Chapter 6: The Ashen Wastes

The deeper they went, the colder it became.

Kael had expected the tunnel beneath the observatory to be damp and musty, filled with the lingering scent of old stone and stale air. Instead, the passage reeked of burnt metal and forgotten magic—a sharp, acrid scent that made his stomach turn.

It felt like they were walking into a tomb.

Lysara's glowing orb of starlight hovered between them, casting flickering shadows against the ancient walls. The inscriptions lining the passage shifted under the light, as if they were moving when no one was looking. Kael swore under his breath and looked away.

"I hate this place."

"You hate every place," Lysara muttered.

"Not true," Kael said. "I like taverns. And places without ghosts."

"This place isn't haunted," Kieran said, his voice quiet.

Kael shot him a look. "You sure? Because it feels haunted."

"It's worse than haunted." Kieran didn't elaborate.

Kael didn't press him.

The further they descended, the more the air thickened around them, growing heavier with each step. It wasn't just the heat—the air felt wrong, like it had been warped by something unnatural. Lysara rubbed at her temples, as if trying to shake off a headache.

Then, suddenly—the tunnel ended.

The three of them stood before a massive stone archway, its surface lined with crimson veins of energy pulsing through the cracks. Beyond it, a vast, open wasteland stretched beneath a sky filled with dying stars.

The Ashen Wastes.

Kael swallowed hard. He'd only been here once before, and the memory still sat in his bones like an old wound. The ground was cracked and scorched, the remnants of forgotten battles buried beneath layers of ash.

Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the massive skeletal remains of something that had once been alive—something ancient. Its ribs jutted from the ground like jagged spires, stretching toward the storm-lit sky.

Kael exhaled. "Well. That's unsettling."

Lysara stepped forward, studying the landscape. "The Astral Council believed this place was cursed."

"They weren't wrong," Kieran murmured.

Lysara glanced at him. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

A pause. Then—

"Yes."

Kael frowned. "Let me guess. Dain sent you?"

Kieran didn't answer immediately. His expression was unreadable. "I came here looking for answers."

Kael wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

Lysara turned toward him. "And did you find them?"

Kieran hesitated. Then he lifted his hand and pulled something from his cloak.

A shard of darkened crystal.

It pulsed faintly, an eerie, rhythmic glow that made Kael's skin prickle. He took a step back.

"The hell is that?"

"The first sign that the Heart of Aetheris is already unraveling," Kieran said.

Lysara's eyes darkened. "Where did you find this?"

Kieran's grip on the crystal tightened. "Beneath the ruins of the Fallen Spire."

Kael's stomach turned to ice. "You went to the Spire?"

Kieran didn't answer.

Lysara, however, understood immediately. She stepped forward, her voice sharper than before. "The Spire is where the Hollow King first appeared."

Kael shot her a look. "You mean where Dain first made his deal."

Lysara didn't correct him.

Kieran studied them both. "If you're here to stop what's coming, then you need to see it for yourselves."

Kael scowled. "See what?"

Kieran's gaze flickered to the storm-lit horizon, where the shattered remains of a once-mighty tower still stood against the sky.

"The place where Prince Dain died."

Silence.

Kael exhaled slowly. "You've got to be joking."

"I don't joke."

Lysara ran a hand through her hair. "You're telling me the ruins of the Fallen Spire are still intact?"

Kieran nodded. "Barely."

Kael swore under his breath. This was bad. The Spire wasn't just some old ruin—it was the birthplace of the Hollowborn. The last time anyone had set foot inside, they hadn't come back.

And now Kieran wanted them to walk straight into it.

Lysara must have been thinking the same thing, because she turned to Kieran, her expression unreadable. "If you really remember what happened at the Spire, then tell me something."

Kieran raised a brow.

She exhaled. "When Dain fell… was he alone?"

Kael frowned at the question. But Kieran's expression didn't change.

"No," he said quietly.

Lysara's fingers curled into a fist. "Then who was with him?"

Kieran hesitated. But when he spoke, his voice was softer.

"The same person who tried to save him."

Kael blinked.

Lysara's face darkened.

"…Vaeloria."

The name hung in the air like a curse.

The Exiled Empress.

The woman who had once ruled the Starforged Empire. The woman who had been overthrown after Dain's fall.

And the one person who might still know how to stop him.

Kael exhaled sharply. "You're saying the Empress was there?"

Kieran nodded.

Lysara's jaw tightened. "Then she knew what really happened. She knows why he fell."

Kieran's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "She does."

Kael didn't like where this was going. "And let me guess—we need to find her, don't we?"

Kieran's silence was enough of an answer.

Lysara exhaled sharply. "She's been missing for years."

Kieran turned toward the storm-lit ruins of the Spire.

"She's not missing," he said.

Kael stared at him. "Then where the hell is she?"

Kieran's expression didn't change.

"Waiting."