The cavern burned with silver light, spilling from the fissures in the black monolith. The hand that reached forth was neither flesh nor stone but a living fusion of shadow and flame, its fingers curling toward Kaelen as though it had waited for him alone.
The shard within his chest roared in recognition. It was no longer a whisper but a scream, thrashing inside him like a beast straining against its chains. His vision swam. Shadows leapt from his feet, writhing across the stone floor, reaching hungrily toward the hand.
"Kaelen!" Lira's voice cut through the storm. Her silver eyes locked on him, grounding him even as the air vibrated with the voice of the forgotten.
Serenya drew her axe, her stance wide. "Strike it down before it takes him!"
"No!" Lira snapped, stepping between Kaelen and the monolith. "You don't understand—"
"I understand enough," Serenya snarled. "That thing wants him, and if it succeeds, we lose not just Kaelen but the entire stronghold."
Kaelen's knees buckled. The hand's fingers brushed the edge of his shadow, and the world snapped apart.
He stood in a wasteland of ash. The sky was a sickly red, the horizon broken by ruins of towers that once clawed toward heaven but now lay shattered and bleeding smoke. All around him stood figures cloaked in shadow, their eyes burning like coals in hollow sockets.
The voice thundered again, echoing through the desolation.
"You are not the first."
The shadow-cloaked figures stepped forward. One by one, their forms clarified—warriors, mages, kings, and beggars alike, each bearing a shard of black crystal buried in their flesh. Their voices mingled into a chorus of agony.
"We carried it before you. We bled for its power. We burned for its promise. And we fell."
Kaelen's breath hitched. His hand instinctively reached for his chest where the shard pulsed, a parasite embedded in his soul. "What are you?" he demanded, though his voice trembled.
A warrior with a scar splitting his jaw bared broken teeth. "I was a king once. My shard made me a god to my people. Until I slaughtered them myself."
A woman cloaked in priestly robes raised skeletal hands. "I was a healer. I sought to mend the world. Instead, I withered it into dust."
One by one, they spoke, each story worse than the last—heroes who became monsters, protectors who became tyrants, lovers who became butchers. Each had believed they could master the shard. Each had failed.
Kaelen's chest constricted. Their words weren't just warnings—they were prophecies. He saw flashes of himself among them, shadow spilling from his veins, eyes hollow with hunger. His sister's laughter twisted into screams. The Ashborn stronghold burning by his hand.
The voice rose above the chorus.
"Will you wield me, or will you break as all others have?"
The wasteland shook. The figures dissolved into smoke, their voices dissolving into howls of despair. The ground split, and from the abyss rose a figure vast and terrible—a giant forged of shadow-fire, its body cracked with rivers of silver light. In its chest burned a shard the size of a mountain.
Its hand reached down, the same hand Kaelen had seen in the cavern.
"Choose, Kaelen. Surrender, and I will grant you dominion. Resist, and I will break you."
Kaelen fell to his knees. The shard within him pulsed harder, syncing with the titan's heartbeat. It wanted this union. It wanted him to give in, to drown in power so absolute that the world itself would kneel.
But in the roar of the titan's voice, he heard another sound—quiet, fragile, but unbroken.
His sister's laughter.
Not the scream. Not the fire. But the memory of her joy, untouched by shadow. He clung to it desperately, holding it like a lifeline.
"I am not your weapon," Kaelen growled, forcing the words through gritted teeth. His shadow writhed, threatening to consume him, but he forced it back inch by inch. "I am not your vessel. I am Kaelen. And I decide."
The titan's roar shook the wasteland. Shadow-fire poured from its cracks, searing Kaelen's skin, but he held his ground, teeth bared against the inferno.
The voice thundered one final time.
"Then prove it."
Kaelen gasped as he snapped back into the cavern. His body collapsed against the stone, breath ragged, sweat dripping into his eyes. The monolith still loomed, its fissures glowing with fading silver light. The hand lingered for a heartbeat longer, then slowly withdrew back into the stone. The crack sealed, leaving only a faint, glowing scar across its surface.
Lira knelt beside him instantly, gripping his shoulders. "Kaelen! Speak to me."
He swallowed hard. "I… saw them. The others. All who bore the shard before me." His eyes met hers, haunted. "They all fell."
Serenya stood tense, her axe still in hand, though her gaze had softened with something dangerously close to respect. "And yet you did not."
Kaelen looked down. Across his right forearm, a brand burned black against his skin, shaped like jagged runes. It pulsed faintly, the same rhythm as the shard in his chest.
"What did it give you?" Lira asked softly.
Kaelen shook his head. "Not power. Not yet. A warning. A challenge. It wants me to prove myself."
"And you will," Serenya said, though her voice carried a grim edge. "Or it will devour you as it devoured the rest."
Before Kaelen could respond, a sound broke through the cavern—the hurried footsteps of armored boots. A young Ashborn soldier stumbled into the chamber, his face pale, breath ragged.
"Commander! Scouts on the eastern ridge—" He doubled over, panting before forcing the words out. "The Hollow Crown marches. Their banners are within sight."
The council chamber's torches seemed to flare in Kaelen's memory, as though mocking his earlier words. The storm had come faster than they had feared.
Lira rose slowly, her cloak settling around her like falling blood. "The war has arrived."
Kaelen staggered to his feet, the brand on his arm burning hotter, the shard within him pulsing in time with the enemy's march.
He met Serenya's gaze, then Lira's, his voice low but resolute. "Then we will meet it. Not as prey. Not as shadows. But as Ashborn."
The cavern's silence broke as the sound of distant war horns echoed through the mountain.