Chereads / the shattered throne of eternity / Chapter 2 - The Price of Power

Chapter 2 - The Price of Power

Kael's breath came in ragged gasps as he slumped against the damp, moss-covered wall of the alley. The shard in his hand pulsed faintly, its eerie glow casting long shadows on the grimy stones around him. His arm throbbed where Lord Eryk's dagger had grazed him, but the pain was distant, drowned out by the strange energy coursing through his veins. His heart raced, not just from the chase, but from the realization that something extraordinary had happened.

*Time slowed down.* He had felt it, seen it. The guards had moved like they were wading through water, their swords swinging in slow motion. And he—he had moved faster than he ever thought possible. It was as if the shard had granted him a fraction of its power, bending reality itself to his will.

But at what cost?

Kael stared at the shard, his reflection distorted in its smooth, black surface. His hollow eyes stared back at him, wide with fear and wonder. He had heard whispers of artifacts like this, relics of the old gods, fragments of their divine power. But those were just stories, tales told by drunkards and madmen around flickering campfires. This… this was real.

A sudden noise snapped him out of his thoughts. Footsteps echoed in the distance, accompanied by the clinking of armor. The guards were searching for him. Kael cursed under his breath and shoved the shard into the folds of his tattered cloak. He couldn't stay here. If they found him, he was dead.

He pushed himself off the wall and crept deeper into the alley, his movements silent and deliberate. The city of Veylor was a maze, and Kael knew its twists and turns better than anyone. He slipped through narrow passageways and over crumbling walls, putting as much distance between himself and the mansion as possible.

As he moved, his mind raced. What was he supposed to do now? He had the shard, but it was more than he had bargained for. It wasn't just a valuable trinket—it was dangerous. And if Lord Eryk was willing to kill to keep it, others would be too. Kael needed to figure out what he was dealing with, and fast.

He made his way to the only place he could think of: the Broken Crown, a dingy tavern tucked away in the slums. It was a place where the city's outcasts gathered, a haven for thieves, mercenaries, and those who had nowhere else to go. Kael had spent many nights there, trading stories and information for scraps of food and a place to sleep. If anyone knew about the shard, it would be the patrons of the Broken Crown.

The tavern was as grim as ever, its sign hanging crookedly above the door. The windows were grimy, and the smell of stale ale and sweat wafted out into the street. Kael pushed open the door and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. The usual crowd was there: a group of rough-looking men playing dice in the corner, a woman with a scar across her face nursing a tankard of ale, and a hunched figure in a dark cloak sitting alone by the fire.

Kael made his way to the bar, where the tavern's owner, a burly man named Garrick, was wiping down the counter with a dirty rag. Garrick looked up as Kael approached, his bushy eyebrows furrowing in recognition.

"Kael," he grunted. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it too," Kael muttered, sliding onto a stool. "Got any food?"

Garrick eyed him suspiciously but reached under the counter and pulled out a hunk of stale bread and a wedge of cheese. Kael grabbed it eagerly, tearing into the bread with his teeth. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now.

"You're lucky I like you," Garrick said, leaning on the counter. "Now, what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Kael hesitated, glancing around the room. The last thing he needed was for word to get out about the shard. But he needed information, and Garrick was one of the few people he trusted—as much as he trusted anyone, anyway.

"I need to know about something," Kael said, lowering his voice. "An artifact. Black crystal, about this big." He held up his hands to indicate the size. "Glows like it's alive."

Garrick's expression darkened. "Where'd you hear about that?"

Kael shook his head. "Doesn't matter. What do you know?"

Garrick leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That's no ordinary artifact, boy. That's seems like the rumored shard of the Eternal Throne.

From the tales They say the gods left them behind when they abandoned the world. Each one holds a piece of their power or so the legends say but they're cursed. Anyone who gains it power one is marked by it,but it just mere fairytales a few have been rumored to be found but none gained the so called great power of the goods though i don't know it that a good or a bad thing but one thing i know kid is .... You don't want anything to do with that."

Kael's stomach churned. Cursed. Of course it was cursed. Why couldn't anything in his life be simple?

"What kind of power?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Garrick shrugged. "Depends on the shard. Some say they grant strength, others say they can bend time or control the elements. But the tales say more you use it, the more it changes you. Eats away at your soul, turns you into something… not human."

Kael's hand instinctively went to the shard hidden in his cloak. He could still feel its warmth, its pull. It was like a living thing, whispering to him, urging him to use it again.

"Why would anyone want something like that?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Garrick gave him a knowing look. "Power, boy. People will do anything for power. But mark my words, having such an item will only quicken your death many search for such things ,if you're not careful it might result in your death ."

Kael didn't respond. He finished his food in silence, his mind racing. Garrick's words echoed in his head, but so did the memory of the shard's power. He had felt it, tasted it. It was intoxicating. And terrifying.

As he sat there, a plan began to form in his mind. He couldn't stay in Veylor. Lord Eryk would be hunting him, and the shard was too dangerous to keep hidden. He needed to leave the city, find a place where he could figure out what to do next. But first, he needed supplies.

He stood up, tossing a few coins on the counter. "Thanks for the food, Garrick."

Garrick nodded, his expression grim. "Be careful, Kael. That shard… it's not worth your soul."

Kael didn't reply. He turned and walked out of the tavern, the shard burning a hole in his cloak. The night air was cold, but he barely felt it. His mind was focused on one thing: survival.

He made his way to the edge of the slums, where a small, ramshackle hut stood nestled between two crumbling buildings. This was his home, such as it was. Inside, he gathered what little he owned—a spare cloak, a waterskin, a few coins—and stuffed them into a worn satchel. He hesitated for a moment, then took the shard out of his cloak and wrapped it in a piece of cloth before placing it in the satchel.

As he slung the bag over his shoulder, he felt a strange sense of finality. He was leaving Veylor, the only home he had ever known. But he had no choice. The shard had changed everything.

He stepped out into the night, the city's lights flickering in the distance. Somewhere out there, Lord Eryk's men were searching for him. But Kael was no longer the same boy who had crept into the mansion earlier that night. He was something else now. Something more.

And he was just beginning to understand what that meant.

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**To Be Continued...**

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