Chapter 20: The Hunter’s Vigil

The night had settled deep over the fractured land, a dense shroud of darkness swallowing the remnants of the ruins in the distance. Dain moved silently through the undergrowth, his steps precise, calculated. He had spent years perfecting the art of disappearing, of blending into the world like a shadow cast by the moon. Tonight was no different.

Except it was.

The moment his arrow had loosed toward the intruders—toward the so-called Keybearer—he had known something was different. He had been watching them, tracking their movements from the moment they had emerged from the ruins. Most who sought the shards met their end long before reaching this point. They were reckless, unworthy. Corpses before they even realized it.

But these two weren't like the others.

Dain crouched low on a crumbling ledge, peering down at the fading figures of Elliot and Seris as they pressed forward, their movements cautious but unwavering. They weren't fools. That much was clear. The woman, Seris, was especially dangerous. She moved like someone who had seen her fair share of death, someone who understood the language of battle better than the spoken word.

And Elliot… Dain narrowed his golden eyes.

There was something about him. Something that unsettled him in a way no opponent ever had. He carried himself with uncertainty, as if he hadn't yet realized his own strength, and yet the shard in his possession resonated with him in a way Dain had never seen before. Shards had power, but this was something else entirely.

He adjusted his grip on his bow, instincts warring within him. A part of him wanted to end it now, to strike from the darkness and be done with this complication. But another part—the part that had kept him alive all these years—urged caution.

Dain wasn't a killer without reason. And for now, he needed more information.

Slipping through the shadows, he followed at a distance, keeping his presence masked beneath the rustling leaves and whispering winds. His fingers brushed against the edge of his hood as his mind drifted back to the reason he was here in the first place.

The shards were dangerous. More dangerous than people realized. Those who sought them rarely understood the weight of what they carried, the destruction they invited simply by possessing a fragment of something greater. He had seen the aftermath. Cities left in ruin. Kingdoms crumbling from the inside out. Greed, madness, power—these things followed the shards like moths to a flame.

And now this man—this Elliot Webb—had one. Perhaps more than one.

Dain exhaled slowly, watching as Elliot and Seris finally slowed their pace, coming to a stop beneath the twisted remains of what once might have been a great archway. The stone was covered in deep gashes, scars left by time or something far worse. He listened carefully as they spoke, their voices barely audible against the whispering winds.

"We should rest soon," Seris muttered, shifting slightly as she scanned the area. "We've put enough distance between us and the ruins."

Elliot hesitated, glancing down at the shard in his hand. Even from his distance, Dain could see the faint glow it emitted, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. "Do you feel that?" Elliot murmured.

Seris frowned. "Feel what?"

"The shard. It's… reacting."

Dain tensed.

Elliot turned the shard over in his palm, as if trying to decipher the meaning of its pulse. "It's never done this before."

Seris didn't answer immediately, but the way her fingers hovered near her weapon told Dain she wasn't taking the change lightly. Smart.

But she wasn't the only one who had noticed.

A shift in the air. A presence beyond his own.

Dain's instincts screamed at him, and before he could second-guess himself, he moved. Faster than a breath, he leapt from his vantage point, landing in a crouch a short distance away from the pair. He ignored their startled reactions, his bow already drawn and aimed—not at them, but at the darkness beyond.

Something was watching them.

Elliot turned sharply, eyes narrowing. "What the hell—"

Dain silenced him with a sharp glance, his focus unyielding. "You're not alone."

Seris immediately shifted into a defensive stance, her blade gleaming in the dim light. "Where?"

Dain didn't answer. Instead, he listened. The sound was faint, barely noticeable over the wind, but it was there. A low, guttural hum, like the breath of something ancient stirring from its slumber. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Then, from the abyss of the broken archway, movement.

A single figure stepped into view, its form wrapped in a cloak of shifting darkness, as if it was more shadow than flesh. The air around it distorted, warping as it moved. And though no words were spoken, a pressure settled over the space, heavy and oppressive.

Dain kept his arrow trained on the figure, his pulse steady. "We need to move."

Elliot didn't move. He was staring at the figure, eyes wide with something between recognition and unease. "That's…"

The figure took another step forward. The shadows around it seemed to stretch, reaching toward them like grasping fingers. Then, at last, it spoke.

"Keybearer."

The voice was hollow, reverberating through the space like a whisper carried on the wind. And though it had only spoken a single word, Dain could feel the weight behind it, the same weight he had felt ever since he had first heard of the shards and those who sought them.

Elliot's breath caught. The shard in his grip pulsed wildly now, its glow intensifying as if responding to the presence before them.

Seris shifted beside him, tension coiling in her stance. "Elliot. We need to go."

But Elliot didn't move. His fingers tightened around the shard as his eyes remained locked on the figure.

Dain swore under his breath. This was exactly why the shards were dangerous. They weren't just relics. They weren't just fragments of history.

They were calling cards.

And something—someone—had answered.

Gritting his teeth, Dain loosed his arrow.

The night erupted into motion.