The wyvern's screech split the mountain air as Thane Blackstorm rolled beneath its snapping jaws, his runic blade carving a glowing arc through the beast's scaled belly. Black blood sprayed across the rocky ledge, hissing where it struck his enchanted armor.
"Come on, you overgrown lizard," Thane growled, spinning away from the creature's thrashing tail. "I've got places to be."
The wyvern reared back for another dive, its wingspan casting shadows across the narrow mountain pass. Its eyes burned with an intelligence that marked it as no mere beast—something had twisted this creature, made it larger and deadlier than nature intended. Thane had been tracking similar corrupted monsters for weeks, following a trail of devastation that led deeper into the Shadowpeak Mountains.
He pressed his thumb to the largest rune carved into his sword's crossguard. Ancient dwarven script flared to life, running down the fuller in lines of blue fire. The blade grew heavier in his hands as the enhancement magic activated, but the trade-off was worth it—few things could withstand a strike from a fully charged runeblade.
The wyvern dove again, claws extended. Thane waited until the last possible second before sidestepping, bringing his sword up in a two-handed grip. The empowered blade sheared through the creature's right wing like parchment, sending it crashing into the cliff face in a shower of loose stone.
"Should've stayed in whatever hole spawned you," Thane muttered, advancing on the wounded beast. The wyvern thrashed weakly, dark blood pooling beneath it. Its remaining wing beat frantically against the ground, but the fight had gone out of it.
Thane raised his sword for the killing blow, then froze. There—carved into the wyvern's forehead—was a symbol he'd hoped never to see again. The twisted spiral of the Void Cult, burned into the creature's scales like a brand.
"Son of a—"
The dying wyvern's eyes suddenly flared with purple light. Its wounds began to close, flesh knitting together with unnatural speed. The severed wing twitched, then started to regrow in a grotesque display of corrupted healing magic.
Thane didn't wait to see the resurrection complete. He triggered every combat rune on his blade simultaneously—a dangerous move that would drain his weapon's power reserves but deliver devastating force. The sword became a bar of incandescent light as he drove it through the wyvern's skull and into the stone beneath.
The creature's scream cut off abruptly. The purple light faded from its eyes, and this time it stayed dead.
"Void magic," Thane spat, wiping black blood from his face. The Cult of the Endless Dark had been supposedly destroyed five years ago, their leaders executed and their artifacts destroyed. Apparently, someone had missed a few.
He pulled his sword free and examined the blade. Three of the seven runes carved into the metal had gone dark, their power exhausted. It would take days of meditation and careful magical focusing to recharge them, time he probably didn't have.
A sound from higher up the mountain made him look up—the rhythmic beating of wings, but too large and too slow to be another wyvern. Dragon wings.
Thane cursed and scrambled for cover behind a boulder as an enormous shadow passed overhead. But the dragon didn't attack. Instead, it landed on a ledge fifty feet above him with surprising grace for something the size of a small castle.
"Thane Blackstorm," the dragon called down, its voice like controlled thunder. "I would speak with you."
Thane kept his sword ready but stepped into view. The dragon was ancient, its scales the deep green of old copper with veins of gold running through them. More importantly, it wore no Void Cult markings and spoke with the formal cadence of the old dragons, the ones who remembered the time before the Sundering Wars.
"I'm listening," Thane called back.
"I am Verithax the Chronicler. I have watched you hunt the corrupted beasts for many days. You follow their trail toward the Screaming Peaks."
"So?"
"So you walk toward your death, young Runeguard. The source of the corruption is not what you think it is."
Thane climbed closer, using handholds in the cliff face to reach a ledge that put him nearer to the dragon's eye level. "Then tell me what it is."
Verithax studied him with eyes like molten amber. "First, tell me why you hunt alone. The Runeguard Order numbered in the hundreds when last I paid attention to mortal affairs. Where are your brothers-in-arms?"
The question hit harder than Thane had expected. He'd been avoiding that particular truth for months now, but looking into the ancient dragon's knowing gaze, he found himself speaking.
"Dead. All of them. The Order fell three months ago when we tried to stop a cult ritual in the Whispering Woods. I'm the only one who made it out."
"The only one, or the only one who chose to run?"
Anger flared in Thane's chest. "I didn't run. I followed orders. My commander sent me to get reinforcements while the others held the ritual site. By the time I returned..." He trailed off, the memory still too raw.
"By the time you returned, the ritual was complete and your brothers were dead," Verithax finished gently. "And now you hunt the creatures spawned by that ritual, seeking either vengeance or death."
"Maybe both."
