The road east of Hollowfen was buried in fog and silence.
Kael led the vanguard atop his steed, Flamecoil, the beast's hooves gliding over the swamp-rooted terrain with unnatural grace. Behind him, the ranks of their small company marched with quiet determination—soldiers, sorcerers, and Hollowfen wardens bound by a fresh accord. Overhead, pale birds circled without sound, their wings cutting the mist like knives.
Beside him rode Amaris, her form anchored fully to the mortal realm again. The spectral haze that once clung to her had faded in Hollowfen, replaced by a more defined presence. There was a new weight in her eyes, something Kael recognized: a burden that couldn't be shared.
They had a destination now—one whispered only in fragments even among the oldest texts. Beneath the Ashcliff Range, the stewards once sealed a gateway long before the Reaper Gates. A precursor, or perhaps a prototype, now stirring once more.
Kael broke the silence. "Do you feel it?"
Amaris didn't look at him. "Something in the ley is bending, as if reality's fabric is… creaking. That place isn't just a ruin. It remembers."
"And it wants to be remembered," Lyra added, appearing beside them on foot. She'd emerged from the fog as quietly as she'd vanished into it hours ago.
Kael frowned. "I thought you were scouting ahead."
"I was. Until I realized the landscape was shifting behind me. Whatever lies in the Ashcliffs doesn't want us arriving whole."
Kael gripped the hilt of his blade. "Then we arrive broken and win anyway."
---
That night, they made camp in the shadow of black pines. Fires were kept low, but even then, they cast strange shapes. The air smelled of sulfur and burned stone—remnants of old eruptions, perhaps, or something worse.
Kael sat by a stone outcrop, tracing the Sigil on his palm. It had grown hotter since Hollowfen, as if the deeper he traveled into forgotten places, the more the Sigil stirred.
Amaris sat nearby, braiding her hair. It was a small, human habit, one she seemed to perform when her thoughts turned inward.
"I used to think being free would feel… cleaner," she said softly. "Lighter. But I just feel like the chains got replaced by memories."
Kael met her gaze. "Memories are heavier than chains. But they shape how you swing the blade."
She looked at him, surprised. "That was… poetic."
He shrugged. "Don't get used to it."
---
By morning, the fog had thinned, revealing the jagged teeth of the Ashcliff Range. The path upward was carved by nature's violence—collapsed ledges, lava-scorched tunnels, and unstable ridges. It took them a day to ascend to the outer ledge of a shattered temple embedded in the cliffside.
This was no ruin of stone alone. The mountain had swallowed half of it, blackened vines growing where walls had once stood. Sigils older than Kael's memory burned faintly on the few standing arches.
"The Sealed Gate," Amaris whispered.
Kael stepped forward, the Sigil on his palm pulsing. "It's waking."
Lyra drew her daggers, her tone quiet but tense. "And so is something else."
From the shadows behind the fallen pillars, shapes emerged. Not demons, not men—Wardbearers, half-mummified sentries bound to protect the Sealed Gate. Their armor was fused to their bodies, eyes glowing blue with forgotten purpose.
Kael drew his sword. "Stand ready. These aren't like the others."
---
The battle was chaos carved in echoing stone.
Kael met the first Wardbearer head-on, his blade striking sparks as it clashed against a rusted halberd. The creature did not bleed. It groaned like breaking earth and swung with the force of a mountain.
Amaris flanked from behind, unleashing controlled bursts of flame that exploded into sigil-shaped rings. Each ring disrupted the protective wards clinging to the sentries, weakening them just enough for Lyra to slip in with her poisoned blades.
Kael caught one by the throat and slammed it into a wall, cracking its helm. "These things don't die easily."
"Because they're not alive!" Amaris shouted.
A Wardbearer surged toward her, but Kael intercepted it, driving his blade through its ribcage. Sigil-light flared from his weapon, unraveling the creature from within. It collapsed into ash and rust.
By the time they felled the last one, the temple's inner hall was littered with broken armor and burning incense that hadn't been lit in centuries.
The Sigil on Kael's palm flared.
A hidden panel of stone rumbled open.
---
They descended into the Gate's sanctum.
It was a vast chamber lit by bioluminescent fungi and ancient runes. In the center stood the Sealed Gate—tall, circular, and inscribed with runes that shimmered in phases, as if remembering each age it had endured.
Kael approached, breath catching. It felt… wrong. Not malevolent, but ancient in a way that made the soul recoil.
Amaris stepped beside him. "This gate predates even the veil. It's not bound to the world. It anchors it."
Lyra crouched beside a pedestal. "It was sealed from the inside. Look."
She pointed at the locking mechanism: a circular plate carved with three interlocking symbols.
Kael recognized the topmost one—it matched his Sigil.
"There are three?" he muttered.
"Yes," Amaris said. "Three anchors. Three Sigilbearers. But you're the only one awake."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Then the others are still alive."
"Or waiting in silence," Lyra added.
As Kael placed his hand over the first symbol, the runes flared and the chamber shook. For a moment, he saw through the gate—not to another world, but to a sea of stars threaded with shadow. A vast presence stirred beyond it, curious and ancient.
He yanked his hand back.
"We're not ready to open this," he said.
"No," Amaris agreed. "But someone else might be."
Kael turned to the others. "We collapse this pass. Seal the temple again. If the steward or his master comes looking for it, they'll find nothing but rubble."
They worked quickly. Amaris used fire to destabilize support columns. Kael used his blade to inscribe failsafe runes. Lyra rigged explosive glyphs.
As the tremor built, Kael gave one last look to the sealed gate.
Whatever lay behind it… would remain hidden. For now.
---
They emerged from the cliffs into the pale light of dusk. The world felt thinner, colder. Hollowfen's swampy breath was long behind them, replaced by wind that smelled of high-altitude dust and silent peaks.
Kael sat down on a flat boulder, wiping blood and ash from his blade.
Amaris approached him, handing him a waterskin.
"You're quieter than usual," she said.
"I keep wondering why I survived," Kael said. "Why me, out of all the ones who could've carried this burden?"
She sat beside him. "Because you're the one who questions it."
Kael looked up. "What if I'm not enough?"
"Then we all fall," Amaris said simply. "But until then, you keep walking."
He chuckled under his breath. "You've gotten better at speeches."
"I've been watching you."
He glanced sideways at her. For a moment, the weight of the journey, the pain of loss, the fear of what loomed ahead—all of it receded.
In its place was something fragile. Human.
Kael reached into his satchel and withdrew a map. A small circle marked their next destination: Calderra's Hollow.
A hidden city buried beneath glass sands, said to hold the second anchor.
The path ahead would be worse than Hollowfen. Worse than Ashcliff. But now they had allies, and the beginning of hope.
"We move at dawn," Kael said, folding the map.
"And if the Hollow Star rises before we get there?" Lyra asked from the shadows.
Kael stood.
"Then we burn brighter than ever before."