Ashes of the Old World

Pain dragged me back to consciousness.

The ground beneath me was rough and unkind, littered with broken stone and tangled roots. My muscles screamed in protest as I forced myself upright, blinking against the haze that clouded my vision.

The shard still burned in my palm, its black surface now dormant.

The Echo was gone.

Around me stretched a landscape I did not recognize — a wasteland of ruins and dead trees, bathed in the sickly light of a sun struggling to pierce the thick clouds overhead. Once, perhaps, this had been a city. Now it was nothing but shattered memories and crumbling bones.

The Empire's banners were absent here.

Even they had abandoned this place.

The wind carried no bird songs. No insect hums. Only the hollow moan of distant structures surrendering to time.

I staggered to my feet, clutching the relic-sword as it reformed in my hand. It hummed low, as if sensing unseen threats.

I was not alone.

Not anymore.

I moved cautiously through the ruins, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. Every cracked column, every collapsed archway seemed to watch me with unseen eyes.

The map burned behind my eyelids — the memory of the vision the shard had given me. I knew my path, even if I could not name it.

Toward the heart of the dead city.

Toward the Seal.

The relic guided me, a compass made of blood and old magic. As I passed a toppled statue — a warrior carved from obsidian, his face eroded beyond recognition — I felt a shift in the air.

A presence.

No.

Several.

I ducked instinctively behind the base of the statue, peering into the broken streets beyond.

Figures moved through the ruins — cloaked in gray, faces hidden behind iron masks. They moved like predators, silent and purposeful, weapons glinting at their sides.

Not soldiers.

Hunters.

And worse — they were not alone.

At their sides padded creatures twisted by alchemy and cruelty — massive wolf-like beasts, their fur stitched in patches, their eyes burning an unnatural blue.

Pale Watchers.

I swore under my breath. The Empire's secret police — and their nightmare hounds. If they had tracked me here, it meant the hunt was far more serious than I feared.

No negotiation.

No capture.

Only execution.

One of the hounds lifted its mutilated snout, sniffing the air.

Its head snapped toward my hiding place.

Damn it.

I bolted from cover just as the beast lunged, claws gouging deep trenches where I had crouched moments before.

A shout rose from the Watchers. Orders. Pursuit.

I ran, boots slamming against shattered stone, weaving through the broken landscape. The relic pulsed at my hip, urging speed, whispering survival into my bones.

I could hear them gaining — the hounds' snarls, the heavy beat of boots.

Closer.

Closer.

A ruined bridge loomed ahead, stretching across a chasm swallowed in mist. Half the structure had collapsed, the remaining span barely holding together.

No time to think.

I sprinted onto the bridge, every step sending cracks spiderwebbing through the weakened stone. Behind me, the Watchers gave chase without hesitation.

Halfway across, the bridge shuddered violently. Chunks of stone plummeted into the abyss below, swallowed by endless fog.

The relic flared.

I spun, raising the blade just as the first hound leapt.

Its body collided with the sword's edge — and split apart midair, dissolving into a cloud of ash.

The Watchers faltered for a heartbeat — enough for me to act.

I slammed the relic's point into the bridge, channeling its energy downward. A pulse of force tore through the structure, severing it from the far side.

The Watchers cried out as the bridge collapsed beneath them, falling into the mist with no hope of escape.

Silence reigned once more.

I stood alone on the broken span, chest heaving, the relic humming softly in my hand.

Victory.

But not without cost.

The Empire would not stop.

This was only the first wave.

And worse — something about this ruined city unsettled even them.

Something deeper than relics or forgotten magic.

I made my way carefully down the remains of the bridge, finding a path that led deeper into the ruins. The landscape grew stranger with every step — the ruins more alien, the carvings on the broken stones less human.

Twisting symbols.

Impossible geometries.

Things no hand should have made.

The relic grew heavier, as if resisting.

Ahead, the city's heart rose into view — a vast plaza surrounded by towering monoliths, each one pulsing faintly with buried power.

At the center stood the Seal.

A pillar of crystal, black as a starless night, bound in chains of silver that floated in the air without touch.

The shard in my hand flared, resonating with the Seal's presence.

This was it.

The first threshold.

The path to answers.

Or the gateway to my undoing.

I stepped into the plaza.

The air thickened, each breath a struggle.

Whispers clawed at the edges of my mind — voices speaking in tongues older than language.

My vision wavered.

A figure stood at the base of the Seal.

A woman — or something that wore the shape of one.

Eyes burning silver. Skin stitched with veins of molten light. A crown of jagged bone rested upon her brow.

She smiled, and the ground cracked beneath her feet.

"Welcome, Warden," she said, her voice echoing in my very soul.

"Come claim your destiny."