The sky over the Ruined Crescent bled with the color of dying embers, casting long, flickering shadows across the fractured monoliths that dotted the plateau. Jagged towers of black stone jutted out from the earth like the broken bones of titans, each one humming faintly with latent power. In the heart of the ruin stood Kael—cloak tattered, eyes lit by the eerie violet glow of his corrupted aura.
He knelt before a crumbling altar, fingers splayed over its ancient surface. The runes etched into the obsidian pulsed beneath his touch, reacting to his presence—not with reverence, but with recognition. This place knew him. Knew what he carried in his blood.
A voice stirred in the stone, deep and cold.
"You bear the mark of Eldrath. What right have you to awaken its power?"
Kael didn't flinch. "I am the last scion of its legacy. I was forged in its fire, and I demand what is mine."
The wind whipped through the ruins, carrying whispers from another age. Kael closed his eyes. Memories surged—of a fortress long gone, of warriors clad in spectral armor, of his father's voice warning him never to tread this path. And above all, the name: Eldrath. Once a bastion of balance. Now a forgotten empire, corrupted from within and erased from history by the very Beasts that swore to protect it.
Kael stood slowly. "You call it power. I call it debt. The world owes me for what it stole."
His fingers traced a crack in the altar. He could feel it now—the stirrings of an ancient force deeper beneath the stone, like a heart still beating beneath the grave.
Behind him, a figure emerged from the gloom. Dressed in flowing robes and wearing a mask of bleached bone, the emissary of the Abyss bowed low.
"My lord Kael. The Spire of Mourning has fallen. Ashen and the girl now possess the third Shrine's essence."
Kael turned, eyes narrowing. "And yet they still live?"
"They fought with desperation. The Flame-Bearer has grown strong."
"Good," Kael murmured. "Let him grow. Let his fire reach the heavens."
The emissary tilted his head. "You do not fear his rise?"
Kael chuckled, dark and low. "Fear? No. He is walking the path I walked years ago. The fire may burn bright, but even flame needs fuel. And I know how to starve it."
He turned back to the altar and slammed his palm into the center rune. The ground shook violently. Cracks spiderwebbed outward. From the depths, a pillar of violet light erupted, laced with tendrils of black mana. The altar split open, revealing a core crystal—alive with writhing energy.
The emissary flinched. "You would awaken it?"
"I must. The Heart of Eldrath isn't just a relic. It's the soul of a forgotten god. And I will wield it."
He reached into the light—and the crystal did not resist. It surged into his chest, merging with his core, embedding its legacy into every fiber of his being.
Kael's eyes flared with violet fire.
And far away, Ashen staggered—feeling the ripple across the ley lines of mana.
Kael smiled.
"The game changes now."The sky over the Ruined Crescent bled with the color of dying embers, casting long, flickering shadows across the fractured monoliths that dotted the plateau. Jagged towers of black stone jutted out from the earth like the broken bones of titans, each one humming faintly with latent power. In the heart of the ruin stood Kael—cloak tattered, eyes lit by the eerie violet glow of his corrupted aura.
He knelt before a crumbling altar, fingers splayed over its ancient surface. The runes etched into the obsidian pulsed beneath his touch, reacting to his presence—not with reverence, but with recognition. This place knew him. Knew what he carried in his blood.
A voice stirred in the stone, deep and cold.
"You bear the mark of Eldrath. What right have you to awaken its power?"
Kael didn't flinch. "I am the last scion of its legacy. I was forged in its fire, and I demand what is mine."
The wind whipped through the ruins, carrying whispers from another age. Kael closed his eyes. Memories surged—of a fortress long gone, of warriors clad in spectral armor, of his father's voice warning him never to tread this path. And above all, the name: Eldrath. Once a bastion of balance. Now a forgotten empire, corrupted from within and erased from history by the very Beasts that swore to protect it.
Kael stood slowly. "You call it power. I call it debt. The world owes me for what it stole."
His fingers traced a crack in the altar. He could feel it now—the stirrings of an ancient force deeper beneath the stone, like a heart still beating beneath the grave.
Behind him, a figure emerged from the gloom. Dressed in flowing robes and wearing a mask of bleached bone, the emissary of the Abyss bowed low.
"My lord Kael. The Spire of Mourning has fallen. Ashen and the girl now possess the third Shrine's essence."
Kael turned, eyes narrowing. "And yet they still live?"
"They fought with desperation. The Flame-Bearer has grown strong."
"Good," Kael murmured. "Let him grow. Let his fire reach the heavens."
The emissary tilted his head. "You do not fear his rise?"
Kael chuckled, dark and low. "Fear? No. He is walking the path I walked years ago. The fire may burn bright, but even flame needs fuel. And I know how to starve it."
He turned back to the altar and slammed his palm into the center rune. The ground shook violently. Cracks spiderwebbed outward. From the depths, a pillar of violet light erupted, laced with tendrils of black mana. The altar split open, revealing a core crystal—alive with writhing energy.
The emissary flinched. "You would awaken it?"
"I must. The Heart of Eldrath isn't just a relic. It's the soul of a forgotten god. And I will wield it."
He reached into the light—and the crystal did not resist. It surged into his chest, merging with his core, embedding its legacy into every fiber of his being.
Kael's eyes flared with violet fire.
And far away, Ashen staggered—feeling the ripple across the ley lines of mana.
Kael smiled.
"The game changes now."