The Thornfields of Kareth unfurled before Caelen and Elira like a wound upon the earth—charred plains and skeletal trees clawing at a sky heavy with ash. Once a thriving valley, it was now a testament to war's ruin, the air thick with the stench of smoke and decay. Their footsteps sank into the gray dust, a silent shroud muffling the land's cries.
Caelen's curse stirred, a dull ache blooming into a relentless pulse. The pain here was ancient, etched deep into the soil—soldiers' dying breaths, the wails of broken families, the earth's own betrayal. He pressed a hand to his chest, where the scar from his curse burned, and gritted his teeth.
Elira walked beside him, her face a mask of resolve."This was Kareth," she murmured. "A kingdom swallowed by greed and flame. My people used it as a cautionary tale."
"I feel it," Caelen rasped, his voice tight. "Every scream, every tear. It's endless."
She glanced at him, worry flickering in her dark eyes. "Can you manage?"
He forced a nod. "I have to."
The day wore on, revealing crumbled ruins—stone husks of homes and temples, overtaken by thorns. Scrawny rabbits darted through brittle underbrush. Crows circled above, their cries as hollow as the land. Even the animals bore the weight of despair.
As dusk fell, they camped beside a shattered wall, its leaning shadow their only shield. Caelen coaxed a small fire to life, its glow a fragile rebellion against the dark.
Elira sat close, her dagger gleaming in the firelight.
"You're quiet," he said, stirring the flames with a twig.
"This place…" She shivered, rubbing her arms. "It's too much like home. Like what Aerthalin could become."
He hesitated, his hand hovering near hers, but her storm of pain held him back."We'll stop it," he said, the words tasting of dust.
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
He stared into the fire. "Then I'll promise to try. To keep going, no matter what."
She met his gaze, her expression softening. "That's enough, then."
The fire crackled between them, its warmth flickering against the cold air. Caelen's curse hummed low in his chest, the land's sorrow a constant thrum—but Elira's presence grounded him, a tether in the abyss.
For now, it held.