The ruins grew colder the deeper they went.
What little sunlight pierced the Veilwood was swallowed by the thickening mist, and Kaelen could feel the corruption in the air — a greasy, clinging presence that made every breath a struggle.
Elowen moved like a shadow ahead of him, blade drawn, senses sharp.
Kaelen gripped his Warden Blade tighter. His ribs still ached from the Blightborn's attack, but the new power thrumming inside him gave him strength he hadn't known he possessed.
As they rounded a shattered tower, Kaelen caught sight of it:
A figure standing atop a broken dais, arms raised high, chanting in a tongue that scraped against his mind like rusted metal.
The man — if it could still be called that — was draped in robes of tattered black and crimson. His skin was ashen gray, veins pulsing with blackness, and his eyes were twin pools of void.
Around him, the earth writhed. Black vines burst from the ground, twisting and growing, forming grotesque shapes — half-plant, half-flesh.
"The Blightcaller," Elowen whispered, her voice taut with loathing.
Kaelen felt the Warden Flame inside him flare in warning.
This was no beast.
This was willful corruption — a mind twisted and sharpened into a weapon.
Without hesitation, Elowen stepped forward.
But before they could strike, the Blightcaller turned.
His mouth split into a too-wide grin.
"Ah... the last ember of the Wardens," he rasped, his voice like cracking bone. "How quaint."
Kaelen felt the corruption pressing against his mind, oily tendrils seeking purchase. He gritted his teeth and pushed back, summoning the Warden's Sight.
The world shifted.
Threads of darkness crawled from the Blightcaller's body — thick, knotted cords of corruption anchored deep into the earth.
Kaelen knew instinctively: as long as those roots remained, the Blightcaller would be almost unstoppable.
"We have to sever the anchors!" Kaelen shouted.
Elowen nodded, already moving.
The Blightcaller screeched and thrust his hands forward.
The ground split open.
Creatures crawled out — once animals, now twisted into mockeries of life, stitched together by vines and blackened flesh.
Kaelen lunged into the fray.
His blade sang through the mist, cleaving through corrupted beasts, blue fire flaring with every strike.
He ducked under a lunging horror that once might have been a wolf, driving his sword up into its chest — right where his Warden's Sight showed the corruption thinnest.
It dissolved into ash.
But for every creature they felled, more rose.
The Blightcaller laughed, a sound that made Kaelen's skin crawl.
"You cannot stop the bloom, little Warden," he hissed. "The Court rises. The Flame will gutter and die!"
Kaelen's fury burned hotter.
He broke away from the fight, sprinting toward the nearest anchor — a thick black root wrapped around a crumbled pillar. His blade flashed, slicing deep.
The root shrieked — actually shrieked — and recoiled, spraying black ichor.
Across the dais, the Blightcaller staggered, momentarily weakened.
"Again!" Elowen cried, felling two creatures with a single sweeping arc of her blade.
Kaelen charged the second anchor.
This time, the Blightcaller reacted, hurling a bolt of dark magic toward him.
Instinct took over.
Kaelen raised his free hand — and without knowing how, he shaped the Warden Flame into a shimmering barrier of light.
The dark bolt struck the shield and exploded in a shower of sparks.
Kaelen gasped. His arm burned from the effort, but he didn't hesitate.
With a roar, he severed the second anchor.
The Blightcaller screamed, the sound inhuman, and the corrupted beasts around them faltered.
Seizing the moment, Elowen leapt.
Her blade sang, and for the first time, the Blightcaller bled — black, smoking blood that hissed as it hit the stones.
Kaelen moved in, joining her.
Together, they drove the Blightcaller back, blow after blow, until finally, with a final cry of rage, the corrupted sorcerer collapsed — his body consumed by the very vines he had summoned, dragged screaming into the earth.
Silence fell.
The mist began to thin, the air growing lighter.
Kaelen staggered, exhaustion catching up to him, but he stayed standing.
They had won.
But at what cost?
Elowen sheathed her sword and turned to him.
"You did well," she said. "Better than I expected."
Kaelen managed a tired grin.
"I had a good teacher."
She allowed herself a small smile.
But her next words wiped the smile from his face.
"This was only the first," she said grimly. "The Ashen Court has many more like him. Stronger. Smarter."
Kaelen looked to the north, where the corruption still festered beyond the horizon.
"I'll be ready," he said, voice hardening.
He had to be.
The world was counting on him — whether it knew it or not.