The Silent Fortress

By the time Eryndor and Kaelith reached the northern pass, the sun was sinking low, casting long shadows over the snow-covered valley. The trail led them to the edge of an ancient fortress, its towers long since crumbled, leaving jagged spires that pierced the sky like broken teeth.

Kaelith exhaled, eyeing the ruins warily. "Tell me this isn't where the last relic is."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed beneath his cloak, the familiar tug growing stronger. "It's here. Beneath the fortress."

Kaelith muttered under her breath. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be buried under something ominous and possibly haunted?"

Eryndor stepped forward, brushing snow from a weathered stone marker near the entrance. The sigil of the scarred eye was carved deep into the rock—worn, but still unmistakable.

"This place belonged to the first Flamebearers," Eryndor said quietly.

Kaelith knelt beside him, running her gloved hand over the sigil. "Your ancestors built this?"

Eryndor's eyes darkened. "They died here."

Kaelith's gaze flicked to him. "Fighting what?"

Eryndor rose, tightening the strap of his pack. "The dragon beneath the veil."

Kaelith's brow furrowed. "You keep mentioning this dragon, but we haven't seen any sign of it. What if it's just a story?"

Eryndor's cursed arm flared softly in response. He shook his head. "It's not just a story."

Kaelith studied him for a moment before sighing. "Alright, fearless leader. Lead the way."

They passed through the fortress gates, the heavy iron doors hanging loose on their hinges. Inside, the remains of the great hall stretched before them pillars toppled, ice covering the stone floor. Faint echoes of footsteps long forgotten seemed to trail behind them.

Kaelith glanced around. "I hate how quiet it is."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed again, stronger this time. The fire in his veins seemed to react to something beneath them.

"This way," he said, leading her toward a crumbling stairwell at the far end of the hall.

Kaelith hesitated at the top, peering down into the darkness. "You sure this isn't some elaborate trap?"

"Only one way to find out."

Eryndor descended the stairs, Kaelith close behind. The deeper they went, the colder the air became. Torches lined the walls, long extinguished, but faint embers sparked to life as Eryndor passed, as if recognizing him.

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's normal."

Eryndor didn't respond. His focus was locked on the chamber at the bottom of the staircase a circular room with a single stone pedestal at its center. Resting atop the pedestal was the final relic.

Kaelith exhaled softly. "That's it?"

Eryndor stepped forward, but the moment his foot crossed the threshold, the air shifted.

The torches along the walls flared brighter, illuminating carvings that lined the chamber. Images of Flamebearers locked in battle against shadowy figures, their swords burning with the same cursed fire that ran through Eryndor's veins.

Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "Eryndor… look at this."

Eryndor joined her, tracing the carvings with his hand. At the end of the mural, one figure stood alone his body engulfed in flames, while the shadows around him twisted and retreated.

Kaelith's voice lowered. "That's you, isn't it?"

Eryndor's cursed arm burned hotly, the fire spreading to his fingertips. He clenched his fist, suppressing the flames. "It's not me. It's what happens if I fail."

Kaelith took a step closer, lowering her voice. "You don't have to do this alone, Eryndor."

Before he could respond, the relic pulsed faintly on the pedestal, and a low, rumbling voice filled the chamber.

"One relic left… and yet the chain still binds you."

Eryndor turned sharply, drawing his sword. The flames along the blade ignited, casting long shadows across the chamber.

Kaelith spun around, dagger ready. "Please tell me that's not the dragon."

The voice echoed again, softer this time, as if carried by the wind. "The fire cannot protect you from what lies ahead."

Eryndor approached the pedestal, eyes locked on the relic. His cursed arm trembled, the blue fire intensifying as he reached for it.

The moment his hand touched the relic, the entire chamber shuddered.

Cracks spread along the stone floor, and the carvings on the walls shifted.

Kaelith took a step back. "Eryndor… what did you do?"

The carvings no longer depicted battles they showed chains breaking, flames spreading across the land.

Eryndor's cursed arm surged violently, and for the first time, he felt something pulling back.

"The dragon wakes," the voice whispered.

The relic in Eryndor's hand grew hot, and his vision blurred.

Kaelith's voice broke through the haze. "Eryndor!"

He staggered, barely catching himself against the pedestal. The relic pulsed once more, but this time, the fire in his arm didn't subside.

Kaelith grabbed his shoulder. "What's happening?"

Eryndor's eyes burned with blue light as he met her gaze. "The seal's breaking."

Kaelith's grip tightened. "Then we stop it."

Eryndor straightened, slipping the relic into his pack. "We'll have to move fast. If the dragon wakes, there won't be a second chance."

As they ascended the stairs, Kaelith glanced at him. "Do you think we're ready for this?"

Eryndor's cursed arm flickered in response. "We don't have a choice."

Beyond the fortress, storm clouds gathered on the horizon, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed across the valley.

The final battle was coming.