Recap:
After surviving the Soul Wraith ambush beneath the ruins of Vael'Norr, Kael Ardyn began to confront the truth behind the whispers in his mind and the growing darkness within. Lyria, the enigmatic warrior from the Eastern Reaches, revealed a fragment of her past, and together they pushed deeper into the corrupted forest of Mournhollow. In the shadows, the Crimson Court moves, their agents stirring unrest across the border. Kael now faces not only the awakening power inside him, but also the uncertain bond with Lyria—who may hold secrets of her own.
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The sky above Mournhollow was a storm of ash-colored clouds, thunder rumbling in the distance like the growl of something ancient waking. Kael stood at the edge of a jagged cliff, the dead trees behind him groaning in the wind like tortured memories. Below lay a chasm, a place the locals once called The Maw—an abyss that whispered.
He had been silent for hours.
Behind him, Lyria approached with careful steps, her boots barely making a sound. Her armor was scraped, a streak of dried blood along her collarbone, but she moved like a dancer—controlled, precise.
"You've been quiet since we left the ruins," she said.
Kael didn't turn. "Because something's changing in me. Something I'm not sure I want to name."
Lyria stood beside him now. The wind caught her long, moon-pale hair, and for a moment she looked almost spectral. "You're afraid of becoming a monster," she said softly.
He clenched his fists. "I already am."
"No," she said. "You're still fighting. That's what matters."
A long silence fell between them.
Kael finally turned, studying her expression. Her eyes didn't flinch, but there was something behind them—something deeper than the warrior's mask she wore. He saw the tremble at the edge of her calm. "You talk like you've walked this road before."
She looked away. "I have."
Kael stepped closer, his voice low. "Who were you before all this, Lyria?"
She hesitated, then exhaled. "A consort to a noble of the Empire. A prisoner behind silk and gold. I ran the night he tried to sell my soul to the Crimson Court. I've never stopped running since."
The wind howled around them, carrying dust and memory.
Kael's voice was barely audible. "Why help me?"
She looked at him now, truly looked. "Because I see the same shadows in your eyes that I once saw in my own. But yours haven't consumed you… not yet."
And for the first time, Kael saw past her armor and precision—into the broken girl she used to be, the fire she forged from her pain.
He reached out, his hand brushing her fingers. "Then stay. Help me hold it back."
She didn't pull away.
"I'll stay," she whispered. "But not because you need saving. Because maybe… we can save each other."
A moment passed.
But peace was fleeting.
Suddenly, the shadows in the chasm below writhed. A deep pulse shook the ground beneath them, and from the depths of The Maw, a black tendril of mist slithered upward—followed by a chorus of whispers in a dead tongue.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Something's awakening."
Lyria pulled her blade. "Then we face it. Together."
Behind them, the glyph on Kael's hand pulsed red. The mark of the Shadowblood had flared again—stronger, hungrier.
But this time, Kael did not recoil.
He stepped forward, toward the edge of the abyss.
Into the storm.
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To be continued...