The battlefield was quiet now. Ash drifted lazily through the red dusk, settling on broken spears and shattered banners. Kaelen leaned against a scorched tree, hands pressed to the shard that throbbed beneath his chest like a second, alien heartbeat. His shadow writhed at his feet, dark tendrils curling across the ground like smoke that had taken life.
Lira watched him from a distance, eyes sharp and calculating. She did not approach too close; the shard's pulse seemed to hum through the very air, and even she, versed in the secret tongues of gods, did not dare enter its full radius.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said softly, voice carrying over the stillness. "The Hollow Crown soldiers… they were weak. But the shadow… it listened to your hatred. Tomorrow, it will demand more."
Kaelen's voice was hoarse. "I didn't choose it. It chose me."
"No," Lira replied. "You chose it the moment the shard took root. You allowed it to act. And every time it strikes, it tastes you. It learns you. It waits for the moment it can replace you."
He pressed a hand to his chest. The shard pulsed violently, each beat like the hammer of a giant unseen in the mountains. Pain lanced through him, spreading outward, black veins crawling beneath his skin. His shadow twitched violently, and for a moment, it seemed to detach entirely, hovering like a raven poised to strike.
Kaelen gritted his teeth. "Then what am I supposed to do? Run? Hide? Let it consume me?"
Lira stepped closer, golden eyes gleaming. "No. You will learn. You will train. And you will survive — not because you are strong, but because the world needs you alive. The shard chose you, yes, but it is not the master… not yet. You still can be."
A gust of wind swept across the battlefield, carrying the smell of burning stone from the mountains. Far above, the Veins of Stone pulsed faintly, black rivers crawling down jagged cliffs like veins of some colossal, sleeping beast. The shard thrummed in Kaelen's chest in response, whispering again, its voice low and urgent:
Power. Blood. Hunger. Become.
Kaelen dropped to his knees. "I… I can't… I…"
"Shhh," Lira said, kneeling beside him. She placed a hand gently over his own, and for a moment, the thrum softened, as if the shard paused to listen. "You are not alone. But listen carefully — every fragment of a god is a curse and a lesson. You will have to learn both, or it will teach you by destruction."
Kaelen's head dropped into his hands. Memories of his sister's death flashed through him: the altar, the chants, the fire. The world had ended for him once already. And now, the shard in his chest promised a power beyond human comprehension… if only he could survive it.
"What if I lose control?" he whispered. "What if it becomes me?"
Lira's eyes hardened. "Then you will die. Or worse — you will become something far more dangerous than any soldier, any king, or any god. You think the Hollow Crown fears the gods? They fear what you might become if you fail to master it."
The red dusk deepened. Shadows stretched and twisted unnaturally, licking at the edges of the battlefield. Kaelen felt the shard burn hotter, whispering in a voice that was no longer his own, telling him things he didn't want to hear:
They are weak. Tear them. Take their power. You are more than mortal. You are inevitable.
Kaelen closed his eyes, swallowing bile and fear. The shard's hunger was growing. He had survived a battlefield and killed without lifting a sword. But he knew — this was only the beginning.
"Tomorrow," Lira said softly, rising, "we leave the battlefield. There are others who will help you understand. The Ashborn, the Shroudbound… even the Hollow Crown may yet teach you something. But first… you must survive the night. And the shadow."
Kaelen's shadow writhed once more, stretching toward the mountains, then recoiling, as if sensing the stirrings deep within the Veins of Stone. The air hummed with power, fear, and anticipation.
And in that moment, Kaelen understood a terrible truth: the shard did not merely demand obedience. It demanded worship.
He would have to kneel to it… or destroy himself trying.
The night deepened, black rivers gleaming in the far-off mountains, as Kaelen and Lira disappeared into the ash-choked horizon.