The keep was coming apart.
Not crumbling—no, that would have been merciful.This was unmaking.
Walls still stood, but their outlines wavered as if they were reflections in disturbed water. Floors cracked in spiderwebs of light. Sigils on the ceilings flickered, then reversed, symbols flowing backward into nothingness.
The wards weren't failing anymore.They were being devoured.
Jayden and Aerin tore down a side corridor, boots slipping on frost-slick marble. Above, the sound of battle echoed—screams, steel on steel, the hiss of magic cutting air. The smell of smoke mixed with the sharp cold, a nauseating combination that meant the Shadowborn had reached the upper halls.
Jayden's shoulder throbbed with every step. The cut the shadow had left wasn't healing the way it should; the black-silver fire had seeped too deep. He could feel it watching him from inside, a coiled presence just waiting for him to falter.
Aerin didn't slow. Her axe was still in her grip, the edge rimed with frost from parrying Shadowborn steel. "The east stair'll get us to the Moon Gate," she said between breaths. "If the path's still there."
"What if it's not?" Jayden asked.
"Then we improvise."
Jayden almost laughed—almost—but the sound that came out was too sharp.
They rounded a corner and skidded to a stop.
Three Shadowborn blocked the hall. Armored in jagged plates of blackened bone, their eyes burned with pale fire. Their weapons—long, serrated glaives—dripped with frost that spread where it touched the stone.
Aerin didn't hesitate. "Move."
Jayden's silver flame surged, flickering along his sword. The hum inside it steadied—stronger than before, sharper, as though the weapon had tasted the shadow and wanted more.
The first Shadowborn lunged. Jayden's blade caught the strike, heat meeting cold in a flare that lit the corridor. Aerin's axe swung in a brutal arc, cleaving through the second warrior's arm with a sound like breaking ice.
The third raised its glaive——and was ripped backward by an unseen force.
Jayden's stomach dropped.
The masked figure was there.
They didn't step—they simply were there, as if they had peeled themselves from the shadows clinging to the walls. The mask's runes pulsed faintly, each glow in time with Jayden's racing heart.
"You cannot run from yourself," they said softly.
Aerin shifted her stance. "We're not running. We're surviving."
"Survival is temporary." The masked figure tilted their head toward Jayden. "But power—that can be forever. I offered you the easier path. You still can take it."
Jayden tightened his grip. "And if I say no again?"
The figure's voice lowered. "Then you will crawl back to me when the shadow in your blood takes you anyway."
The walls shook violently. From far above came a shuddering crash, followed by a gust of freezing wind.
Aerin grabbed Jayden's arm. "We don't have time for this."
The masked figure didn't move to stop them—but as Jayden and Aerin pushed past, their voice followed:"Every door you close, little moon-child, I will open from the other side."
The east stair was worse than they'd hoped. Half the steps were missing, replaced by a yawning gap over open air and the faint glow of the keep's lower wards far below. The rest were coated in ice so slick it looked like glass.
Aerin eyed it. "Think you can jump?"
Jayden looked at the gap. "Not without wings."
"Then we climb." She slung her axe over her back, dropped to one knee, and began edging along the outer ledge—nothing but two inches of stone between her boots and a drop that ended in magic fire.
Jayden followed, sword strapped to his back. His shoulder screamed in protest, his boots slipping on frost. Halfway across, the wind picked up—unnatural, whispering in a language that made the hair on his arms stand on end.
The shadow in him stirred.
You could leap this with ease, it murmured.You're only pretending to be weak.
Jayden gritted his teeth and kept moving. "Not listening."
You will. You have to.
The ledge narrowed. His heel slipped——and a cold hand caught his wrist.
Not Aerin's.
He looked down. Far below, in the swirling frost, the masked figure stood as if the air itself were solid beneath them. Their grip on him was impossibly strong, not pulling him down—but holding him in place.
"You don't understand the keep," they said. "It is a prison. It was never built to protect you—it was built to hide you from us. You're breaking whether you climb or not."
Jayden yanked free and stumbled the last few feet to solid ground. His chest felt like it was burning from the inside.
Aerin glanced at him. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Jayden lied.
The Moon Gate was ahead—an archway of pale stone set into the far wall, glowing faintly with residual wardlight. Beyond it was the outer bridge, a narrow span over the ravine.
Except the bridge was already breaking.
Chunks of stone fell into the dark below, each one trailing frost. Shadowborn were swarming across what remained, their movements eerily silent.
Aerin drew her axe. "Guess we make a hole."
Jayden's flame roared to life in his hand. "Guess we do."
And behind them, the keep's last ward shattered.