Chapter 21: Whispers in the Dark

The sky above the Ashen Wastes burned with an eerie, crimson glow. Storms of black ash drifted through the air like dying embers, clinging to the ruins of a once-great kingdom. The land had been dead for centuries, yet something stirred beneath its cracked surface.

A lone figure moved through the ruins, his tattered cloak barely shielding him from the searing wind. His boots crunched over shattered stone and bones long turned to dust.

He was being followed.

He knew better than to turn around.

Instead, he kept walking, pace steady, posture unshaken. The dagger hidden beneath his sleeve was a comfort, but it would do little against what lurked in the shadows.

At last, he reached the edge of the ruin, where a broken statue lay half-buried in the scorched earth.

A voice slithered through the air, smooth as silk.

"You are late, Theron."

Theron exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral as he turned.

A woman stood atop the broken statue, draped in a gown of midnight blue, her silver hair falling like a waterfall of moonlight. Her presence made the air feel thinner, as if reality itself bent around her will.

"Lady Selene," he greeted, inclining his head. "I came as quickly as I could."

Her pale lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I assume you bring news from the Hidden Force's Domain?"

Theron nodded. "The Empress is moving. She sent her will across the land, binding the dead to her cause. She has claimed the fallen, just as you predicted."

Selene's eyes gleamed. "Then it begins."

Theron hesitated. "There is more."

A gust of wind swept past them, carrying the distant howl of creatures lurking beyond the ruins.

"The Frostborn is changing," Theron said. "She used a power unlike anything I have ever seen. She didn't just freeze the dead—she unmade them. Even the Empress took notice."

Selene's expression darkened, her fingers tightening at her sides.

"That power was never meant to awaken."

Theron shifted uneasily. "And yet, it has."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Selene turned away, gazing out into the storm. "If Faye Wynter has tapped into that power, then the balance is already shifting."

Theron frowned. "The Empress will come for her."

Selene nodded. "Yes. But she is not the only one."

Her gaze flickered toward the dark horizon, where shapes moved in the ash, unseen by mortal eyes.

"Others are watching now," she murmured. "The Sovereigns of the Fallen Sanctum. The Lords of the Shadow Courts. Even those who should remain buried in history."

Theron felt a chill crawl down his spine. "Then we are running out of time."

Selene turned back to him, her silver eyes unreadable.

"Find her," she commanded. "Before they do."

---

Faye sat on the cold stone, her body still trembling from the aftermath of her magic. She could feel its remnants lingering in her veins—an unfamiliar power, vast and consuming, unlike any frost she had wielded before. It wasn't just ice. It was something deeper, something absolute.

Annihilation.

She clenched her fists, pressing them against her legs as she tried to steady her breath. The others hadn't spoken for a long time.

Kael was the first to break the silence.

"That wasn't frost," he said quietly.

Riven, standing nearby, still held his spear at the ready, watching the shattered remains of the cursed soldiers. "No," he muttered, "it wasn't."

Lyra crouched beside Faye, her brows furrowed in rare concern. "Faye… what the hell was that?"

Faye swallowed hard. "I don't know."

But she did.

Deep down, she knew.

Something had awakened within her. Something that even the Empress had taken notice of.

Talis let out a low growl, his massive body curling protectively around her. His frosted breath stirred the air, but his eyes—glowing like pale lanterns in the night—held a warning.

"You are changing."

Faye flinched at the voice that echoed in her mind. It wasn't just words; it was an impression, a weight pressing against her soul.

"This power is not meant to exist."

She exhaled sharply. Then why do I have it?

Talis didn't answer. He only watched.

Lyra crossed her arms. "Well, whatever it is, I like it. It shut those bastards down for good."

Kael, however, didn't share her enthusiasm. "And it cost her."

Faye glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. Her veins burned, as if the magic had taken something from her in return.

"It drains me," she admitted. "Like my body wasn't meant to hold it."

Kael's jaw tightened. "That's because it wasn't."

Faye looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

Kael hesitated, his usual unreadable mask faltering. He glanced at Riven, then Lyra. Then, with a heavy breath, he sat down across from her.

"Before I met you, before I ever stepped into these lands, I lived in a place where stories of that power still existed." His fingers traced the hilt of his dagger absentmindedly. "It wasn't called frost. It wasn't called ice."

He met her gaze.

"It was called Oblivion."

The word settled like a stone in her chest.

"Oblivion," she echoed.

Kael nodded. "Long ago, before the age of dragon riders, before even the first sovereigns, there were beings who wielded it. Not frost, not fire—pure, absolute destruction. They didn't just freeze their enemies. They erased them."

Riven exhaled sharply. "That… sounds like myth."

Kael's gaze didn't waver. "Myths are just truths buried in time."

Faye swallowed, gripping her arms. "And you're saying… I have that?"

Kael hesitated. "No. Not entirely. But you touched it. And if you keep using it, it will take more from you."

Lyra frowned. "Like what?"

Kael's expression darkened. "Yourself."

The words sent a shiver through her.

Before she could respond, Talis let out a low snarl. His massive wings flared, his head snapping toward the sky.

Faye felt it an instant later.

A presence.

Not the Empress—something else.

Kael was on his feet in a heartbeat. Riven grabbed his spear, Lyra her daggers.

Then—

A figure stepped from the shadows of the ruins.

A man, tall and lean, his cloak torn and dirtied by travel. His face was partially obscured by the hood he wore, but when he looked up—

His eyes were unlike any Faye had ever seen.

They were silver.

Not like moonlight. Not like metal.

Like something ancient.

Something watching.

He stopped a few paces away, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"You don't know me," he said, voice calm, measured. "But I know you, Faye Wynter."

Faye stiffened, her body coiling instinctively for a fight. "Who are you?"

The stranger lowered his hood.

"My name is Theron," he said. "And if you don't leave this place soon, the ones hunting you will find you first."