The fire hissed low, sparks crawling like restless ghosts into a sky holding its breath. Verek sat close, eyes fixed on the flickering glow, feeling the weight of the valley folding away into shadows—buried beneath cold earth and forgotten, yet still there, waiting. The damp moss and scorched wood hung thick in the air, mixed with that faint copper tang of old blood stubbornly clinging beneath their nails. It was a silence that clawed at skin and nerves, as if the world itself leaned in too close, listening too hard.
Ahead, the road curled east again, slipping behind a clutch of gnarled trees tangled tight and dark. Phokorus waited there, its towers scraping the low clouds like desperate fingers. Stone and glass caught what little light remained, humming with raw arcane energy—the heart of Queen Kaelith Serpantwind's domain. Beneath the city's bones, leylines pulsed restless and ancient, tangled in a weave they all knew was dangerous. The next shard lay somewhere deep within that web.
They had only one fragment—the red shard.
Verek's fingers brushed the pack at his side, where the blistered fragment throbbed cold, alive in its own cruel way. Every time it pressed against his skin, it was a reminder carved sharp and clear—this wasn't some story they could walk away from. The game was no longer a distant rumor or whispered fear. It had started, dragging them into its teeth. They weren't on the sidelines anymore. They were caught in the middle, and the price was steep.
Ezreal slid the enchanted map beneath his belt. To anyone else, it looked like a worn, cracked letter—edges curled, ink smudged and faded by time and dirt. But to them, it shimmered and shifted, revealing only the nearest shard, locking the rest away like a secret. The magic was tight, sealed against prying eyes.
Dax broke the heavy silence, his voice tight like a bowstring stretched too thin. "That convergence spot isn't some simple crossroads. Leylines twist beneath us like tangled roots, bleeding magic into the earth. Whoever laid this trap—they're weaving something fierce, something sharp."
Verek watched Caylen's jaw clamp tight, like it might shatter under the pressure. His eyes darkened with a furious quiet. "If it's weaving, it ain't a blanket. It's a noose. And it's pulling tight around our necks."
Verek felt the truth of it settle heavy in his chest, a cold stone pressing down. He stared into the fire's last flicker, shadows slicing across the faces around him like cracked glass. "We've got the pieces now," he said, voice low but steady, his presence folding into the quiet like a steady hand on the reins. "The game's been running a while. But the cards? They're in our hands. From here on, we're the ones making the rules."
The fire jumped suddenly, then shrank back, night thick and almost alive wrapping around them. The leylines hummed beneath their feet, a buried pulse like a heartbeat. The road ahead wasn't a simple path—it was a test. Not just of sword and muscle, but of will. Who could stand steady when everything else was falling apart?
Verek's jaw tightened, feeling the weight of that challenge settle across his shoulders. They'd face whatever came next. Together.
Morning came sharp and cold, the wind slicing through trees like a dull blade. The group moved fast, restless hands packing gear with the urgency of those who knew time was bleeding away. Verek wrapped the red shard tight in rough cloth, tucking it close like a heart beneath his armor, close enough to feel its cold pulse through the fabric.
Ezreal drew the map back out, the parchment glowing faintly with pale otherworldly light. The spot ahead blinked crimson—a beacon marking the next shard, buried deeper inside Phokorus's tangled web of leylines.
"Only four left," Ezreal muttered, voice ragged and worn, like a man who hadn't slept in days. "We find them all, maybe we have a chance to stop whatever this is."
Dax nodded grimly. "If we don't, this world's going to tear itself apart. The pieces don't lie. Everything's coming undone."
Verek's eyes flicked toward the looming city, its towers stabbing at low clouds like needles stuck in gray cloth. This wasn't just the capital. It was the heart of arcane knowledge, where law and magic twisted tight, choking the walls like strangling vines.
The gates stood tall, guarded by paladins whose armor flickered with cold starlight. Their faces were carved stone, eyes sharp and unblinking as they took in the group. Word of their coming spread fast through the city's veins, whispers racing ahead.
Soon, they stood before Queen Kaelith Serpantwind.
