The Cradle of Withering stood taller than the clouds, its peaks piercing through the black storm that enveloped the entire sky of the Grieving Lands. The hall's ceilings reached the height of hills, hinting at the terrifying creatures that once dwelled within.
The corpses of the Ashborn littered every corner of the floor. Some were decapitated and violently hacked apart with raw power, others killed with a single, precise strike to their cores. Those valuable crystals were left unclaimed by the two hunters who passed by, they weren't here for trade or commerce.
They were predators, wiping out all their prey.
A pile of such prey moved.
One Ashborn crawled out from underneath, having survived in the hunters' hurry. It had hidden beneath the corpses of its brethren, barely avoiding the gaze of the angry assassin. It struggled to stand, its ashen body creaking and cracking. It hadn't been struck directly but merely being too close to the bright flames had reduced it to this state.
The creature searched for the hunters' scent, desperate to escape it went the opposite direction. The halls were shrouded in deathly silence, consistently broken by the deep shock waves thundering down from the highest floor. The ground trembled. Pillars cracked. The ceiling groaned.
Another pile of Ashborn corpses met the dying creature—this one the work of the brilliant knight. All the cores remained pristine, glistening under the flickering blue fires lighting the halls.
The pitiful monster scrambled toward the glimmering pile and began devouring them, starting with the largest, those tinged a dark crimson. It needed to heal. It needed power.
The shock waves grew stronger. More frequent. The grand castle's supports began to fail. With each pillar that crumbled, the ceiling's fractures deepened. But the Ashborn didn't care.
The only thing on its mind was to devour.
A part of the ceiling fell.
And the last of the Ashborn inside the castle was dead.
***
"This isn't working, Arlen!" yelled Cael as his dagger passed straight through the terrifying shadow towering above him.
The nimble assassin leapt back and sheathed his daggers, turning a furious gaze toward his companion.
Arlen unsheathed his sword in a blur, slashing the oncoming tentacles with a seamless motion. The severed limbs sizzled in white flame, and an angry roar shook the entire castle.
"It's as we thought," the brilliant knight said calmly. "The only thing that can damage it is the holy sword and my flames."
Cael muttered curses under his breath. He slung his bow from his back and readied an arrow, aiming it at the heart of the shadow.
"Enhance my arrows with your flames, then."
"You're ordering me around now?" the Hero retorted.
"Just do it, dumbass."
With a smirk, Arlen raised his left arm. Radiant white flame burst from the stone below and curled around Cael's arrow. Without waiting, Cael released it—then immediately reached for the next.
No further words were needed. They both knew what they had to do.
It was time to give it everything.
Arlen shifted his stance. His body leaned forward, sword raised and aligned perfectly beside his face. The more he focused, the brighter he burned. With a single push of his right foot, he vanished from view and reappeared within striking distance of the abomination.
The shadow recoiled from the light, dissipating in fear. Arlen didn't stop. He flipped his sword in his hand and drove it into the ground with overwhelming force. Flames burst from the cracks in the ancient stone.
The Worldwound howled.
Its core burned. Its limbs were pierced by golden-tipped arrows. It had been backed into a corner—and it knew it. The devious shadow had one trick left.
The chamber filled with The Hero's flame.
Cael was forced to climb one of the pillars to stay above it. The Sun's flames didn't harm the Hero, so Arlen didn't hold back. He'd burn the entire castle down if needed.
But something was wrong.
The white embers turned black at the edges.
And Arlen felt the heat.
Cael's eyes widened. "Get out of the fire, Arlen!"
But it was too late.
The chamber exploded with heat. All the flames turned a cursed black. Even Cael—perched near the ceiling—was burned. His armor wasn't heavy enough to block it; his strategy had always relied on never being hit.
As he fell from the pillar, he caught a glimpse of Arlen.
The Hero drove his golden sword deep into the Worldwound's core.
With a final twist—
The world turned white with brilliance.
***
Cael's vision slowly returned. Pain flooded every nerve, his eyes burned. Yet he forced himself to stand and searched for the Hero.
The chamber was in ruins. The ceiling was gone, as was the Worldwound. Only a small section of the floor remained intact—where Cael had landed.
To his side stood Arlen, a ray of sunlight making his armor gleam more brilliantly than ever before.
"You beat it…" Cael said hoarsely. "You actually got rid of the Worldwound, Arlen…"
He wasn't surprised. Arlen could always do it.
Still, something felt off.
"Why are you just standing there? What, basking in the glory or whatever the Heroes do?" Cael stepped forward, reaching to pat his friend's shoulder.
Before his hand could reach—
Arlen fell forward.
"Arlen?!"
The Hero's body hit the floor with a thud.
"H-Hey, Arlen!" Panic set in. Cael rushed to his side, ignoring the pain. He turned Arlen's body and removed his helmet. The same handsome face greeted him, its gentle expression unchanged. The golden hair glowed even brighter beneath the Sun.
Cael pressed his ear to his mouth.
No breath.
His fingers searched for a pulse.
Nothing.
"NO!"
Cael ripped away the battered golden armor and began compressions, ramming his palms against Arlen's chest.
One minute.
Two.
Three…
The sky turned gray.
A drop of rain landed on Arlen's cheek. Then another. Then many.
The remaining fires were extinguished.
And with them—Cael's hope.
His arms collapsed. He fell back. His blood colored eyes stared upward, burned by the cursed flames. His face no longer looked human. It was the same dark color as his scorched hair.
He lay there.
For what felt like eternity.
Then he rose again.
Soaked in rain. Silent. He looked down at Arlen's body—his face blank.
"The Hero is dead."
His stare didn't waver.
"How am I supposed to tell them? I'll be blamed for it…"
His gaze fell on the golden helmet.
"And they wouldn't be completely wrong…"
He picked it up. Placed it on his head.
"Don't be angry with me for this. If it would annoy you that much, you should give me a better idea."
He turned back to the lifeless corpse, as if waiting.
"Thought so… I'm sorry, Arlen."
The fake Hero donned the rest of the armor, took Arlen's belongings, and carried what remained of him.
***
Cael emerged from the Cradle of Withering Arlen lifeless in his arms, struggling through the mud as he still wasn't used to the heavy armor as if unqualified to adorn it. His head slumped down his eyes not leaving his companion's face desperate to notice any sign of life that he might have missed.
The Hero couldn't die so easily. He would obviously have a hidden ability that brought him back to life, or so Cael thought. It was a prank it had to be. Arlen just wanted to see his reaction if he were to die.
And there was that promise that he had him make, of course he would at least want to see how far Cael would go to fulfil it.
"Who am I kidding?"
Stopping in front of a dying tree, Cael finally tore his eyes from the corpse in his hands and looked up at the dark clouds above.
Drops of water fell down his cheek.
Was it the rain? Or something else entirely? Cael did not care.
Placing his friend down gently, he took out his daggers and started digging.
Occasionally looking at Arlen's body, he kept on digging and digging for an eternity taking his time waiting for something to stop him.
But nothing did.
The grave was ready for Arlen.
Jumping out of the hole Cael's muscles spasmed and a terrible pain hit him.
But he paid it no mind.
Holding his friend in his arms once more he placed him inside of the hole.
After hesitating for a long time, the first handful of dirt was thrown over the Hero's body.
When the last bit of dirt was over, he placed a large rock at its head and carved into it with his dull dagger:
"Cael Denvyr died while fighting the Worldwound."