Chapter 7:
The temple crumbled behind them, its black spires collapsing into dust as the ground quaked with an unrelenting fury. Ashen, Lira, and Caelum ran through the forest, the relic's faint glow seeping through Ashen's satchel like a heartbeat in the dark.
"Keep moving!" Caelum shouted over the sound of shattering stone and the deafening roars that seemed to echo from the depths of the earth.
They didn't stop until the trembling subsided and the distant wail of the collapsing sanctuary faded into silence. By then, the forest had grown darker, the oppressive canopy closing in around them like a suffocating veil.
Lira doubled over, gasping for breath. "What… was that?"
Caelum leaned against a tree, his face pale. "The temple's wards breaking. We took something integral to its balance. It's likely something far worse is waking up now."
Ashen remained silent, his hand resting on the satchel. The relic's warmth seeped into his palm, a steady reminder of what they had risked so much to retrieve. He could still feel the faint echo of power within him, but it wasn't enough—not yet.
"We can't stay here," he said finally, his voice firm. "If the temple's collapse stirred something, it's only a matter of time before it finds us."
Lira nodded, straightening. "Agreed. But where do we go? Back to Solis? Or is there another place we can regroup?"
Caelum's brow furrowed in thought. "There's a hermit who lives beyond the southern cliffs. They've been studying relics and the remnants of divine power for decades. If anyone can help you unlock the relic's potential, it's them."
Ashen hesitated. The memory of the Keeper's words still lingered in his mind.
*"You are unworthy."*
What if they were right? What if he couldn't reclaim his divinity? What if he failed again, just as he had in the past?
"Ashen?" Lira's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He met her gaze, the determination in her eyes sparking a flicker of his own resolve. "Let's go. We don't have time to waste."
---
The journey to the southern cliffs was grueling. The forest grew thicker and more treacherous, the path winding through jagged rocks and treacherous ravines. The air grew colder with each step, and the silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant roar that reminded them of what they had unleashed.
It wasn't until they reached a narrow clearing that Ashen finally spoke. "The Keeper… they called me Azrael. Why?"
Caelum glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Azrael was your name, wasn't it? Before the fall."
Ashen's jaw tightened. "I don't remember. Not all of it."
Lira slowed her pace, walking beside him. "What do you remember?"
He exhaled, his gaze distant. "Fragments. The sound of a thousand voices calling my name. Light so bright it felt alive. And then… falling. Endless falling."
Lira's eyes softened. "You were a god, Ashen. A protector. The people looked to you for hope, for salvation. But gods aren't infallible. Even they can break."
Ashen clenched his fists. "And when I broke, the world paid the price."
"You didn't do it alone," Caelum interjected. "Malthor was there. He was your equal once, wasn't he? Before he chose to betray everything you both stood for."
The name sent a jolt of anger through Ashen. "Malthor… He's the reason for all of this. The corruption, the suffering. He turned his back on the balance and took everything from me."
"And now you have a chance to make it right," Lira said, her voice steady. "The relic is proof of that."
Ashen touched the satchel again, feeling the faint pulse of the crystal. "If I can wield it. If I'm still worthy."
"You'll have to be," Caelum said, his tone grim. "Because if you're not, there won't be a world left to save."
---
By the time they reached the cliffs, the sun was beginning to set, casting the jagged peaks in hues of red and gold. The hermit's dwelling was a small, unassuming hut built into the side of the rock face, its entrance guarded by an intricate array of glyphs that shimmered faintly in the fading light.
Caelum approached the door and knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet.
After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly figure wrapped in layers of tattered robes. Their eyes were sharp and piercing, glowing faintly with a light that reminded Ashen of the relic itself.
"You brought him," the hermit said, their voice rasping but firm. "The Fallen One."
Ashen stepped forward, meeting their gaze. "You know who I am?"
The hermit nodded, their expression unreadable. "I know what you were. And I know why you've come."
They stepped aside, motioning for the group to enter. Inside, the hut was cluttered with books, scrolls, and fragments of glowing crystals that seemed to hum with latent energy.
The hermit gestured to a low table in the center of the room. "Show me the relic."
Ashen hesitated, then removed the crystal from the satchel, placing it on the table. The room was instantly bathed in its soft, radiant glow, and the hermit's eyes widened with a mixture of awe and apprehension.
"This…" they whispered, reaching out to touch the relic. "This is no ordinary shard. It is a fragment of the First Light, the essence of creation itself."
Ashen frowned. "Can it restore my power?"
The hermit's gaze shifted to him, their expression solemn. "Perhaps. But it will not be easy. The First Light demands balance, and you… you are fractured. To reclaim what you lost, you must confront the darkness within you—the shadows left by your fall."
Ashen's heart sank. "And if I can't?"
The hermit's eyes darkened. "Then the light will consume you, and with it, any hope of saving this world."
The room fell silent, the weight of the hermit's words hanging heavy in the air.
Lira placed a hand on Ashen's shoulder. "You're not alone in this," she said softly.
Caelum nodded. "We'll face whatever comes together."
Ashen looked at the relic, its glow reflecting in his eyes. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and doubt. But for the first time, he felt a spark of hope—a reminder of what he was fighting for.
And he would not stop until the light was his once more.