Chapter 3:
The storm showed no signs of letting up as Arlen and Kael made their way out of the temple ruins. The air was thick with tension, the Shadowborn's ominous words echoing in their minds.
*The master is waking... and when he rises, all shall fall.*
Arlen's grip on his sword tightened as he glanced back at the altar. It felt as if the very ground beneath them was trembling with an unseen power, a reminder that they were running out of time.
"We need answers," he muttered, more to himself than to Kael.
Kael, clutching her arms against the cold, looked up at him. "Where do we go now?"
Arlen hesitated. He had spent most of his life wandering, avoiding attachments, avoiding responsibility. But now, with Kael at his side and the looming threat of the Wraithbound and their master, he felt a pull—a sense of duty he couldn't ignore.
"We find someone who knows more about this seal," he said finally. "There's an order, the Crimson Sentinels. They were sworn to protect the legacy of the Blood Souls. If anyone knows what's happening, it's them."
Kael's eyes widened. "The Sentinels? I thought they were just a myth."
Arlen allowed himself a grim smile. "Most legends are rooted in truth."
As they set off into the forest, the storm abated slightly, but the oppressive atmosphere remained. Kael walked close to Arlen, her wide eyes scanning the shadows.
"Do you think more Wraithbound will come for us?" she asked.
"They won't stop," Arlen replied. "Not until they've hunted down every Eye of Legend. And if what the Shadowborn said is true, they're only the beginning."
Kael shuddered but said nothing.
---
The journey to the Crimson Sentinels' stronghold took them across rugged terrain—through dense forests, jagged mountains, and forgotten villages left to ruin. Along the way, Arlen began to notice something unsettling.
His dreams, once fragmented glimpses of warriors long past, were becoming clearer. He saw battles fought centuries ago, not as a passive observer, but as if he were living them. He could feel the weight of their weapons, the sting of their wounds, and the crushing despair of their losses.
With each dream, he woke up feeling more... *distant*. Pieces of himself felt lost, as though the memories of others were pushing his own aside.
Kael noticed too. "You're quieter," she said one evening as they rested by a dying fire.
Arlen stared into the flames, his glowing eyes dim. "The more I use this power, the less of me there is," he admitted.
Kael looked at him, her expression softening. "But you keep going. Why?"
Arlen met her gaze. "Because if I don't, no one else will."
---
On the fourth day of their journey, they reached the ancient gates of the Crimson Sentinels' sanctuary, hidden deep within the cliffs of the Ironvale Mountains. The fortress loomed before them, its stone walls etched with glowing runes similar to those in the temple.
"Do you think they'll help us?" Kael asked, her voice tinged with awe and fear.
"They'll help," Arlen said, though he sounded more like he was convincing himself.
They approached the gates, and as they did, the runes flared to life. A booming voice echoed from within.
"Who comes before the Crimson Sentinels?"
Arlen stepped forward, his hand instinctively resting on his sword. "Arlen Kain, bearer of the Eyes of Legends. We seek your guidance."
The gates groaned open, revealing a vast courtyard filled with warriors clad in crimson armor. Their leader, a stern-looking woman with short silver hair and eyes that gleamed like molten gold, stepped forward.
"I am Lysara, Commander of the Crimson Sentinels," she said, her voice sharp as steel. "If you are truly a Blood Soul, then show us."
Arlen nodded, his eyes flaring with an otherworldly light. Gasps rippled through the gathered Sentinels, but Lysara remained composed.
"So it's true," she murmured. "The Eyes of Legends have returned."
"Not just returned," Arlen said. "They're being hunted. The Wraithbound are on the move, and the seals meant to hold back the darkness are failing. Something is waking."
Lysara's expression darkened. "Come inside. There is much to discuss."
---
Inside the stronghold, Arlen and Kael were led to a chamber filled with ancient scrolls, maps, and artifacts. Lysara gestured to a massive map etched into the stone wall, its surface marked with glowing points of light.
"These are the seals," she explained. "There were seven in total, placed across the world to bind the Dark Sovereign, an ancient entity of immeasurable power. If the seals are failing..."
"They are," Arlen interrupted. "We saw it ourselves. The Wraithbound are being drawn to them."
Lysara nodded grimly. "Then the situation is worse than I feared. If the Sovereign rises, even the Blood Souls may not be enough to stop him."
Kael stepped forward, her voice trembling. "But why now? What's causing the seals to break?"
Lysara hesitated before answering. "The seals draw their power from the Blood Souls. As their numbers dwindled, so too did the strength of the bindings. And now, with so few of you left..."
Her gaze shifted to Arlen. "You may be the last hope of reforging the seals. But it will require a sacrifice."
Arlen's heart sank. "What kind of sacrifice?"
"The Eyes of Legends are not just a gift—they are a vessel," Lysara said. "To restore the seals, you must give a part of yourself to them. Memories, strength... even your soul."
Kael's eyes filled with tears. "But... he'll lose himself."
Lysara's expression softened. "It is the price of power. Only a Blood Soul can bear it."
Arlen stood in silence, the weight of her words sinking in. He had always known his path would lead to sacrifice, but hearing it laid bare was something else entirely.
Finally, he turned to Lysara. "Tell me what I need to do."
---
Outside, the storm began to clear, revealing a blood-red moon hanging low in the sky. Somewhere in the distance, a deep, resonant pulse shook the earth—the sound of the Dark Sovereign stirring in its slumber.
And Arlen knew the fight was far from over.
---