Chapter 24: Embers of the Fallen
The Bastion lay in ruins. Its towering spires had crumbled, its proud banners now tattered remnants fluttering in the smoky wind. Fires burned across the shattered stronghold, their orange and violet hues casting eerie shadows. The Shard was gone—or so it seemed. But its influence lingered, an unseen specter haunting the survivors.
The Aftermath
General Rhyssa Kord stumbled through the debris, her breath ragged. Blood streaked her face, and her once-pristine armor was dented and scorched. Around her, the remnants of the Iron Order gathered, their numbers pitifully small compared to the army they had been.
"Report," she commanded, though her voice lacked its usual strength.
Captain Jorath approached, his expression grim. "We've accounted for fewer than a third of our forces. Most of the survivors are injured. The rest…" He hesitated, unwilling to speak the truth.
"They're gone," Kord finished for him, her tone flat.
Jorath nodded. "Whatever that explosion was, it wiped out almost everything. But…"
Kord's sharp gaze fixed on him. "But what?"
"The corruption," Jorath said, lowering his voice. "It hasn't disappeared. Some of the survivors… they're still hearing the whispers."
The Tainted Survivors
In the makeshift infirmary, the taint of the Shard was evident. Soldiers sat in silence, their eyes glazed over, their bodies trembling. Others muttered to themselves, their words unintelligible but filled with dread.
One soldier, a young recruit named Ilryn, clutched his head as if trying to block out a voice only he could hear. "They're still here," he whispered. "Watching. Waiting."
Nearby, a medic turned to Jorath. "We're losing them, sir. Their minds are… breaking. And it's spreading. Some of the untainted are starting to show symptoms just by being near them."
Jorath grimaced. "Isolate anyone showing signs of corruption. We can't take any chances."
The medic hesitated. "And if they get worse?"
Jorath's expression hardened. "Do what must be done."
A Fragment's Echo
Deep within the rubble, something stirred. A faint, pulsing light glowed beneath layers of stone and twisted metal. It was small—a fragment of the Shard, no larger than a coin—but its presence was undeniable.
One of Malvek's followers, still alive despite his injuries, crawled toward the light. His eyes widened as he reached out to touch it, his fingers trembling.
As soon as his skin made contact, the fragment flared to life. The man let out a scream that echoed through the ruins, his body convulsing as the Shard's energy consumed him.
When the light faded, he rose to his feet, his eyes burning with violet fire. He was no longer himself.
A New Threat
Word of the corrupted soldier spread quickly through the camp. General Kord and Captain Jorath arrived to find the man standing amidst the rubble, surrounded by the bodies of those who had tried to stop him.
"Stay back!" Jorath ordered, raising his weapon.
The man turned to face them, his expression calm but alien. "You cannot fight what is already within you," he said, his voice layered with an unnatural resonance.
"What are you?" Kord demanded, her hand on her sword.
"I am the beginning," the man replied. "A vessel for what is to come. You destroyed the Shard, but its essence cannot be undone. It lives within us now. Within me."
Before Kord could react, the man raised his hand, and a wave of violet energy erupted from his palm, forcing the survivors to scatter.
A Desperate Plan
That night, as the survivors regrouped, Kord and Jorath met in the war tent. The tension between them was palpable.
"We can't fight that thing," Jorath said, his voice low. "Not without losing everyone we have left."
"Running isn't an option," Kord replied. "If we don't stop him now, he'll spread the corruption to the rest of the world."
Jorath hesitated. "Then what's your plan, General?"
Kord leaned over the map of the Bastion, her finger tracing a path to the ruins of the Shard chamber. "If even a fragment of the Shard remains, it's still tied to him. We need to destroy it completely. And we need to do it before he gains full control of its power."
"And if we fail?" Jorath asked.
Kord's gaze was steely. "Then the Iron Order dies with honor."
The Final Stand
The survivors prepared for what could be their last battle. The corrupted soldier, now fully consumed by the Shard's power, stood at the heart of the ruins, his presence drawing more tainted followers to his side.
Kord led the charge, her blade gleaming in the firelight. Jorath and the remaining soldiers followed, their fear outweighed by their determination.
The battle was brutal. The corrupted were relentless, their strength and speed enhanced by the Shard's influence. For every one that fell, two more seemed to rise in their place.
Kord fought her way to the chamber, her every step a struggle against the violet energy that radiated from the fragment. When she reached it, she raised her sword, prepared to strike—
But the corrupted leader appeared before her, his voice echoing with the power of the Shard. "You cannot destroy me, General. I am eternal."
Kord gritted her teeth. "Nothing is eternal."
With a cry, she plunged her sword into the fragment, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
The Cost of Victory
The explosion that followed shook the ruins, a blinding light consuming everything in its path. When it faded, the corrupted were gone, their bodies reduced to ash.
Kord lay amidst the rubble, her body battered but alive. Around her, the remaining survivors began to stir, their faces filled with a mixture of relief and sorrow.
Jorath approached, his expression grim. "We did it," he said. "But at what cost?"
Kord looked at the horizon, where the first light of dawn was breaking. "The