Chapter 27: Shadows of the Past
The winds howled through the northern wastelands as Ilryn and his team pressed forward. The skies above were gray and lifeless, a mirror of the desolation that surrounded them. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the barren terrain for any sign of the fragment they sought—or the dangers it might bring.
A Village Marked by Darkness
The first sign of trouble was the eerie silence. They entered the remains of a village, its wooden structures blackened and twisted as if scorched by unnatural fire. The air carried a faint metallic tang, and the earth beneath their feet felt brittle, like it could shatter at any moment.
"This place…" one of the scouts muttered, his voice trembling. "It feels wrong."
Ilryn knelt by a pile of rubble, his fingers brushing against strange symbols etched into a stone slab. The markings seemed to pulse faintly, glowing with a faint violet light.
"It's here," Ilryn whispered, his heart pounding. "A fragment of the Shard. It's close."
The others exchanged uneasy glances but tightened their grips on their weapons.
The Violet Revenant
As the team moved deeper into the village, they found more signs of corruption—wells that had turned to pools of black ichor, trees that oozed sap like blood, and shadowy figures flickering at the edges of their vision.
Then they saw it.
At the center of the village stood a figure cloaked in shadow, its form wreathed in violet flames. Its eyes burned with an unnatural light, and its presence exuded raw power.
"You should not have come here," the figure said, its voice a low growl that seemed to reverberate in their bones.
"Who are you?" Ilryn demanded, stepping forward despite the fear gripping him.
"I am the guardian of the fragment," the figure replied. "Its power belongs to us now. Leave, or be consumed."
Ilryn's grip tightened on his sword. "We've seen what the Shard can do. We won't let it fall into the wrong hands."
The figure laughed, a sound both mocking and inhuman. "You think you can stop what has already begun? The Shard's will is inevitable. You are but a flicker in the storm."
A Desperate Battle
Without warning, the figure unleashed a wave of violet energy, scattering the team. Ilryn barely had time to shield himself before the ground beneath him cracked and splintered.
"Hold your ground!" he shouted, rallying the others.
The battle that followed was chaotic and brutal. The figure moved like a shadow, striking from the darkness with precision. Each blow it landed sent shockwaves through the air, and each attack from the team seemed to do little more than slow it down.
But Ilryn refused to give up. He remembered the horrors the Shard had wrought at the Bastion, the lives it had claimed. He wouldn't let it happen again.
"Focus on the fragment!" he yelled, spotting a faint glow emanating from a cracked pedestal near the center of the village.
While his team engaged the guardian, Ilryn broke into a sprint, dodging debris and blasts of energy. When he reached the pedestal, he saw it—a shard no larger than a coin, pulsing with the same malevolent light as the original artifact.
The Power Within
As Ilryn reached for the fragment, a voice whispered in his mind.
You seek to destroy me, but you do not understand. I am a part of you now. A part of all of you.
Ilryn hesitated, his hand hovering over the fragment. The voice grew louder, more insistent.
Take me. With my power, you can protect them. You can rebuild what was lost. You can be more.
For a moment, Ilryn wavered. The power was tempting, its allure undeniable. But then he remembered the faces of his fallen comrades, the horrors they had endured because of the Shard.
"No," he said through gritted teeth. "I won't be your puppet."
With a shout, he brought his sword down on the fragment, shattering it into countless pieces.
The Guardian's Fall
The moment the fragment was destroyed, the guardian let out an unearthly scream. Its form wavered and flickered, the violet flames consuming it from within.
"This… is not… the end," it hissed before vanishing into the shadows.
As the light faded, the village grew silent once more. Ilryn fell to his knees, his strength drained but his resolve unbroken.
A Glimmer of Hope
When the team regrouped, they found Ilryn staring at the remains of the fragment, now nothing more than dull shards of glass.
"You did it," one of the scouts said, his voice filled with relief.
Ilryn shook his head. "This was just one piece. There are more out there. And they're not going to stop until they've consumed everything."
He rose to his feet, determination burning in his eyes. "We need to find the others before it's too late. The Iron Order isn't just about fighting—it's about protecting. And we're not done yet."
A Message to the Bastion
When Ilryn and his team returned to the remnants of the Bastion, they carried not just news of their victory, but a warning.
"There are more fragments," Ilryn told Kord and Jorath during a debriefing. "And there are others out there looking for them. We can't let them succeed."
Kord nodded, her expression grim. "Then we'll need to act quickly. The Order may be fractured, but we're not powerless. We'll find the fragments—and we'll ensure no one uses them again."
As the survivors began preparations for their next mission, a sense of purpose returned to the camp. The fight was far from over, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was hope.
For the Iron Order, the shadows of the past would not define their future. They would rise again, stronger and united, ready to face whatever came next.