Kaelith moved with a weight that was both a burden and a crown. Silver braids framed skin that seemed to glow faintly, a quiet fire burning beneath calm eyes. Her armor hummed with divine power, her gaze steady and sharp—the kind of intelligence born from wrestling chaos and pulling something real from it.
"You carry a shard," Kaelith said, voice steady, hard with command. "And you come with questions. Speak clearly."
Verek stepped forward, the weight of his presence steadying the room. Though it was Ezreal who spoke, Verek's eyes never left the queen's. His voice was quiet but sure beneath Ezreal's words. When Ezreal said, "We think someone's gathering these shards to stitch something dangerous back into the world. The leyline convergence feels like the center of it," Verek's grip tightened on his cloak's edge—ready to follow through whatever came next.
Kaelith's eyes flicked to the map in Ezreal's hands, then back, sharp as a blade. "The leylines pulse with power older than memory. The shards are fragments of gods, locked away long ago—pieces of their strength scattered and chained to keep them bound."
"Bound," Dax echoed, voice grim as a tombstone. "And someone wants to break those chains."
Kaelith's gaze sharpened but carried a flicker of respect. "Then you're standing on the edge of a blade. If these shards fall to the wrong hands, the balance shatters."
"We need your help," Ezreal said, voice urgent but steady. Verek's gaze locked with Kaelith's, unflinching, silently adding weight to the plea.
The queen nodded once, sharp and sure. "You will not face this alone. But know this—the road ahead demands more than courage. It will test your trust, your strength, even your souls."
No words were needed between them. They knew what was coming. They had the first shard. Nine more to find. Nine more dangers waiting, each tightening the thread of fate around them.
That night, they stayed in Kaelith's chambers. The room glowed faintly with enchanted lanterns pulsing in time with the city's heartbeat. Maps and ancient tomes lay spread over heavy wooden tables, runes flickering softly on their edges. Kaelith poured over the details, voice steady and sure as she explained what she knew.
"The leyline convergence is no simple place," she said, finger tracing the map that flickered beneath her touch. "It's where several powerful leylines meet—streams of raw magic running deep beneath Phokorus. Wild, unpredictable, and dangerous."
Verek leaned in alongside the others, eyes locked on the twisting lines. When Ezreal asked, "The shards we're finding—are they tied to these leylines?" Verek's gaze sharpened, the stakes sinking in deeper.
Kaelith nodded. "Each shard pulses with its line's magic. Pieces of divine power, remnants of gods locked away long ago. Whoever is gathering them wants to unlock something old and terrible."
Dax's fists clenched tight at his sides. "We've seen what happens when that kind of power gets loose."
"Phokorus stands on a knife's edge," Kaelith said. "Its magic is ancient but fragile. If the balance breaks, the whole realm unravels."
Verek's eyes stayed fixed on the map, the weight of their task settling into his bones. "We have to find those shards before whoever is behind this finishes their plan."
Kaelith nodded, jaw set hard. "You'll go to the heart of it. The next shard is buried deep in the convergence itself. The magic there twists and bites. You have to be ready for everything."
The room shrank suddenly under the weight of what was coming. None of them flinched.
"We're ready," Ezreal said, voice rough but certain. Verek's steady presence behind him was a quiet promise that no matter what, they wouldn't fall apart.
Kaelith's gaze softened just a bit. "Good. Because you won't get a second chance."
Next morning, they left Phokorus behind. The map pulsed faintly at Ezreal's belt, glowing like a warning. The road ahead was jagged, tangled with roots and broken stone, air thick with magic that raised the hairs on the back of their necks.
Step by slow step, Verek led the way, every movement careful, every breath measured. The world felt tighter here, like the magic below watched, waiting for a single wrong move.
The enchanted map flickered crimson, marking the way forward. The shard waited in the heart of the convergence—but so did whatever else had been unleashed by the game they'd stepped into.
This wasn't just a test of sword or muscle anymore. It was a test of mind and soul.
Verek squared his shoulders as the shadow of the convergence rose before them, tangled and wild. No turning back.
The game had started for real.
They were the ones who had to write the rules.