The light was blinding. It flooded Kaelen's vision, stabbing into his mind like molten needles. For a moment, he was weightless, his body suspended in an endless void where time and sound had no meaning.
Then came the voices.
They were faint at first, a murmur at the edge of his awareness. But as the light faded, the whispers grew louder, overlapping and echoing in ways that defied logic.
"Take it."
"You are not ready."
"Power is pain. Do you still seek it?"
Kaelen gasped, his hand pulling back from the shard instinctively. The voices stopped, leaving only the faint hum of the Dominion Spire behind.
He stumbled backward, his breaths ragged. The shard still pulsed at the base of the spire, its glow shifting between blue and violet, as though mocking him. His chest tightened. It wasn't like the smaller shard he'd found earlier—this one had a presence. A will.
Kaelen wiped sweat from his brow, his legs trembling. "What… are you?" he muttered under his breath.
The shard offered no answers.
But even as Kaelen tried to push the voices from his mind, he felt the hunger growing stronger. The shard's power was undeniable. He had felt it—just a glimpse—and it was more than he could have imagined.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The Ashlands weren't kind to hesitation. Power wasn't something you debated over. You took it, or you died.
Kaelen took a step forward.
The whispers returned immediately, sharper this time, cutting through his thoughts like glass. He grit his teeth, pushing through the pain as he knelt beside the shard. The hum of the spire seemed to intensify, the air around him growing heavy with chaotic energy.
With a deep breath, Kaelen reached for the shard again.
The moment his fingers touched its surface, the world shifted.
---
Kaelen was no longer in the clearing. He stood in a vast expanse of black, the ground beneath him smooth and reflective, like polished obsidian. The air was still, suffocatingly so, and above him, the sky stretched endlessly, fractured by glowing lines of light that pulsed like veins.
"You stand before the First Flame," a voice boomed, deep and resonant.
Kaelen turned sharply, his hand instinctively going for his dagger—but the weapon was gone.
A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. Its form was humanoid but blurred at the edges, as though it wasn't fully tethered to reality. Its eyes burned with a fierce, golden light, and its voice seemed to echo from every direction at once.
"The shard you seek is a fragment of my dominion," the figure said, its tone neither hostile nor welcoming. "It is not given. It is earned."
Kaelen swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn't know what this being was—an Eidolon, perhaps, or some remnant of the Primordial Wills. Either way, it was clear this wasn't going to be easy.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear twisting in his gut.
The figure tilted its head, as though considering him. "A test," it said simply. "To claim the shard, you must prove your resolve."
Before Kaelen could respond, the ground beneath him cracked, and he fell.
---
The fall was endless, and then it wasn't.
Kaelen landed hard, his knees slamming against cold stone. Pain flared through his legs, but he forced himself to his feet, his eyes darting around his new surroundings.
He was back in his village—or at least, a version of it. The buildings were intact, their wooden frames untouched by fire or ruin. The air smelled of fresh bread and rain, and the distant laughter of children echoed through the streets.
Kaelen's chest tightened. He hadn't seen his village like this in years. Not since…
"Kaelen!"
He froze.
The voice was familiar—achingly so. He turned slowly, and there she was: a girl with dark hair and bright, curious eyes, her smile wide and unguarded. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched, and for a moment, Kaelen's heart stopped.
"Sera," he whispered.
His sister.
She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head with a playful grin. "What are you doing just standing there? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Kaelen opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. His hands trembled at his sides, and his mind screamed that this wasn't real, that it couldn't be real.
But Sera didn't wait for him to answer. She turned and began running toward the village square, her laughter echoing behind her.
Kaelen hesitated, every instinct telling him to stay where he was. But the hunger—the shard's presence—drew him forward. He followed her, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
The village square was bustling with activity. People milled about, their faces familiar yet distant, like reflections in a distorted mirror. And there, in the center of it all, was the shard, glowing faintly atop a pedestal of stone.
Sera stood beside it, her hand resting on its surface.
"Do you want it?" she asked, her voice soft.
Kaelen stepped closer, his throat tight. "This isn't real," he said, more to himself than to her.
Sera's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. "Does it matter?" she asked.
Kaelen hesitated.
"You came here for power," she continued, her tone sharpening. "You'll take it, no matter the cost."
"That's not—"
"Liar!"
Her voice cracked like thunder, and the world around him shifted. The villagers turned, their faces twisting into grotesque shapes, their eyes glowing with the same golden light as the figure from before.
Kaelen reached for his dagger, but it was still gone. The shard pulsed on its pedestal, its glow growing brighter, almost blinding.
"Prove your resolve," the voice boomed again, echoing through the distorted village.
The figures began closing in, their movements slow and deliberate. Kaelen clenched his fists, his heart racing.
If this was the price of power, he'd pay it.