Beneath the Chains of Fire

Eryndor held the relic tightly in his cursed hand, feeling the weight of it pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. The blue flames flickered faintly around his wrist but didn't vanish. The chamber was silent now no more shadows, no more whispers just the heavy stillness of forgotten power.

Kaelith stepped closer, eyeing the relic warily. "You alright? You look like you just shook hands with death."

Eryndor let out a slow breath, tucking the relic into his pack. "Not death. Just the past… and it's not letting go."

Kaelith crossed her arms, leaning against a broken pillar. "That figure, the one that called you 'Flamebearer' it knew you."

Eryndor glanced at his arm, the faint glow of cursed fire still visible beneath his sleeve. "They always do."

Kaelith frowned. "And what did it mean by 'a chain'? That doesn't sound like a blessing."

Eryndor's eyes darkened as he looked toward the entrance of the spire. "Because it isn't."

Kaelith watched him carefully, her usual smirk absent. "So… are you going to explain, or do I have to guess?"

Eryndor hesitated, but as the cold air pressed in around them, he spoke quietly. "The fire in my arm it didn't come from a relic. It wasn't some ancient gift. It's… a curse tied to the veil. My father carried it before me. And his father before him."

Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "A bloodline curse."

Eryndor nodded. "It binds us to the relics to the veil itself. As long as the fire burns in me, I can find them… but the closer I get, the stronger the curse becomes."

Kaelith exhaled, shaking her head. "And if the curse burns too bright?"

Eryndor's jaw tightened. "Then I burn with it."

Silence hung between them for a long moment, broken only by the crackling of the dying blue flames along his arm.

Kaelith finally sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You know, most people would've mentioned that before dragging me halfway across the mountains."

Eryndor smirked faintly. "I didn't think it would matter."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "It matters when I'm standing next to a walking fire hazard."

Eryndor chuckled under his breath. "Fair point."

As the tension eased, Kaelith glanced toward the exit. "So, what now? We've got three relics. That leaves one."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed faintly, but this time the pull was weaker distant. "The last relic isn't here. It's farther north, past the mountains."

Kaelith groaned. "North. Of course it's north. Nothing good ever happens in the north."

Eryndor adjusted the strap of his pack. "We'll head out at first light. The last relic is the key to sealing the veil. If we stop whoever's after them, this ends."

Kaelith pushed herself off the pillar, rolling her shoulders. "Well, if we're stopping a kingdom from falling apart, at least it's not boring."

Eryndor glanced at her, his tone softening. "You could leave, you know. You don't have to follow me all the way to the end."

Kaelith snorted. "And miss out on all the fun? Not a chance."

Eryndor shook his head but smiled. "Let's hope you still feel that way when the shadows come back."

Kaelith's hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger. "I'm counting on it."

As they left the Hollow Spire and stepped into the fading light, Eryndor felt the weight of the relics pressing down on him three down, one to go.

But deep in the pit of his stomach, the warden's words haunted him.

"The dragon stirs… and no chain can hold it."