The dragon was quiet for a long moment, then spread one massive wing. "Climb up. There are things you must see before you continue this fool's errand."
Thane hesitated. Trusting dragons was generally considered a poor life choice, but Verithax was right about one thing—he was walking toward his death if he continued alone. And despite his earlier bravado, he wasn't quite ready to die yet.
He sheathed his sword and climbed onto the dragon's wing, then up to settle between two massive neck ridges. "Where are we going?"
"To witness the true scope of what you face. Hold tight."
Verithax launched himself from the cliff with powerful wingbeats that sent hurricane-force winds howling through the pass. Thane gripped the dragon's scales and tried not to look down as they climbed higher into the mountains.
The flight lasted less than an hour, but it was long enough for Thane to see the devastation spreading through the peaks. Entire forests had been twisted into grotesque parodies of life, their leaves black and their branches reaching toward the sky like grasping claws. Rivers ran with dark water that steamed where it touched natural stone. And everywhere, corrupted creatures prowled in packs—not just wyverns, but bears with too many eyes, wolves whose fur burned with cold fire, and things that had no names in any language Thane knew.
"The ritual your brothers died to stop," Verithax called over the wind. "What was its purpose?"
"To open a gateway to the Void Realm," Thane shouted back. "We thought we'd prevented it, but apparently..."
"Apparently you only delayed it. Look ahead."
They crested a ridge, and Thane saw their destination. In the heart of the Screaming Peaks, where ancient maps marked only empty wilderness, stood a fortress that hurt to look at directly. Its walls were built from black stone that seemed to absorb light, and above its highest tower, reality itself was torn open like a wound. Through the rift, Thane could see the endless darkness of the Void Realm, and shapes moving within it that made his mind recoil.
"The gateway stands open," Verithax said as he began to descend toward a landing site several miles from the fortress. "And every day, more creatures of shadow pour through. Soon they will be strong enough to march on the lowlands, and then..."
"Then the world ends," Thane finished grimly. "How long do we have?"
"Days. Perhaps a week if we are fortunate." Verithax touched down in a hidden valley, landing beside ruins that looked like they had once been a Runeguard outpost. "But there is hope, if you are willing to pay the price for it."
As Thane climbed down from the dragon's back, he noticed weapons and armor scattered among the ruins—the remains of his fallen brothers who had made it this far before being overwhelmed. His heart clenched as he recognized Captain Aldrich's distinctive war hammer, its runes dark and lifeless.
"What price?" he asked, kneeling to close the empty eye sockets of a skull that still wore a Runeguard helmet.
"The ritual that opened the gateway can be reversed, but only from within the fortress itself. Someone must reach the ritual chamber and speak the words of unbinding while the gateway is at full power." Verithax's expression was grim. "The magical backlash will almost certainly kill whoever attempts it."
Thane stood, his jaw set with determination. "Then I'd better get started. How do I get inside?"
"There is an old smuggler's tunnel that leads from these ruins to the fortress cellars. But Thane..." The dragon's voice carried a note of warning. "The tunnel passes through the Whispering Caves, where madness itself takes physical form. And the fortress above is guarded by creatures that make the wyvern you fought seem like a housecat."
"I've faced worse," Thane lied, checking his equipment. His sword's runes were still mostly depleted, his armor was dented from the wyvern fight, and he was low on food and water. But the alternative was letting the world burn.
"Have you?" Verithax asked quietly. "The cult leader who conducted the original ritual—he's still alive, you know. The gateway's power has transformed him into something beyond mortal ken. Even if you reach the ritual chamber, you'll have to face him."
Thane's blood went cold. "Malachar? But we saw him die in the Whispering Woods."
"You saw his mortal form perish. His spirit merged with the Void energies he was channeling, making him something between man and demon. He has spent three months growing in power, feeding on the life force of everything the corruption touches."
The weight of the task before him threatened to crush Thane's resolve. Face an army of corrupted monsters, navigate caves that drove men insane, infiltrate a fortress of living shadow, and then somehow defeat a cult leader who had become something beyond human comprehension. All alone, with damaged equipment and no backup.
It should have been impossible. It probably was impossible.
"Alright," Thane said, shouldering his pack. "Where's this tunnel?"
Verithax studied him for a long moment, then something that might have been approval flickered in the dragon's ancient eyes. "Perhaps there is more of the old Runeguard spirit left in the world than I thought. Come. I will show you the way."
As they walked toward the tunnel entrance hidden among the ruins, Thane tried not to think about the odds against him. Instead, he focused on the faces of his fallen brothers, on the innocent people who would die if he failed, on the simple fact that someone had to try.
Even if that someone was the last Runeguard in the world.