The dense forest seemed endless as Lucas and Eira pressed on, the air heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth. After their close encounter with the wraithspawn, neither of them spoke much, each lost in their own thoughts. The sun had fully risen now, but its light struggled to pierce the thick canopy above.
Eira led the way, her steps sure despite the uneven ground. Lucas followed closely, his staff ready in case of another attack. The mark on his wrist still pulsed faintly, though it seemed less active now, as if resting after the earlier danger.
"How far are we from the nearest settlement?" Lucas asked, breaking the silence.
Eira didn't slow her pace. "A day, maybe two. But we're not heading there."
Lucas frowned. "Why not? We could use supplies—and maybe some help."
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Because we can't trust anyone right now. The curse has a way of drawing attention, and not all of it is friendly. The fewer people who know about you, the safer we'll be."
Lucas didn't argue. He knew she was right, but the thought of being so isolated in the face of such danger was unnerving.
By midday, they reached a clearing where a small stream meandered through the undergrowth. Eira knelt by the water, filling a canteen, while Lucas sat on a fallen log, grateful for the brief rest.
"You're handling this better than I expected," Eira said, glancing at him.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You mean the running for our lives, fighting shadowhounds, and being hunted by a wraithspawn? Sure, it's been great."
Eira smirked, though her eyes softened. "I've seen people break under less. But you… you're holding up."
Lucas shrugged, unsure how to respond. He didn't feel particularly strong or capable. If anything, he felt like he was stumbling through events far beyond his control.
"What happens if we fail?" he asked quietly.
Eira's smirk faded. She capped her canteen and sat across from him, her tone serious. "If we fail, the curse consumes Eryndor. Magic will become unstable, tearing the realm apart. The rival factions you've heard of? They won't matter. Nothing will."
Lucas swallowed hard. "No pressure, then."
"None at all," Eira said dryly.
The moment of calm didn't last. As they prepared to move on, a strange sound reached their ears—a faint, melodic hum, like a song carried on the wind.
"What is that?" Lucas asked, his voice hushed.
Eira tensed, her hand on her dagger. "Stay close."
The hum grew louder as they approached its source, leading them to an ancient stone archway covered in moss and ivy. Beyond it lay a grove bathed in soft, golden light. In the center of the grove stood a crystal obelisk, its surface etched with glowing runes.
Lucas's breath caught. The obelisk radiated a warmth that felt almost soothing, and the sigil on his wrist began to pulse in rhythm with the glowing runes.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"A Waystone," Eira said, her voice filled with awe. "They're relics from the Age of Binding. Places of power, meant to stabilize magic during the Great Sundering."
Lucas stepped closer, drawn to the obelisk. The runes seemed to call to him, their light growing brighter as he approached.
"Careful," Eira warned.
But Lucas couldn't stop. The moment his hand touched the crystal, a surge of energy shot through him. Images flooded his mind—visions of battles, crumbling cities, and a figure shrouded in darkness. He heard whispers, too faint to understand, but their urgency was clear.
"Lucas!" Eira's voice broke through the haze, and he stumbled back, gasping for air.
"What… what was that?" he managed, his heart racing.
Eira caught his arm, steadying him. "The Waystone must have recognized you. It's tied to the curse—and to you. What did you see?"
Lucas hesitated, the images still vivid in his mind. "A city in ruins… and a shadow. It felt like it was watching me."
Eira's expression darkened. "That's no coincidence. The curse knows we're trying to stop it. It's already moving against us."
Lucas looked back at the obelisk, its glow dimmer now. The warmth it had radiated earlier was gone, replaced by an uneasy stillness.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
Eira straightened, her jaw set. "We keep moving. The Waystone might have given us a glimpse of what's to come, but it's up to us to stop it. Whatever happens, you can't let the curse take hold of you."
Lucas nodded, though doubt gnawed at him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. But as Eira led the way back through the archway, he knew one thing for certain—there was no turning back.