The Frostwood draped over Kael as he moved deeper into the ice wasteland, his breath creating mists in the low temperatures. His encounters with the elderly woman lingered in the recesses of his thoughts, her speech eroding his brain. The Keystone of the Veil will soon be ours.
He couldn't waste any time thinking what the Order had been kind of planning—answers. &but only where a person—whose possessions they might have had—was Orlan, the notorious scholar discussed by Lira last time.
[Alert: Host energy levels remain below optimal threshold. Suggested treatment: Break, restock, and avoid that contact before returning to contact with the threat.]
Kael exhaled sharply. "Noted, but I'll rest when I know what I'm up against."
And after that, the system said nothing more, as if it had exhausted all efforts to convince him. Boots crashed against frost-laced ground as he continued on his way until a familiar structure rose over the horizon-a crumbling watchtower hidden deep within the Frostwood.
Vines coiled like tentacles around its masonry, and faded, uncoloured battlements hung by the fingernails to the broken wall of the tower. Although almost indiscernible, the wall candlelight penetrated the holes producing the impression that there is someone in the place.
Kael approached cautiously, knocking twice.
For a long moment, silence.
And poof, a ringing in the ears, and a sudden sharp metallic click and a small panel in the door swung open to reveal a bloodshot eye.
"Who sent you?" a hoarse voice rasped.
Kael held his ground. "No one. I'm here, looking for the answers off the top of my head now to Keystone of the Veil. If you're Orlan, you're the only one who can give them to me. ".
Another pause. Then the door creaked open just enough to almost pull Kael through. The space was submerged in the stacks of books and scrap of manuscripts, all coated in the dust of ink, and all fragrant with the old, ink-stains and herb-dryness, The air was impregnated with its damp flavour. Candlelight, dim, seemed to waltz on the walls, and its light spilled upon an ungrounded worktable crammed full of maps and runes and charts over which Kael knew nothing.
Orlan, a skeletal fellow with streaked gray hair and bent posture, and hands stained ink, hurried to slam the door shut behind him. "You must be truly desperate to come here. That, or incredibly foolish."
Kael crossed his arms. "I've been called worse."
Orlan snorted, advancing towards a table of wood piled with thin papers that required a great dignity not to amass to the floor. If you want the Keystone, you are already further in this mess than you think. The Order is relentless. You should turn back while you still can."
"That's not an option," Kael said firmly. "I fought one of their rift manipulators. She mentioned the Keystone before she escaped. Whatever they're planning, I have to stop it."
Orlan stopped, fingernails pressing against the edge of the table. He sighed heavily and motioned Kael to sit down. "Then listen carefully. As an intervention for compulsive behaviour, if you want to stop them, you have to understand what you really are facing.
On the ship, Kael reclined and observed, as Orlan spread out a tarnished world map on a table. There]s were the edges ripped off and also in some cases, the dots were removed with black dashes, in other cases as a substitute fields were ungradiated with the redsescribed lines.
"The Keystone isn't just an artifact," Orlan began. "It's a celestial fragment—something not of this world. The Order believes it is able to patch up rifts, to bend them to some predetermined wish, states .
Kael frowned. "And you don't?"
Orlan scoffed. "I know they can't. They act like they're making god and first of all, somebody tried…" He waved at a particular area on the map—an epic black hole on the map. "The land itself ceased to exist. Erased from history."
Kael's stomach tightened. "Then why go after it?"
"Because power makes fools of men," Orlan muttered. "And the Order isn't known for restraint."
Kael exhaled a slow breath of air, as fingers swept over the areas of the map devoid of anything. "Where is it?"
Orlan hesitated. "Buried in the Valley of Echoes. It is an archaeological site—one of the few site unaffected by the Order. But if the Keystone is still– yes, really– true, then it will be true. But if the Order knows this, you won't be the only one searching. ".
Kael's jaw clenched. "Then I need to move fast."
Orlan's stare burned into him, a palpable, uncharacteristically communicative emptiness in his weary gaze. "If you survive the Valley, come back here. There's more I need to tell you—but only if you live long enough to hear it. ".
A sudden loud howl broke the night, bringing the two men to a halt.
Kael instinctively reached for his blade.
Orlan paled. "You need to go. Now. The Order is also capable of monitoring, e.g., the number of questions that may be asked. And you just did."
Kael gave a firm nod. He had what he needed.
The Keystone of the Veil hunt had started.