The Ruined Path

Chapter Sixteen: The Ruined Path

The road to the Ruined Lands was not on any map.

Not anymore.

Once, it had been a paved highway connecting the southern provinces to the capital, lined with flameposts and guarded by Phoenix Sentinels. Now it lay overgrown and forgotten, swallowed by the creeping roots of the Wyrmwood Forest and veiled by a constant mist.

Nyra rode at the front of a small scouting company—Kael at her side, Estra trailing behind them with three seasoned warriors. Each of them carried enchanted blades or relics recovered from the old vaults. The Emberblade pulsed faintly at Nyra's back, but even its fire felt cautious here.

Nothing chirped. No insects buzzed. No birds called.

Only wind.

And that low, ever-present hum. Like the land itself was holding its breath.

Kael shifted in his saddle. "Still sure this is a good idea?"

"No," Nyra said honestly. "But it's the only one we have."

Their destination lay two days east: Vire Hollow—a village that hadn't been inhabited in over seventy years.

According to palace records, it had been the site of one of the Hollow Queen's earliest rituals. Something had gone wrong, and the village was... erased. No survivors. No bodies. Just silence.

But two days ago, a merchant caravan swore they saw torches burning in Vire Hollow.

And worse—figures moving through the ruins.

Not aimlessly.

But marching.

That was enough for Nyra.

She wasn't going to wait for darkness to arrive on her doorstep again.

They made camp by an abandoned stone well at the edge of the Wyrmwood. The trees leaned unnaturally, their branches like reaching hands. Kael lit a fire using a spark crystal, but the flames were slow to catch, as if reluctant to burn here.

Estra chewed a dried fig and glanced at the forest. "The trees are listening."

"They remember," Nyra corrected.

One of the warriors, a broad-shouldered man named Tarek, grunted. "Trees don't remember."

Kael looked toward the mist. "These do. You just don't like what they say."

Nyra held out her palm. The violet flame-mark hadn't faded. In fact, the closer they drew to Vire Hollow, the more it throbbed—like it recognized something ahead.

Or someone.

That night, Nyra dreamt.

Of fire without warmth.

Of laughter beneath the ground.

Of the book opening itself again—its pages flipping faster and faster until they tore themselves free, swirling around her like ash. Then a voice, soft as snow:

You wear a crown that does not sleep. And beneath sleep… is hunger.

She woke gasping, drenched in sweat, her hand burning.

Kael was already at her side. "Another dream?"

She nodded, gripping his hand tightly. "But it felt like a message. Like something is reaching through me."

Kael looked toward the trees.

And for the first time since they'd met, Nyra saw fear in his eyes.

Not fear for himself.

But for her.

By the next morning, Vire Hollow lay just ahead.

What was once a thriving village had become a skeleton—crooked chimneys, rotting beams, wells clogged with black vines. The mist was thicker here, curling in unnatural patterns, and the air smelled faintly of iron.

Estra dismounted. "Looks like no one's lived here in decades."

Tarek squinted toward the village square. "Then what are those?"

They all turned.

At the far end of the village stood a procession.

Figures in long, dark robes, faces veiled, torches in hand. At least twenty of them. Each stood perfectly still, as though frozen in mid-step.

And at their head—a woman.

Tall. Unmoving.

Wearing a cloak of shadows that writhed like living ink.

Her face was not visible.

But Nyra knew.

She didn't need to see it.

It was her own.

Kael drew his sword. "Is this another illusion?"

"No," Nyra whispered. "It's worse. It's foreshadowing."

The woman stepped forward. The others bowed their heads.

When she spoke, her voice echoed from every direction.

"Daughter of Flame. You opened the gate. You cracked the seal. And now, we remember."

Kael shouted, "Who are you?"

The woman raised her head.

Eyes of burning violet.

"We are the Crown Below."

Nyra stepped forward. "What do you want?"

The shadows twisted around the woman. Her robes melted into smoke, revealing a second skin beneath—one made of scales, obsidian and gold.

"Not want. Need. The throne has sat empty for too long. Flame cannot rule what was built in shadow. But you, child... you are both."

The mark on Nyra's palm flared.

The woman extended her hand.

"Come. Wear the true crown. The one forged before the Phoenix ever burned."

Estra raised her blade. "We'll die before we let her take it."

The woman smiled.

"You already have."

She snapped her fingers.

The earth beneath their feet split.

Figures burst from the ground—not phantoms, not illusions, but bodies made of earth and blood and emberglass. Eyes stitched shut. Mouths sealed with gold thread. Living corpses of the forgotten.

They moved as one.

Kael roared, charging into the fray with Estra and Tarek behind him.

Nyra stood in the center of the square, the Emberblade blazing in her grip.

The woman in shadows didn't attack.

She waited.

Watched.

And whispered.

"Every fire dies eventually, Nyra. But shadow… lives on."

Nyra leapt forward and swung the blade toward her.

But the woman vanished.

Leaving only her voice behind.

"You will come to me. Because you are already wearing my mark."

They survived.

Barely.

The creatures crumbled once their queen vanished, but not before wounding two of their scouts. One lost a leg. The other—his mind. He screamed for hours before falling silent.

They burned what remained of the village and marked it on the map: Unclaimed. Unsafe.

Nyra stood at the edge of the flames as Vire Hollow collapsed for the second—and final—time.

"She wasn't trying to kill us," Kael said beside her.

"No," Nyra whispered. "She was introducing herself."

Estra shook her head. "So what now?"

Nyra looked down at her palm.

At the mark that no longer pulsed.

Now it glowed.

"She called herself the Crown Below," Nyra said. "And she's only one piece of it."

Kael stared into the smoke.

"You think there are others?"

Nyra's eyes narrowed.

"I know there are."