The Vail of Ashenfall

The cold didn't bother Eryndor as much as the feeling of being watched. Each step they took along the narrow ridge was shadowed by something just out of sight—silent, patient, as if waiting for the right moment to strike.

Kaelith, however, wasn't as calm. She rubbed her arms for warmth, muttering under her breath. "I swear something's following us. I can feel it."

"You're not wrong," Eryndor replied, his cursed arm pulsing faintly beneath his cloak. The fire coiling around his wrist burned low, like a candle in the wind.

Kaelith glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. "You know, most people would turn back after fighting shadow monsters on a frozen mountain."

"We're not most people."

Kaelith snorted. "Clearly."

As they reached the edge of the ridge, the path dipped into a dense forest of frost-covered pines. The wind howled softly through the trees, carrying with it the faint hum of distant magic—old and broken, yet still lingering.

Eryndor stopped, scanning the treeline ahead.

Kaelith noticed and frowned. "What is it now?"

"There's a ruin nearby," he said quietly. "I can feel the relic reacting to it."

Kaelith groaned. "Great. More ancient, cursed places to explore."

Eryndor smirked faintly. "It's why you stick around, isn't it?"

She jabbed him lightly in the side. "No. I stick around because you'd probably get yourself killed if I left you alone."

The two descended into the forest, moving carefully over the snow-laden ground. The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. It wasn't just the cold—the relic was responding to something.

Kaelith slowed, drawing her dagger. "This place feels wrong."

Eryndor nodded. "Stay close."

As they weaved between the trees, a clearing opened before them. At the center stood the remnants of an ancient tower—its upper levels collapsed, and its base overgrown with frost and ivy. The stone was blackened, scorched by fire long ago.

Kaelith whistled softly. "Another ruin. I'm sensing a pattern."

Eryndor stepped forward, but the moment his foot crossed the threshold of the clearing, the relic in his pack flared.

Kaelith tensed. "That's not normal."

Eryndor slowly withdrew the relic, holding it in his gloved hand. The runes along its surface glowed faintly, pulsing in sync with his cursed arm.

Then—the air shifted.

From the treeline, red eyes blinked open. One by one, shapes began to emerge, their forms tall and wrapped in dark cloaks. They didn't attack. They simply watched.

Kaelith tightened her grip on her dagger. "Eryndor… there are five of them."

"I see them."

The closest figure stepped forward, lowering their hood. Their face was pale, almost lifeless, and their eyes burned with crimson light—just like the warden's.

"Flamebearer," the figure said softly. "You've walked too far into the dark."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed brighter, flames licking up to his elbow. "I'm not turning back."

The figure's gaze dropped to the relic in Eryndor's hand.

"The fire you carry is not yours to wield. Give it to us… and the shadows will not follow you."

Kaelith scoffed, stepping beside Eryndor. "Yeah, that sounds convincing."

Eryndor's grip tightened around the relic. "Not happening."

The figure's expression didn't change, but the air grew colder. "Then we take it by force."

Without warning, the cloaked figures surged forward.

Kaelith reacted first, slashing at the nearest one. Her dagger sparked against their cloak, but the blade passed through, as if striking smoke.

Eryndor's sword flared to life, blue fire erupting along the edge as he met the attack head-on. His blade clashed with the leading figure's staff, sending a shockwave of light rippling through the clearing.

The shadows hissed, recoiling from the flames, but they didn't retreat.

Kaelith danced between them, striking fast and hard, but the cloaked figures barely flinched. "These things don't die easy!"

"They're not supposed to," Eryndor muttered, knocking one aside with a burst of flame.

The lead figure circled behind him, striking low. Eryndor blocked the blow, but the force sent him sliding backward.

"You cannot outrun the dark," the figure whispered. "It will consume you."

Eryndor's cursed arm pulsed wildly now, the blue flames raging hotter than before. He could feel the relic's power responding, as if trying to break free of his grasp.

Kaelith kicked one of the shadows aside, eyes flashing with frustration. "Whatever you're planning, Eryndor, do it fast!"

Eryndor lowered his sword, focusing on the relic. The fire within it flickered, fragile yet bright.

He closed his eyes, letting the cursed flame surge through him. The clearing burned with blue light as his sword ignited fully, the flames stretching outward in a wide arc.

The cloaked figures faltered, their forms unraveling in the light. One by one, they faded into the shadows, their crimson eyes vanishing into the dark.

Kaelith exhaled, lowering her dagger. "Well… that worked."

Eryndor tucked the relic back into his pack, the flames along his arm slowly dimming. "For now."

Kaelith shot him a look. "You know they'll be back."

"I know."

As they turned to leave the clearing, Kaelith paused, glancing at the remnants of the ruined tower. "Who were they, anyway?"

Eryndor's eyes lingered on the spot where the lead figure had stood.

"Keepers of the veil," he said quietly. "Or what's left of them."

Kaelith frowned. "And they're after the relics?"

Eryndor nodded. "They think the fire shouldn't exist. That it should burn out with the veil."

Kaelith adjusted her cloak. "Well, that's reassuring."

Eryndor started walking. "Come on. We still have two relics to find."

Kaelith fell in step beside him, glancing back at the shadows one last time.

The fire wasn't just a key.

It was a beacon—and the darkness was still following.