Chapter 23: The Gathering Storm

The night was restless. Even with the fire crackling between them, casting flickering shadows against the jagged rock formations, the weight of the recent encounter still loomed over Elliot, Seris, and Dain. The Veilborn had been unlike anything Elliot had ever seen—its presence otherworldly, its intent unmistakable.

Dain sat a short distance from the fire, his bow resting across his lap as his golden eyes scanned the darkness beyond their makeshift camp. He had barely spoken since they stopped for the night, his usual sharp remarks replaced by a brooding silence.

Seris, on the other hand, busied herself with sharpening her blade, her movements methodical, precise. Sparks flew from the steel as she ran the whetstone down its edge, the repetitive sound grounding Elliot's thoughts as he stared into the flames.

"You're too quiet," Seris finally said, her voice breaking the silence. She didn't look up from her task, but the statement was clearly directed at Dain.

Dain let out a slow breath but didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was unreadable. "That thing was after him." He nodded toward Elliot. "And it's not the only one."

Elliot tensed. "You think there will be more?"

"There will be more," Dain corrected. "Creatures like that don't act alone. They're drawn to power—especially to artifacts like that shard of yours."

Elliot glanced down at the fragment in his palm, its surface catching the firelight in a way that made it seem alive. He had suspected as much. Ever since he had first touched it in the library, strange events had followed. But now, hearing Dain confirm it, the reality of his situation felt even heavier.

Seris set her sword aside, stretching her arms as she leaned back against a nearby rock. "So what's your plan, Hunter? You have that look in your eyes."

Dain's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "We need to move before dawn. The Veilborn won't attack while the sun is up, but they'll be watching."

Elliot frowned. "Watching? From where?"

"The shadows," Dain said simply. "They linger at the edges of reality, waiting for an opportunity."

Elliot swallowed hard. It was one thing to fight something tangible—something with a physical form. But an enemy that lurked unseen, waiting in the darkness, was something else entirely.

Seris exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Great. So we have an audience of shadow creatures stalking us. Just another day in paradise."

Dain leaned forward, his expression serious. "This isn't a joke, Seris. We need to find shelter—somewhere defensible. I know a place not too far from here. A ruined outpost. We can rest there, gather supplies, and plan our next move."

Elliot nodded, gripping the shard tighter. "Then we leave at first light."

The journey was grueling. The terrain beyond the ruins was harsh, filled with jagged cliffs and treacherous pathways. Dawn's first light did little to ease the tension that clung to them, but it was a comfort knowing that the Veilborn would remain hidden, at least for now.

Dain led the way, moving with the precision of someone who had traveled this route before. Elliot struggled to keep up, his legs aching from the relentless pace. Seris walked beside him, offering the occasional warning about loose rocks or steep drops.

"How far is this outpost?" Elliot asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Not much farther," Dain replied. "A few more miles."

Elliot groaned. "Easy for you to say. You're used to this."

Seris chuckled. "Welcome to real travel, scholar. No carriages or soft beds out here."

Despite the exhaustion, Elliot found himself smiling. The banter, however brief, was a small reminder that he wasn't alone in this.

As they pressed on, the landscape began to change. The desolation of the ruins gave way to remnants of civilization—crumbling walls overtaken by creeping vines, shattered statues of figures long forgotten. The air carried a different weight here, a sense of history buried beneath the decay.

"This place was once part of the old kingdom," Dain muttered, glancing at a broken column with an unreadable inscription. "Before the Fracture."

Elliot perked up. "The Fracture? You mean the cataclysm that shattered this world?"

Dain nodded. "The same. Some say it was caused by the greed of men, others claim it was the will of the gods. Either way, this world has never been the same since."

Elliot's mind raced. The historian in him ached to learn more, to piece together the lost knowledge of this fractured realm. But now wasn't the time.

They continued in silence until the outpost came into view. It was a small fortress, half-buried in the rocky landscape, its walls weathered but still standing. Dain signaled for them to stop, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the entrance.

"We're not alone," he whispered.

Seris' hand went to her sword. Elliot felt his pulse quicken. "Who—?"

Before he could finish, a voice called out from the shadows of the ruined gateway.

"Well, well. I was wondering when you'd show up, Hunter."

A figure stepped forward—tall, armored, with a wicked grin beneath a hooded cloak. Their presence exuded confidence, their stance relaxed but ready.

Dain's jaw tightened. "Kaela."

Seris muttered a curse under her breath. "You know this girl?"

"Unfortunately," Dain replied. "And if she's here, that means trouble."

Elliot's grip on the shard tightened. Trouble was the last thing they needed.