The Vail of Ashenfall

Eryndor's grip tightened around his sword as the red eyes flickered to life within the mist. The thing inside the relic didn't move right away—it just watched, unblinking, as if weighing its options.

Kaelith took a step closer to him, her dagger trembling slightly in her hand. "I really hate ancient things that stare like that," she muttered.

Eryndor didn't respond. His cursed arm pulsed with heat, and he could feel the magic in the air growing heavier, pressing down on them like a storm about to break.

The King's Blade standing across from them lowered his weapon slightly. "Stand down," he ordered, though his voice lacked its earlier confidence. "We can still contain it."

Eryndor glanced at the man, then back at the swirling mist. "Contain it?" he asked. "It doesn't look like it wants to be contained."

As if to confirm his words, the mist shifted. Slowly, the figure within the fog began to take shape—a humanoid outline wrapped in tattered black cloth. Its eyes burned like coals, and where its hands should have been, there were jagged claws of glinting obsidian.

Kaelith swallowed. "Eryndor, that's not a relic guardian… that's a wraith."

Eryndor's jaw tightened. "Great."

The wraith stepped forward, mist curling around its feet as it floated above the ground. It tilted its head, the motion unnaturally smooth. A faint, raspy voice echoed through the clearing.

"Who breaks the seal… and disturbs my rest?"

Eryndor raised his sword slightly, not in aggression but caution. "Didn't mean to disturb you. But since you're up, maybe you could go back to sleep?"

Kaelith shot him a glare. "Don't joke with it."

The wraith's red eyes narrowed.

"I remember you… Flamebearer."

Eryndor's heart skipped. His cursed arm flared brighter, as if in response to the creature's words.

Kaelith's gaze darted between him and the wraith. "Wait… it knows you?"

"I don't know why," Eryndor replied quietly.

The wraith's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before turning to the King's Blades.

"And you… still serve the crown that betrayed me."

The lead Blade visibly stiffened. "Betrayed? We don't even know who you are."

The wraith's form began to shift, the mist thickening around its body. Its voice grew colder.

"Then let me remind you."

Before anyone could react, the wraith lashed out. A tendril of shadow shot forward, slamming into the lead Blade's chest and lifting him off the ground. His sword clattered to the dirt as the wraith's claws wrapped around his armor.

Kaelith stepped forward, but Eryndor held up a hand to stop her.

"Wait," he said.

The wraith didn't kill the Blade—not immediately. It lowered him slowly to the ground, leaning in close until their faces were inches apart.

"Run," the wraith whispered.

The Blade's eyes widened in terror. Without hesitation, he stumbled back, gasping as he fled into the trees. The remaining Blades hesitated only a second longer before following him, disappearing into the dark.

Kaelith exhaled slowly. "Well… that's one way to clear the field."

Eryndor lowered his sword but didn't relax. The wraith's gaze returned to him, its eyes burning with something between curiosity and recognition.

"Flamebearer," the wraith said again. "Your curse still lingers. I will not harm you… but the veil is breaking. Soon, others will come. Stronger than I."

Eryndor narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by 'others'?"

The wraith didn't answer. It simply began to dissolve, fading back into the mist. As the last traces of it vanished, the clearing fell silent once more.

Kaelith turned to Eryndor, arms crossed. "So… that happened. What's a 'Flamebearer,' and why is an ancient wraith calling you one?"

Eryndor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm asking."

He sheathed his sword and started walking toward the shattered remains of the relic. "I'll explain on the way."

"To where?"

Eryndor glanced back at her, eyes grim.

"The capital," he said. "Whatever's coming… we're going to need answers."