The scorched village lay still under the smoky sky, but danger hadn't passed. If anything, it had only burrowed deeper.
Veyrith's forces—Burn Sigils and mercenary warriors—moved like a swarm, dragging trembling villagers into the square. Their weapons glowed faintly, flickers of crimson and violet essence humming through their veins.
"Where is the sword?" one snarled, gripping an elder by the collar.
"We don't know!" the old man cried. "Only the outcast family guarded the site. They're gone!"
A kick sent him sprawling into the dirt. Veyrith stepped forward, eyes burning.
"Then start digging."
With cruel precision, the Black Fangs stormed into the old forest shrine on the village outskirts—an abandoned structure, half-buried in moss and rubble. There, beneath twisted roots and layers of stone, lay a sealed passage… ancient, whispering secrets none had heard in decades.
Meanwhile—far beyond the smoke and chaos—Kael sat crouched behind a ridge of stone. Beside him, Yuna clutched her side, bandaged and breathing steadily.
The healing had worked.
Barely.
"You alright?" he whispered.
Yuna nodded. "Better than before. They really tore through that village…"
Kael clenched his fists. "I won't let them find the sword."
They had trailed the Fangs from a distance, staying hidden beneath the tree line. Kael's essence pulsed steadily again—more refined, more focused. Not enough to win in a head-on fight… but maybe enough to outmaneuver.
"We have to get ahead of them," Yuna muttered, peering through the foliage.
Kael scanned the terrain. "We'll move once the last group enters the shrine. If they're all inside, we might have a shot."
Yuna smirked. "You sure you're not just trying to impress me?"
"Maybe a little."
They moved.
Crawling through brush, avoiding loose gravel, darting between ruined houses—Kael and Yuna slipped through the shadow of their enemies, silent as whispers.
Down below, inside the shrine's depths, the sigils dug furiously through layers of stone. Symbols on the walls shimmered faintly as they unearthed what looked like an ancient altar.
"There!" one cried. "Something's sealed under this!"
Veyrith stepped forward.
The altar groaned as they forced it open.
A heavy pressure filled the chamber.
Dark.
Cold.
And hungry.
Inside—just visible beneath cracked obsidian rock—was the hilt of a jet-black sword, glowing faintly with red veins that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Dreskan stepped back. "That thing… it feels wrong."
Veyrith smiled. "Exactly."
From the shadows above, Kael and Yuna peered through a crack in the stone ceiling.
"That's it," Kael breathed. "That's the sword."
Yuna looked at him sharply. "Kael… we can't let them take it."
"I know."
Down below, Veyrith reached out, hand trembling slightly as he neared the blade.
But the moment his fingers brushed the hilt—
Lightning burst from the sword.
It rejected him, violently.
Veyrith screamed, thrown backward as arcs of dark-red energy laced through his body.
The sword pulsed again.
Waiting.
Calling.
And from the shadows, Kael heard it.
A voice—not in his ears, but in his bones.
"Come."
He exhaled.
Then whispered to Yuna, "It's waiting for me."