# Chapter 654: The First Shard's Echo
The fall was a chaotic nightmare of scalding air and rushing darkness. Nyra slammed into a sloped chute of rock, the impact jarring every bone in her body. She tumbled, scraping and bouncing, until she finally splashed into a pool of scalding water. The pain was immediate and blinding, a thousand needles piercing her skin. She gasped, sucking in a lungful of sulfurous steam that burned her throat. ruku bez landed beside her a moment later with a tremendous splash, his massive frame absorbing the impact with a grunt. He hauled her to his feet, his grip like iron. They were in a cavern, lit by the eerie red glow of magma veins snaking through the rock. The air was thick enough to chew, and the heat was a physical weight. Nyra fumbled for the data-chip, her fingers trembling. "Activate," she rasped. A holographic screen shimmered into existence above her palm, a map of the local tunnels. And on it, three blips of light. One was miles away, high above. One was a distant speck on the ash plains. The third was right here. Less than a hundred meters away. It pulsed with a deep, angry red light, and a low, guttural growl echoed from the tunnel leading toward it. The AI's final words replayed in her mind. *It is his Rage.*
The growl vibrated through the rock, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury that seemed to press in on Nyra from all sides. The air grew thicker, the scent of sulfur sharpening with a new, coppery tang, like blood on hot metal. ruku bez shifted his weight, planting his feet wide, a low rumble building in his own chest in answer. He was a bastion of calm in the face of the primal noise, his presence a silent promise that she would not face this alone.
Nyra's mind raced, the tactical part of her brain warring with the exhaustion that threatened to pull her under. The data-chip's map was a godsend, but the glowing red dot it displayed felt less like a destination and more like a warning. "His Rage," she whispered, the words tasting like ash. What did that even mean? A memory? An echo? Or something more tangible, more dangerous? The growl came again, closer this time, accompanied by the scraping sound of claws on stone.
She pushed off from the pool's edge, her soaked leathers clinging to her skin, every movement an agony. "We have to get closer," she said, her voice strained. ruku bez nodded once, his eyes fixed on the dark tunnel mouth. He moved ahead of her, his massive body a shield, his bare feet making no sound on the slick, heated rock. The tunnel narrowed, the walls closing in, the red glow of the magma veins casting monstrous, dancing shadows. The heat intensified, a dry, suffocating blanket that made Nyra's head swim. She could feel the thrum of the shard's energy now, a discordant hum that set her teeth on edge and made the shard of Will in her pouch feel cold and inert in comparison.
They rounded a bend and the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. And there, in the center, was the source of the growl. It was a creature of nightmare, a thing of jagged obsidian plates and raw, bubbling magma that flowed like blood through cracks in its hide. It was vaguely lupine in shape, but its head was a mess of fractured rock and glowing crystals, and its eyes were two points of pure, malevolent red light. It was pacing restlessly around a fissure in the far wall, from which an even more intense crimson light pulsed in time with the creature's guttural snarls. The shard. The creature was guarding it, drawn to its power, twisted by it.
As Nyra watched, the creature slammed a paw against the rock wall, the impact sending a shower of sparks and a tremor through the floor. It wasn't just a guard; it was a prisoner, tormented by the very thing it was drawn to. This was Soren's Rage, given form and fury. A Pyrrhic victory made flesh. The thought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cavern's heat. How could they possibly retrieve the shard without destroying the creature—or being destroyed by it?
ruku bez didn't wait for a plan. He took a step forward, planting himself between Nyra and the beast, and slammed his fists together. The sound was like a mountain cracking, a percussive blast of raw kinetic force that rolled through the chamber. The magma-wolf flinched, its head snapping up, its red eyes locking onto them. A deafening roar erupted from its chest, a wave of sound and heat that washed over them, scorching the air. It lowered its head, magma dripping from its jaws, and charged.
The world dissolved into a blur of motion and violence. ruku bez met the charge head-on, his body a bulwark of unyielding flesh and bone. The wolf slammed into him, and the impact was a thunderclap that shook the very foundations of the cavern. ruku bez grunted, his feet skidding back a foot on the stone, but he held his ground, his arms wrapped around the creature's neck, muscles cording with impossible strain. The wolf thrashed, its obsidian plates scraping against ruku bez's skin, drawing lines of smoking blood. It was a battle of titans, raw, untamed power against indomitable will.
Nyra knew she couldn't let ruku bez fight it alone. Her mind, still sharp despite her body's protests, scanned the chamber. The shard pulsed in the fissure, a beacon of furious energy. The creature was tied to it. Maybe she could use that. Her hand went to the pouch at her belt, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the Memory shard. An idea, desperate and insane, began to form. She couldn't fight this thing with a sword, but maybe she could fight it with a memory.
