The night had teeth.
Kaelen and Lira trudged through ash-dusted plains, the shard in his chest pulsing faintly like a heartbeat in the dark. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the ground, curling around his legs, teasing him with whispers that promised destruction.
"We should not linger here," Lira said, her cloak brushing the scorched earth. "The Hollow Crown hunts for survivors, and the shard's pulse will guide them straight to you."
Kaelen did not answer. His chest ached with the shard's hunger, each pulse whispering: Power. Kill. Become.
Hours passed, the horizon bleeding red into black. Then, in the distance, a flicker of fire glimmered — not the faint glow of the dusk, but deliberate, controlled. Smoke spiraled upward in tight columns, and the smell of wood and spice carried faintly on the wind.
"The Ashborn," Lira murmured. "Nomads who revere flame as the last spark of the old gods. Dangerous, unpredictable… but allies, if they accept you."
As they approached, the tribe's warriors emerged. Their armor was light, made of leathers burned black, adorned with ash-white markings — sigils that shifted faintly in the firelight. Spears and flaming torches in hand, they circled Kaelen and Lira.
"You carry the mark of a god's fragment," said the tallest of them, a woman with fire-tinted hair and eyes like molten metal. "We know why the mountains bleed. Why the rivers blacken. And why shadows walk alone tonight."
Kaelen swallowed, keeping his hand over the shard. "I… I am no god. I did not ask for this."
The warrior laughed, a sound like sparks scattering over stone. "No one asks for power. No one asks for chains. But they come anyway."
A younger Ashborn warrior stepped forward, pointing at Kaelen's chest. "The fragment… it hungers, yes? We can see it. And you will feed it if we let you stay?"
Kaelen's shadow twitched, curling around the nearest Ashborn warrior's legs. He recoiled, then forced the shadow back. "I… I can control it. I will not let it harm innocents."
The tall warrior studied him, eyes narrowing. "Control? Many say that. Few survive the first night."
Lira stepped forward. "He survived a battlefield, alone. And his shadow is not yet his master. But it could be… if he fails to learn."
The Ashborn deliberated in murmurs, their voices a low hum like distant thunder. Finally, the tall woman nodded. "You may stay. But know this — if the fragment kills more than it feeds, you die. If you fail the night, you will be burned, your ashes scattered, so the shard may not find another vessel here."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "And if I succeed?"
The woman's smile was like fire against stone. "Then you might yet walk free. For a time. But freedom has a price — the shard's hunger grows each day. You will be tempted. Corrupted. Tested."
The air shifted. From the mountains, a faint tremor rolled through the earth. Black rivers gleamed faintly, pulsing like veins of a colossal heart. The shard throbbed in response, louder now, almost a roar.
Kaelen pressed his hands to it. The shadow at his feet writhed violently, stretching toward the mountains as if it could leap across miles in a single bound.
"Tomorrow," Lira whispered, "you will face your first true test. Not the Hollow Crown. Not even the Shroudbound. But the hunger inside you. And the Ashborn will see if you survive it."
Kaelen swallowed hard, heart hammering. For the first time, he truly felt the weight of the shard, the weight of choice, and the terrifying clarity that every step forward would cost him something of himself.
The fires of the Ashborn camp crackled around him, and for the first time, Kaelen allowed himself to imagine the impossible: survival… and mastery.
But the shard whispered in the dark:
Mastery is a lie. Hunger is truth.