Kael shuffled upward as the faint light of dawn seeped through the ash-grey sky, a pale and lifeless mockery of the sun.
The air was still cold, enough to bite against his skin and seep through the gaps in his cloak. He wasn't surprised to find the fire had burned out and that he was alone.
He hadn't truly slept, only closed his eyes while keeping his senses sharp. He had been well aware when Roran and Lira made their decision. Their whispers had reached him through the stillness of the night: Not worth it.
They'd left quietly, sparing their own lives by choosing not to gamble with his.
Kael stood, brushing the frost from his cloak, and exhaled a plume of vapor into the frozen air.
"Cowards," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying no venom, only cold indifference.
He didn't fault them for their decision—fear was a powerful deterrent.
Dawn painted the settlement in muted hues, but it brought no warmth, no relief from the oppressive atmosphere of the First Reach. Determined to be done with this wretched place, Kael set off toward the agreed-upon meeting spot.
---
The men from the night before were already waiting when Kael arrived. They clustered in a tight group, muttering to each other in low voices. When they saw him approach, their conversation died, and their eyes lingered on him with the same vague wariness they'd shown before.
"Right on time," one of them, the wiry man with a scar across his cheek, said. His tone was neutral, but his eyes held a flicker of something—perhaps irritation, perhaps unease.
Kael ignored him and nodded toward the group.
"Let's go," was all Kael said.
They moved through the settlement in silence, weaving past crumbling buildings and groups of scavengers who eyed them with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.
The Suicide Pilgrim was ahead, its structure contrasting the ramshackle settlement surrounding it. The shrine stood tall and foreboding, its surface carved with runes that seemed to pulse with slight sentience.
Waiting at the base of the Pilgrim was a young man. He was clean compared to most in the Reach, his armor polished and well-maintained, his cloak free of rips or stains. He carried himself with confidence that bordered on arrogance, and when he turned to face them, his sharp features and piercing gaze commanded attention.
"Welcome," the young man said, his voice carrying easily over the howling wind. "I see you've all decided to join me. Wise choice."
Kael stayed at the back of the group, watching the self-assured leader as he spoke.
"My name is Elric," the young man continued.
"I know some of you are new to the Nexus, so let me make one thing clear: this is not your world. The rules here are different. And if you follow me, I'll ensure we all make it out of this trial alive." He smirked, his confidence almost infectious. "My world was called to the Nexus over 700 years ago. We've spent generations learning its secrets. I know what I'm doing."
The group murmured among themselves, a few nodding in approval. Elric's poise and preparation were a sharp disparity to the desperation that clung to the rest of them.
Kael, however, remained silent, his eyes observing the others. Including himself, there were ten in total: Elric, the four men Kael had met in the tavern, and five others—a ragtag mix of scavengers, fighters, and survivors.
Elric's expression grew somber as he raised a hand to silence the group. "As I told you all before, the Pilgrim demands a sacrifice. The trial cannot begin without it." His voice darkened, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"Who have you brought?"
The air grew tense. One of the men Kael had come with—a burly, bearded man with a cruel smile—stepped forward and shoved Kael toward Elric.
"We found this one at the din," the man said, his voice rough with excitement. "Let's kill him and get this over with."
Kael stumbled slightly but straightened quickly, his expression blank. His gaze shifted to Elric, then back to the group of men who had accompanied him.
"You're all so predictable," Kael said quietly, his voice carrying just enough venom to make the hairs on the back of their necks stand. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"It's a bit irritating."
Before anyone could react, Kael raised his hand. Dark sparks crackled in the air, coalescing into the unmistakable shape of Ather'valis. The sword materialized in his grip, its blade gleaming with dark otherworldly light.
The men took a step back, their bravado faltering. Elric raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious.
Kael turned his gaze to the group of men who had betrayed him, his expression cold and unforgivable. "Normally, I'd kill the lot of you for this," he said, his voice as sharp as the blade in his hand. "But we only need one sacrifice."
He stepped forward, the weight of his presence causing the men to flinch. "So choose quickly," Kael continued, his tone calm but laced with menace.
"Who among you… will die?"