The morning dawned gray and cold, the marshland shrouded in mist that clung to the skin like icy tendrils. The Watcher's Mark loomed behind them, a silent sentinel watching their departure. Kael adjusted the strap of the Crown's satchel, its hum a subdued pulse in the back of his mind.
"What's the next step?" Mareth asked, her voice breaking the uneasy quiet.
Seryn studied the horizon, her sharp gaze scanning the trees. "We head east. The Council's forces are closing in from the west, but there's a stronghold near the borderlands where we can regroup and plan our next move."
Kael frowned. "A stronghold? Isn't that too obvious?"
"Not this one," Seryn replied. "It's abandoned—or at least, that's what most believe. But it's hidden in the cliffs, and it'll give us the advantage if the Council decides to push further into the marsh."
"Then we move fast," Lira said, adjusting her cloak. "The longer we linger, the more likely they are to catch up."
The march through the marshlands was grueling. The path twisted and turned unpredictably, forcing the group to navigate through treacherous terrain. Pools of stagnant water dotted the landscape, their surfaces rippling with unseen movement. Kael's steps were careful, but his mind churned with the weight of the Watcher's words.
Face the trials and show that you are worthy.
Kael clenched his fists. He had passed the first trial, but the Crown's power felt no closer to being under his control. Every surge of energy reminded him of its potential for destruction—and his fear of wielding it.
"You're quiet," Mareth said, falling into step beside him.
Kael glanced at her, his expression strained. "Just thinking."
"About the trial?" she asked.
Kael nodded. "And what comes next. The Crown… it's like it's alive. It's waiting for me to… prove something. But I don't even know what it wants."
Mareth placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
Kael managed a faint smile. "I hope you're right."
By midday, the group reached the edge of the marsh. The landscape shifted abruptly, the damp, tangled vegetation giving way to rocky outcroppings and sparse grass. The air grew cooler, the scent of salt carried on the wind.
"We're close," Seryn said, her voice low. "The stronghold is built into those cliffs." She pointed to a jagged formation rising in the distance, its peaks shrouded in clouds.
Kael's gaze followed her hand. The cliffs were imposing, their sheer faces marked by ancient cracks and scars. He could see faint traces of a path winding upward, barely distinguishable from the rocky terrain.
"Doesn't look welcoming," Lira muttered.
"It's not meant to be," Seryn replied. "That's what makes it perfect."
The ascent was slow and arduous. Loose stones threatened to give way beneath their feet, and the wind howled through the crevices, carrying a bone-chilling cold. Kael's legs burned with the effort, but he pushed forward, driven by the urgency of their mission.
As they climbed higher, the path narrowed, forcing them to move single file. Kael's focus narrowed to each step, the Crown's hum vibrating in his ears like a distant drumbeat.
"Almost there," Seryn called from ahead. Her voice was steady, but Kael could sense the tension beneath it.
When they finally reached the stronghold's entrance, Kael was struck by its stark simplicity. A heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron bands, was set into the rock face. Faint carvings adorned the stone around it, their patterns worn by time but still faintly visible.
"What is this place?" Kael asked, his voice hushed.
Seryn stepped forward, her hand brushing the carvings. "A relic of the old world. It was a fortress once, but it's been forgotten by most. The Council doesn't even know it exists."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure it's safe?"
"As safe as anywhere can be," Seryn replied. "Let's get inside."
The interior of the stronghold was dark and cool, the air thick with the scent of stone and dust. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing faintly in the cavernous space. Seryn lit a torch, its flickering light revealing a vast chamber with walls lined with rusted weapons and tattered banners.
"It's not much," Seryn said, "but it'll do."
Kael set the satchel down, the Crown's hum receding slightly as he released it. He took a deep breath, the tension in his chest easing for the first time in hours.
"We'll need to set watches," Mareth said, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "If the Council's tracking us, they won't be far behind."
Lira nodded. "I'll take the first watch."
Kael leaned against the wall, his exhaustion catching up to him. "Wake me when it's my turn."
As the group settled into the stronghold, Kael's thoughts returned to the Watcher's words. The Crown's trials were far from over, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. But for now, they had a moment of respite.
Kael closed his eyes, the faint hum of the Crown lulling him into an uneasy sleep. The march to ruin had begun, but he was determined to see it through—whatever the cost.