Chapter 46 – The Weeping Obelisk
The air grew heavier as Kael, Liora, and Darric left the drowned ruins of the Sunken Fortress. The wasteland no longer stretched in ash-gray silence—it wept. A low, mournful resonance carried across the barren expanse, like a dirge sung by stone itself.
Ahead, rising from cracked earth, stood a towering shape: a black monolith, split with glowing veins of fragment energy. Water streamed endlessly from its fissures, but the liquid was not rainwater—it was condensed energy, crystallized into shimmering tears that dripped into the soil, turning it glassy and unstable.
"The Weeping Obelisk," Liora whispered, reverence in her tone. "They say its voice is eternal. That it cries for every fragment torn from the world."
Darric frowned, tightening his grip on his staff. "Fantastic. So now rocks have feelings. Let me guess—it's not just crying for fun, is it?"
Kael raised the shard, letting it pulse. The resonance was overwhelming, heavy and sorrowful, pulling at his chest. Unlike the Furnace's fury or the Fortress's patience, this ruin radiated grief—raw, unending grief that threatened to smother reason. The shard trembled in his hand, as if unwilling to approach.
"It's not mourning for nothing," Kael murmured. "There's something trapped inside. Something that remembers."
As they crossed the fractured ground, illusions began to bleed from the tears. Figures emerged from the watery glow—phantoms of the past, faces twisted in sorrow. Some appeared familiar: long-lost friends, comrades they had seen fall in earlier battles, even strangers they never knew but who carried grief heavy enough to shape themselves into memory.
Darric froze as one form approached him—a tall figure wrapped in the tattered cloak of an old order. His brother.
"No," Darric breathed, his voice breaking. "You… you died years ago."
The phantom said nothing, only reached for him. Its touch rippled with fragment energy, an echo of pain, a weight pressing into his mind. Darric's knees buckled.
Kael immediately pulsed the shard, harmonizing a wave of stability. "It's not him," he said firmly. "They're illusions—grief given shape. Don't let it anchor in you."
Liora stepped in, grabbing Darric by the shoulder, grounding him with sheer force of will. "Breathe. Listen to Kael. This place will use your sorrow against you. Don't feed it."
They pressed onward, but the phantoms multiplied. Kael himself saw his father's silhouette, standing by the ruined house from his childhood. The figure lifted its head, eyes wet with grief. You abandoned us, it whispered. You survived when others didn't.
The weight nearly crushed him. His shard pulsed violently, trying to reject the illusion, but his chest clenched with guilt.
"Kael." Liora's voice cut through again, sharp and commanding. "That's not real. Remember who you are."
He exhaled hard, focusing on the shard's rhythm. The illusion dissolved into mist. Still, the grief lingered. The Weeping Obelisk didn't just project images; it probed the deepest wounds, pulling them open like raw flesh.
At the base of the Obelisk, they found the source of the tears: a massive fracture running the length of the stone. Within, fragment energy pulsed erratically, screaming in sorrow. Each droplet that fell carried memory, echoing into the ground.
Kael knelt, pressing the shard against the fissure. His vision blurred—suddenly he was pulled inside.
A vast chamber stretched within the Obelisk, not of stone but of memory. Thousands of voices cried out in overlapping chorus, each one a fragment of the past. Soldiers, civilians, children—every voice wept. Kael staggered under the weight of it, struggling to breathe.
A figure emerged from the resonance: tall, cloaked, faceless. Its body was made of the same liquid crystal as the Obelisk's tears. The Weeping Guardian.
"You bear the shard," it spoke, voice layered with countless tones. "You carry hope. But can you carry sorrow?"
The Guardian lifted its hand. Waves of grief slammed into Kael, showing him moments of failure, betrayal, loss—every regret magnified until it threatened to crush him.
Outside, Liora and Darric saw Kael convulsing, his shard glowing wildly. They realized he was caught within the Obelisk's resonance.
"We have to anchor him," Liora said, planting her palms against the stone. She sent her own fragment pulse, weaving stability. Darric followed, grounding the currents with brute force, even as illusions of their own grief clawed at them.
Inside, Kael fought to hold himself together. Every step in the memory chamber dragged him deeper into despair. The Weeping Guardian loomed, feeding on his weakness.
"You think you lead them," it intoned. "But you will fail. As you failed before."
Kael clenched his jaw. "Maybe I have failed. Maybe I will again. But I don't stop."
He pushed the shard outward, harmonizing not to erase grief, but to accept it. The resonance shifted. The voices quieted slightly, recognizing the change.
The Guardian tilted its head. "You… carry sorrow willingly?"
Kael staggered forward, sweat streaming down his face. "Sorrow doesn't break me. It reminds me of what I fight for. Every voice here… they deserve to be remembered, not forgotten."
The shard pulsed in agreement, brighter now, resonating not in defiance but in alignment with the grief. The Guardian's form trembled.
"You… understand."
The thousands of voices shifted, no longer wailing in pain but echoing in solemn unity. The Guardian dissolved into light, its energy merging with the shard.
Kael collapsed, gasping, as his vision returned to the outer world. Liora caught him, steadying his shoulders.
"You did it," she said softly. "You silenced it."
He shook his head, correcting her. "No. I didn't silence it. I listened."
The Weeping Obelisk no longer dripped tears. The fracture still glowed, but its resonance was steady, calm. The grief remained, but it was no longer raw—it was memory, preserved and honored.
Darric leaned heavily on his staff, pale but smirking faintly. "Next ruin better be a happy one. I'm running out of tears I didn't even know I had."
Kael allowed himself a tired laugh, though his chest was still heavy. The shard pulsed steadily, now carrying the sorrowful resonance of the Obelisk. It felt heavier, but also more grounded—like carrying the weight of many lives within himself.
Liora looked to the horizon. "Every ruin is a reflection of us. And every time, it leaves something behind."
Kael nodded. "Then we'll carry it. Together."
They turned from the Obelisk, leaving behind a monument that no longer wept, but still remembered. The wasteland stretched on, endless and unknown, but Kael's stride was firmer. He carried grief now—not as a chain, but as a vow.