The Vail of Ashenfall

The forest thinned as Eryndor and Kaelith emerged from the clearing, but the weight of the encounter lingered in the cold air. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they followed the narrow trail winding down the mountain.

Kaelith adjusted her pack, glancing sideways at Eryndor. "You're sure about this next relic? Because I'm not eager to meet more of those shadow-cloak creeps."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed faintly. The relic's pull was stronger now, tugging him farther north. "I'm sure. It's close."

Kaelith raised a brow. "Define 'close.' Last time you said that, we hiked another half-day through a blizzard."

Eryndor smirked but didn't answer. The faint glow of the relics in his pack resonated against his cursed flame. Two down. Two more to go.

As they pressed on, the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the landscape. The distant howl of wolves echoed through the valley below.

Kaelith pulled her cloak tighter. "Let's set up camp. I'd rather not freeze to death before we find this thing."

Eryndor nodded. They found shelter beneath a rocky overhang, the cliffside shielding them from the wind. Kaelith gathered wood while Eryndor lit a small fire with the flick of his cursed arm, the blue flame crackling to life without tinder.

Kaelith watched from the other side of the fire. "That's convenient."

Eryndor shrugged. "Perks of carrying a curse."

She leaned back against her pack. "Still… you ever wonder what happens if you lose control of it?"

Eryndor's gaze drifted to his arm. The flames flickered faintly beneath his skin. "Every day."

For a while, they sat in silence, the firelight flickering against the rocks. Kaelith tossed a twig into the flames, breaking the quiet.

"So, what's the deal with these relics anyway? Why are they so important?"

Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "They're not just relics. They're pieces of something larger. When the veil was first cast, these artifacts were created to anchor it—to hold the darkness back."

Kaelith tilted her head. "And now that the veil's breaking?"

"The relics are the only things keeping the shadows from fully crossing over."

Kaelith exhaled. "Great. No pressure."

As the fire began to die down, Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed again—sharper this time. He sat upright, eyes narrowing toward the treeline.

Kaelith noticed immediately. "What is it?"

Eryndor rose slowly, his hand drifting toward his sword. "We're not alone."

The forest was still, but the shadows between the trees seemed to shift unnaturally. A faint whisper carried on the wind—too soft to make out, but persistent.

Kaelith stood, dagger in hand. "I'm really starting to hate this mountain."

Eryndor's cursed arm flared softly, illuminating the darkness. The whispering grew louder, circling them like a distant chant.

Then, from the edge of the firelight, a figure appeared.

It wasn't cloaked in shadows like the others. This figure wore ancient armor, tarnished and broken, with a crown half-cracked upon his brow. His eyes glowed faintly, not red like the warden's, but golden—burning with something older.

Kaelith stepped closer to Eryndor. "Tell me you know who that is."

Eryndor's grip tightened on his sword. "I don't. But I think he knows us."

The figure took another step forward, his voice low and distant.

"The third relic calls to you… but the path is not yours alone to walk."

Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The figure's gaze lingered on Eryndor's cursed arm.

"A king once. A prisoner now."

Kaelith exchanged a glance with Eryndor. "Prisoner? Of what?"

The golden-eyed figure tilted his head, the faint traces of a smile on his cracked lips.

"Of the fire beneath the mountain. The dragon stirs."

Eryndor stepped forward, fire flickering along his blade. "If you know where the relic is, tell us."

The figure's form began to flicker, as if fading into the wind.

"The relic lies beyond the Hollow Spire. Follow the flame… but beware the shadow that walks with you."

Before Eryndor could say more, the figure dissolved into mist, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Kaelith let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Alright. That was officially unsettling."

Eryndor stared at the spot where the figure had stood. The name Hollow Spire echoed in his mind—a place he'd only heard of in old stories.

"We leave at dawn," he said quietly.

Kaelith sheathed her dagger. "Great. Another ruin to explore. Can't wait."

As they settled back by the fire, Eryndor kept watch, the whisper of the king's final words burning in his mind.

Beware the shadow that walks with you.

He glanced at Kaelith, who had already drifted off to sleep by the fire's edge.

What if the shadow wasn't following them… but traveling with them?