The Vail of Ashenfall

The clash of steel rang through Emberpeak's frozen halls as Eryndor met the warden's strike head-on. Sparks scattered across the stone floor, the force of the blow driving him back a step. The warden's jagged blade pressed down, molten heat radiating from the weapon's surface.

Eryndor gritted his teeth, his cursed arm burning brighter in response. With a surge of strength, he twisted his sword, forcing the warden's blade aside.

Kaelith darted around the edge of the fight, her dagger glinting in the dim light. She lunged at the warden's exposed flank, but before her blade could strike, the warden raised his gauntlet. A blast of searing heat erupted outward, forcing her to retreat.

Kaelith cursed, stumbling back. "This guy isn't playing fair."

Eryndor kept his focus on the warden. "He's not supposed to."

The warden straightened, his crimson eyes locking onto Eryndor. "Your fire answers to the relic," he said, his voice low and resonant. "But the flame you bear is incomplete. You cannot stop what lies beneath Emberpeak."

Eryndor's grip on his sword tightened. "I've stopped worse."

The warden said nothing, but Eryndor could feel the weight of his gaze—the cold judgment of something ancient, bound to the fortress long before the first stone of Ashenfall was laid.

The warden raised his blade once more, and the temperature in the hall dropped. Frost crept along the stone as embers flickered to life beneath the warden's boots, circling outward like smoldering chains.

Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "Eryndor, whatever he's doing… stop him. Fast."

Eryndor didn't need to be told twice. He surged forward, blue fire trailing behind his sword. The warden met him halfway, their blades colliding in a shower of sparks.

Eryndor ducked beneath the warden's next swing, driving his shoulder into the armored figure's chest. The warden staggered, but before Eryndor could press the advantage, the warden's gauntlet shot out, gripping Eryndor's cursed arm.

Heat flooded through Eryndor's veins, and for a brief moment, he saw flashes—visions of Emberpeak as it once was. Fire. Screaming. A great dragon, its wings spread wide, coiled around the fortress spire.

The vision passed as quickly as it came, but the weight of it lingered.

"You cannot contain the dragon's fire," the warden said softly. "It will consume you."

Eryndor's cursed arm flared brighter, and with a burst of strength, he tore free from the warden's grip. Flames cascaded down his blade as he struck again, this time driving the sword deep into the warden's chest.

The warden froze, his crimson eyes dimming. For a long moment, silence filled the hall. Then the warden slowly stepped back, Eryndor's sword still embedded in his armor.

Kaelith approached cautiously, her dagger raised. "Is he… dead?"

Eryndor pulled his blade free, watching as the warden dropped to one knee. The molten glow beneath his armor flickered, growing faint.

"The fire is yours… for now," the warden said, his voice little more than a whisper. "But know this—when the dragon wakes, no blade will save you."

With that, the warden's form crumbled into ash, leaving nothing behind but the faint glimmer of embers on the stone floor.

Kaelith exhaled. "I'm going to pretend he didn't just say that."

Eryndor knelt beside the altar, reaching for the relic. The moment his fingers brushed against its surface, the runes along the stone flared to life. Blue fire coursed through the markings, and the relic lifted slightly into the air.

Kaelith took a step back. "Uh… Eryndor?"

The relic pulsed once, then fell silent, settling into Eryndor's palm.

He rose slowly, tucking the relic into his pack alongside the first. The weight of it felt heavier than the last, as if something deep beneath Emberpeak had shifted.

Kaelith crossed her arms. "Alright, we've got the relic. Can we leave before more ancient guardians show up?"

Eryndor nodded, leading the way toward the entrance.

As they crossed the threshold into the mountain air, Kaelith glanced at him. "So, what now?"

Eryndor tightened the strap of his pack, his eyes lingering on the snow-covered peaks in the distance.

"Now," he said quietly, "we head north."

Kaelith sighed. "Of course we do."

The wind howled through the mountains as they descended, but Eryndor's thoughts remained on the warden's final words.

The dragon will wake.

And when it did, Eryndor knew the fire in his arm might not be enough to stop it.