She pulled the Memory shard from its pouch. It was cool to the touch, a faint, silvery light emanating from its core. She focused on it, pouring her own will, her own desperate need, into it. She didn't try to access Soren's memories; she tried to project her own. *Soren!* she screamed in her mind, pouring every ounce of her focus into the shard. *It's Nyra! We're here to save you! Fight this!*
A wave of silvery light pulsed from the shard, washing over the chamber. For a split second, the magma-wolf froze. Its furious red eyes flickered, the rage in them replaced by a flicker of confusion, of recognition. It let out a whine, a sound of pain and loss that was far more terrifying than its roars. The distraction was all ruku bez needed. With a roar of his own, he heaved, twisting his body and using the creature's momentum against it. He threw the wolf sideways, sending it crashing into a wall of rock. Obsidian plates shattered, and the creature yelped, a high-pitched sound of agony.
But the reprieve was fleeting. The shard in the wall pulsed again, a fresh wave of crimson energy flooding the chamber. The wolf's eyes burned brighter with renewed fury, the confusion gone, replaced by an even deeper, more mindless rage. It scrambled to its feet, its body knitting itself together with flowing magma, and fixed its gaze on Nyra. It had identified her as the source of the interference.
It lunged, not at ruku bez, but past him, directly at her. Time seemed to slow. Nyra saw the gaping maw, the rows of crystalline teeth, the superheated air distorting around it. She was too weak, too slow. She braced for the impact, the Memory shard still clutched in her hand.
Then ruku bez was there. He moved with a speed that defied his size, interposing his body between her and the beast. The wolf's jaws clamped down on his shoulder. There was no sound of tearing flesh, only the sickening sizzle of superheated rock meeting skin. ruku bez didn't even flinch. He wrapped his arms around the creature's head, his muscles straining, veins standing out on his neck like thick cords. With a final, guttural cry, he pulled.
The sound was wet and final. The wolf's head came away from its body in a shower of magma and fractured crystal. The body convulsed, thrashing wildly for a moment before collapsing into a heap of cooling rock and sizzling slag. The head in ruku bez's hands glowed for a second, the red light in its eyes fading to a dull ember, before it too crumbled into dust.
Silence descended, broken only by Nyra's ragged gasps and the drip, drip, drip of ruku bez's smoking blood onto the stone floor. He stood over the corpse of the beast, his chest heaving, a massive, searing wound on his shoulder where the wolf's jaws had been. He turned to her, his face etched with pain, but his eyes were clear, his concern entirely for her.
Nyra pushed herself to her feet, her body screaming in protest. She stumbled forward, her gaze fixed on the fissure in the wall. The crimson light of the shard still pulsed, but it was weaker now, its rhythm erratic. The creature was gone, but the Rage remained. She reached the fissure and peered inside. Embedded deep in the living rock was a crystal, no bigger than her fist, that looked as if it had been carved from a solidified scream. It was a jagged, turbulent thing, its inner light a chaotic storm of red and black. It thrummed with a palpable aura of anger and pain, a psychic pressure that made her want to scream or weep or break something. This was it. The first piece of the man she loved, distilled into its most destructive, agonizing form.
She reached out a trembling hand, hesitating. To touch it would be to invite that madness into herself. But to leave it was to abandon Soren to his torment. She thought of his stoic face, the quiet strength he wore like armor, and the pain she knew he kept locked away. This was the source of it. This was the wound he would never show anyone. Her resolve hardened. She would not leave him to suffer alone.
Her fingers brushed against the crystal's surface. A jolt of pure, unfiltered fury shot up her arm, a tidal wave of Soren's pain, his frustration, his self-loathing. She saw flashes of his life: the caravan burning, his father's death, the endless struggle in the Ladder, the bitter taste of every compromise he'd ever made. It was overwhelming, a maelstrom of emotion that threatened to tear her mind apart. But beneath the rage, she felt something else. A core of unyielding will, a flicker of the man she knew. The shard of Will in her pouch grew warm, responding to its counterpart.
Gritting her teeth, she closed her hand around the Shard of Rage. The world dissolved into a red haze. She felt the anger as her own, the despair as her own. She wanted to break things, to burn the world down for the injustice of it all. But then, a different feeling cut through the storm. A memory, not from the shard, but her own. Soren, smiling at her across a crowded tavern, his eyes soft for a moment, the hard lines of his face easing. It was an anchor in the storm. She clung to it, using her own love as a shield against his pain.
With a cry that was part her own and part his, she pulled. The crystal resisted, the rock around it groaning. Then, with a sharp crack, it came free. The cavern went silent. The oppressive heat vanished, replaced by a sudden, chilling cold. The shard in her hand pulsed once, a final, angry beat, and then the light within it subsided, turning from a violent red to a deep, smoldering crimson, like the last embers of a fire. The psychic pressure receded, leaving her feeling hollowed out, but strangely clear.
She turned back to ruku bez. He had sunk to one knee, his body swaying, the wound on his shoulder a mess of cauterized flesh and cracked rock. He had given everything for her. She rushed to his side, the two shards in her hand feeling impossibly heavy. "We have to get out of here," she said, her voice hoarse. "We have to find a way to help you."
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a gentle exhaustion. He reached out with his good hand and gently touched the pouch containing the shards. A silent acknowledgment. A shared purpose. They had the first piece. But the cost had been high, and she knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that the other shards would not be any easier to reclaim.