The Scarred Veil

The crater lay still, steam rising faintly from the frozen ground where the dragon had vanished. The relics—once bright and powerful—now sat cold and dull, their light extinguished as the seal held firm.

Eryndor remained kneeling, his cursed arm smoldering faintly. The fire that had once raged within him felt… dimmed.

Kaelith dropped beside him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Eryndor, talk to me. Are you alright?"

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his muscles easing. "It's… quiet."

Kaelith frowned. "Quiet's usually good. But with you, I'm not sure that's comforting."

Eryndor flexed his fingers. The cursed fire still lingered, faint embers beneath his skin, but something felt different—as if part of the flame had been left in the veil.

"I can still feel it," he muttered. "But it's weaker."

Kaelith studied him carefully. "You sealed the dragon, didn't you? That's what we wanted."

Eryndor's gaze drifted to the relics scattered around the crater. "I didn't seal it. I put it back to sleep."

Rhoan stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the ice. His sword was still drawn, though he kept the blade low. "And how long until it wakes again?"

Eryndor met his eyes. "I don't know. Could be years. Could be days."

Rhoan's jaw tightened. "That's not good enough."

Kaelith stood, rolling her shoulders. "Then what do you suggest? Fighting it head-on next time?" She glanced at Eryndor. "I'm pretty sure that didn't work out so well for the last Flamebearers."

Rhoan sheathed his sword, his gaze lingering on the ground where the dragon's claw had torn through the ice. "We need more than relics and curses to stop what's coming. This isn't over."

Eryndor rose slowly, adjusting the strap of his pack. "I know. The veil's cracked. And whatever's behind it… it's not just the dragon."

Kaelith's brow furrowed. "You think something else is stirring?"

Eryndor nodded. "The shadows. The ones we fought before—they weren't part of the dragon. They were something else. And I think they're still watching."

Kaelith glanced over her shoulder at the distant treeline, her hand drifting toward her dagger. "Perfect. So we have a sealed dragon and mysterious shadow creatures stalking us."

Rhoan's voice was cold. "This isn't a victory, Eryndor. We bought time. Nothing more."

Eryndor met his gaze steadily. "Time is all we need."

Rhoan didn't respond immediately. His red eyes flickered faintly, but whatever darkness had bound him before was gone now.

Finally, Rhoan nodded. "Then make the most of it."

Without another word, he turned and began his descent down the mountain, disappearing into the thinning mist.

Kaelith watched him go, her arms crossed. "You think he's really free from whatever was controlling him?"

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed softly. "For now."

Kaelith shook her head with a faint smirk. "You say that a lot."

Eryndor glanced at the crater one last time. The relics lay dormant, their power spent. But something deeper—**beneath the ice, beneath the veil—**still stirred faintly.

"We're not done yet," Eryndor said quietly.

Kaelith fell in step beside him as they left the scarred battlefield behind. "Yeah, I figured as much."

As they descended the ridge, the wind carried faint whispers through the trees—the echo of something watching from the veil's edge.

And somewhere far below, a pair of glowing eyes flickered to life once more.