."
Kaelith grinned despite the tension. "At least you're predictable."
As the first figures emerged from the breach—twisted, half-formed creatures with glowing eyes—Eryndor stepped forward, flames burning brighter.
"The veil's not falling tonight," he said.
And with that, the battle for Ashenfall began.