---
The cold wasn't physical. It didn't creep into the bones—it sank straight into the soul.
Riven stood at the edge of the trees, arms crossed, his cloak barely shifting in the wind. The sky was heavy above the mountains, bloated with clouds that looked like cracked slate. Ahead, the spires of Ashlock twisted upward, jagged towers of black stone wrapped in gray mist, as if the land itself tried to choke them into silence.
No birds. No wind. No sound. Just the stillness of something ancient waiting to be remembered.
Behind him, the others gathered slowly.
Kael was the first to break the silence. "So that's Ashlock." He gave a low whistle. "Cozy. Just needs a welcome mat and some grave markers."
Riven didn't respond. He kept his eyes forward.
Kael stepped up beside him, gaze narrowed. "You feel it too, right? That pull in your gut, like something wants us dead before we even step inside?"
"It's not fear," Riven said quietly. "It's... recognition."
Kael looked at him sideways. "That better not be your Seal whispering creepy bedtime stories again."
"It's not the Seal." Riven's voice was calm, but his fingers flexed at his sides. "It's something older."
Behind them, Liora approached, supporting Lyssa, who looked even paler than before. The faint shimmer of the Fifth Seal still lingered on her brow, flickering like a candle struggling against the wind.
"We should rest before we move in," Liora said softly, glancing at Lyssa. "She hasn't recovered."
"I'm fine," Lyssa murmured, but the way she swayed said otherwise.
"You're not." Riven turned finally, voice firmer now. "The last battle nearly took your soul with it. We don't rush into this."
Lyssa met his gaze, stubborn as always. "We don't have time. You said the Order's already inside."
"I said they were headed here," Riven corrected. "If they're smart, they won't enter until nightfall. That gives us a window."
Kael snorted. "Right. Because evil cults always follow proper scheduling."
"No, but they follow patterns," Riven said. "They always move under darkness. Fear thrives there."
Liora looked toward the twisted towers in the distance. "Then what's our plan?"
Riven paused. The wind picked up faintly, carrying the scent of ash and old stone. The kind of smell that belonged to forgotten ruins and cursed places.
"We go in before they do. But not blind."
Kael crossed his arms. "You sure about this? We're down one fighter, and last I checked, Ashlock isn't exactly famous for its hospitality."
"I'm not asking anyone to follow me," Riven said. "But I'm going."
"You never ask," Kael muttered. "You just walk into the fire and hope we're too loyal to let you burn alone."
Riven didn't argue. Because it was true.
He turned back toward the mountains, his gaze narrowing. Somewhere inside Ashlock's heart, something called to him. Not the Seal. Not the magic. Something older. Something buried.
Veyron's voice stirred in the back of his mind, silk-smooth and smug.
Ah... the Ashlock. You always had a flair for dramatics, little prince. Do you remember it yet? The fire? The screaming?
Riven stiffened.
No? Still locked away, hmm? Don't worry. Ashlock remembers you well enough for the both of us.
He shoved the voice aside. Not now. Not with Lyssa barely standing and Kael's temper already frayed.
They set up a quick camp in the underbrush—hidden, silent. Kael volunteered to scout the perimeter. Liora prepared healing tonics. Riven sat beside the dying embers of a small fire, sharpening his blade with practiced strokes that no longer soothed him.
Lyssa sat across from him, legs curled beneath her. Her voice broke the silence.
"You've changed."
Riven paused. "Since when?"
"Since the last Seal. Since you looked at me and didn't flinch when I nearly shattered everything."
"I didn't flinch," he said softly. "Because I knew it wasn't you."
Lyssa looked down at her hands. "What if it was?"
He didn't answer right away. The wind shifted. In the distance, a crow cried once—then silence.
Finally, he said, "We're not the same people we were when we left the Sanctum. And we won't be the same after this."
Lyssa's lips pressed into a thin line. "What are we becoming?"
Riven didn't say we. He only thought I don't know.
Kael returned near dusk, brushing ash from his cloak. "Found tracks. They're inside. Four, maybe five men. Same robes."
"The Order," Riven muttered.
"They didn't cover their trail," Kael said. "Either they're arrogant, or they want us to follow."
Riven rose, sheathing his blade. "Doesn't matter. We go at moonrise."
Kael raised a brow. "And if it's a trap?"
Riven's eyes narrowed toward the dark towers. "Then let them find out what a trap feels like from the other side."
---
Nightfall.
They moved through the mountain pass like shadows—silent, coordinated. No torches. No sound. Just the wind whispering around broken stone.
Ashlock loomed before them, ancient and jagged. Its black towers were carved from obsidian, glassy and sharp, like the bones of something long-dead and angry.
Inside, it was worse.
The air was dry, thick with old magic. Runes covered the walls, faintly glowing beneath centuries of dust. The halls echoed with things unseen.
Kael muttered under his breath, "I hate ruins. Every hallway feels like it's watching us."
Liora touched the stone beside her. "It is."
They found the bodies in the outer chamber.
Three Eclipse Order members—throats slashed, eyes wide in shock. Blood had pooled but not dried, which meant it had happened recently.
Riven knelt beside one, examining the markings carved into the corpse's chest. Not a ritual. A warning.
"We're not alone in here," he said.
Lyssa's hand went to her blade. "More of the Order?"
"No." Riven looked deeper into the hall. The shadows stirred unnaturally. "Something else."
The deeper they moved, the colder it became—not physically, but spiritually. The Seals pulsed faintly against their skin, responding to something buried beneath the stone.
And then they reached it.
A chamber of black crystal, spiraling pillars, and a dais in the center. Upon it sat a statue—half broken, yet still radiating power.
It was a figure in armor. Crowned. Familiar.
Riven froze.
Kael stepped forward. "Riven?"
But Riven didn't hear him.
The voice returned.
You died here once, remember? Ashlock was your tomb before it was ever your legend.
Riven's hands trembled.
He took a step closer to the statue. Something flickered in his mind—flames, screams, a child's voice calling out in fear. A woman crying. A name shouted.
He staggered back.
Veyron laughed, dark and gleeful.
Now we're getting somewhere, little heir.
Riven turned, eyes burning. "This place is a key."
"To what?" Lyssa asked.
He looked back at the statue. "To everything."
---