Chapter Sixty-Two: Beneath the Silent Ashes
The winds across the destroyed continent carried a strange warmth—one not born of sunlight, but of something deeper, something stirring beneath the earth. Kael and Lira stepped cautiously over scorched terrain, ash rising like snow with each footstep.
Charred bones, collapsed towers, and shattered weapons littered the landscape. Once-mighty kingdoms had vanished into ruin.
"This place…" Lira whispered, her voice trembling. "I can still feel the echoes. So many souls…"
Kael said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where a broken citadel leaned like a dying giant. His armor, worn and dulled by travel, caught flickers of white light that pulsed beneath his skin—remnants of the power that had awoken during the battle of Vareth.
"Do you think this was all him?" she asked. "The Endblade?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "No. Not just him. The world let it happen. We let it."
They crossed a riverbed turned to glass, where the bodies of soldiers were preserved like statues mid-scream. Among them, the old banners of fallen realms flapped in the ash-laden wind. None flew proudly anymore—only reminders of what was lost.
They found the remains of a village. No life, only memories scorched into stone. Lira knelt beside a crumbling doorway, running her fingers across etched names.
"I studied these people… this was once the heart of the continent," she said. "Now it's just a grave."
Kael approached a stone well. Inside, the water was untouched—pure, glowing faintly.
"It survived," he murmured.
Lira looked up. "What?"
He dipped his fingers in. "Not all the light is gone."
Suddenly, the earth trembled. Not violently—but enough to send ripples across the still water.
Both stood up fast, weapons drawn.
"Did you feel that?" Lira asked.
"Yeah…" Kael scanned the surroundings. "Something's still awake here."
From beyond the well, something moved beneath the ash. Slow. Deliberate.
A figure emerged—wrapped in burial cloth, its face hidden beneath a melted helmet. But its voice was clear, ancient.
"You carry his scent… and hers," it said.
"Whose?" Kael stepped forward, light flickering in his palm.
The figure paused, then pointed toward the horizon.
"The one who broke the sky. And the one who watched it burn."
Kael's grip tightened on his sword. "We came to see what remains."
"What remains?" the figure rasped. "Only ruin. But even from ruin, seeds grow."
"Who are you?"
"I am the last Watcher of this land. My purpose was to witness. Yours will be… to choose."
Kael and Lira exchanged glances. The Watcher turned and began to walk.
"If you want answers," it called, "follow the path of bones."
As it vanished into the dust, Kael exhaled.
"I hate riddles."
"Get used to them," Lira said. "This land speaks in riddles now."
And so they continued forward, unaware that with every step, the earth whispered ancient names not spoken in centuries—Kael's among them.