The fog thickened as they pressed deeper into the Vale, swallowing light and sound. Behind them, the corpse of the Vale Warden still smoked, its twisted limbs twitching in a grotesque parody of life. But Darian didn't look back. He couldn't. Not after what he had done.
The Shard of Devourance pulsed in his chest, a silent drumbeat that echoed through his bones. He could feel it now—not just in his blood, but in his thoughts. Every step he took felt heavier, like gravity itself was shifting around him. His mind pulsed with flickers of voices not his own. Ancient. Endless.
"You shouldn't have done that," Kael said, staggering beside him. His face was pale, bruised, but his eyes burned with anger. "You don't even know what that thing's doing to you."
"I know," Darian said, his voice low. "But it gave us the strength to win."
Kael grabbed his arm. "At what cost?"
Elira stepped between them. "Enough. We don't have time to argue."
