The mountain's shadow stretched long across the fractured valley, veiling the land in a hush of dread. Kaen and Lira moved cautiously, their steps faltering with fatigue but sharpened by what waited behind them.
The air was thick—too thick. Every breath reeked of ash and the metallic scent of coming ruin.
"We need shelter," Lira murmured, her eyes flicking toward the churning sky above. "Something's not right."
Kaen didn't answer. His thoughts were entangled—in visions of his mother, in the voice that called to him, and in the ancient force he'd unleashed atop the summit. Each step forward felt like a betrayal. As if some invisible weight—chains, perhaps—pulled him backward.
Then, a roar.
Low, guttural, and too close.
They froze.
From a ridge of jagged stone ahead, a figure drifted into view.
No footsteps.
It floated.
Charred and broken, its skin clung to blackened bone. Its mouth hung open in a silent, eternal scream. Hollow eyes fixed on them without recognition—only hunger.
An Ash Herald.
Lira hissed. "Looks like your fan club's early."
Kaen's fists clenched. The ember inside him flared—weak, flickering—but there. The same power that had once tethered a Behemoth now barely stirred.
Then more came.
Six, maybe seven, shadows emerged from the rocks—each malformed, twitching, eyes devoid of thought.
"We can't fight them all," Lira said grimly.
Kaen didn't look away. "No. But we can slow them down."
He slammed his palm to the ground.
A burst of raw force pulsed outward, cracking the earth and staggering the creatures. Dust lifted. For a breathless instant, the Heralds reeled.
"Run!"
They sprinted, the land trembling beneath them. Behind, the Heralds shrieked and followed—fast. Too fast.
A flash of lightning cleaved the sky.
And there—etched in black stone, part of the mountain itself—stood a fortress. Towering. Ancient. Watching.
Kaen's breath caught. "There!"
They ran harder, lungs burning. Closer now. The gates loomed—monolithic slabs of obsidian carved with symbols Kaen almost recognized. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Lira reached them first, slamming both hands against the surface. "OPEN!"
Nothing.
The Heralds screamed, closing in.
Kaen stumbled forward, drew the cracked pendant from his chest, and pressed it to the gate.
Silence.
Then—a tremor.
Stone groaned.
The gate shuddered.
And began to open.
"Inside!" Kaen yelled.
They slipped through just as a Herald lunged. The gate slammed shut, severing its arm mid-lunge. It writhed on the floor like a dying snake.
Silence swallowed the hall.
Kaen leaned against the cold wall, gasping for breath. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Lira looked around. Her face was pale, her voice hollow. "Where are we?"
Kaen didn't answer at first.
In the vast, silent dark, something else stirred.
Heavy.
Hungry.
Watching.
Finally, he said it.
"Somewhere worse."