franzthemaker

In the kingdom of Ashenfall, where magic is drawn from ancient relics, a dark conspiracy threatens to unravel the fragile peace between the four great houses. A mysterious veil of shadows begins to creep over the land, and rumors spread of forgotten gods awakening beneath the mountains.

The Vail of Ashenfall

By the time Eryndor and Kaelith emerged from the fortress, the sky had turned a dull gray, thick clouds rolling in from the north. The relics in Eryndor's pack hummed faintly, their combined energy crackling like static in the air.

Kaelith pulled her cloak tighter, glancing at the horizon. "That storm's moving fast. Faster than it should."

Eryndor's cursed arm burned softly beneath his sleeve. "It's not just a storm. The veil's weakening. Whatever's been holding the dragon beneath it… won't for much longer."

Kaelith shot him a look. "And we're still heading toward that, right?"

Eryndor smirked faintly. "We're the only ones who can stop it."

She sighed, falling in step beside him. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

The wind howled through the valley as they descended the mountain path, snow swirling around them in heavy sheets. By nightfall, the storm had fully descended, and visibility dropped to almost nothing.

Kaelith's voice cut through the wind. "We need to find shelter or we'll freeze out here."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed stronger now, guiding him forward. "There's a cave up ahead. I can feel it."

Kaelith frowned but followed without argument. True to his word, a narrow cave opened along the mountainside, half-hidden beneath snow and twisted branches.

The two slipped inside, shaking off the cold as Eryndor lit a small fire with the flick of his cursed hand.

Kaelith sank to the ground, stretching out her legs. "You know, I'm starting to think this curse of yours has its benefits."

Eryndor smirked but said nothing. His gaze drifted to the mouth of the cave, where the storm raged on outside.

Kaelith noticed his expression. "What's on your mind?"

Eryndor leaned against the cave wall, arms crossed. "The warden, the shadows, even the king's Blades… they've all been guarding something. But none of them have tried to destroy the relics outright."

Kaelith frowned. "Maybe they can't?"

"Or maybe they need them," Eryndor said quietly. "The dragon beneath the veil isn't just bound by the relics. It's bound to them. Breaking one would release it, but gathering all four…"

Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "You're saying the relics aren't just keys. They're bait."

Eryndor nodded. "Whoever is behind this—whatever's driving those shadows—they want us to gather the relics for them."

Kaelith's expression hardened. "So what do we do?"

Eryndor exhaled, staring at the fire. "We keep going. But once we have the final relic, we destroy them. All of them."

Kaelith arched a brow. "And if that doesn't work?"

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed faintly. "Then we face the dragon head-on."

Kaelith stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head with a soft chuckle. "You really know how to pick the simple jobs."

They left the cave at dawn, the storm finally easing as sunlight pierced the clouds. The path ahead led them toward the farthest peak, where the final relic waited beneath the heart of the veil.

As they walked, Eryndor felt the shift in the air—subtle, but growing. The veil was thinning, cracks forming at the edges of reality.

Kaelith's hand drifted to her dagger. "Feels like something's watching us."

Eryndor didn't slow his pace. "That's because something is."

From the ridgeline above, faint figures began to emerge—cloaked in black, their eyes burning red like embers.

Eryndor's cursed arm ignited, blue fire trailing along his veins. "They're not here to talk."

Kaelith drew her dagger, falling into a defensive stance. "Well, at least they're predictable."

Eryndor raised his sword, the flames roaring to life. "Let's finish this."

The battle for the final relic had begun.

The Veil Cracks