Three days later, Thane sat in Verithax's lair high in the Screaming Peaks, watching the dragon tend to wounds that should have killed him twice over. The ancient wyrm's healing magic was unlike anything he'd experienced—not the quick, battlefield repairs he was used to, but a deep restoration that seemed to reach into his very bones and remake them stronger than before.
"The void corruption ran deeper than I initially realized," Verithax explained, his massive claws moving with surprising delicacy as he applied another layer of healing salve. "It wasn't just affecting your wounds—it was trying to rewrite your fundamental nature. Without treatment, you would have become something like Malachar within days."
Thane flexed his left arm experimentally, marveling at the complete absence of pain where Malachar's claws had torn through muscle and bone. "How did you know to come for me?"
"I didn't. I came to witness the fortress's destruction and perhaps salvage some of your remains for a proper burial." The dragon's amber eyes held something that might have been amusement. "Imagine my surprise when I found you still alive in the ruins, surrounded by a protective barrier of silver light."
"Korvan's charm?"
"Among other things. The spirits of your brothers were there as well, somehow maintaining a pocket of stable reality in the midst of the collapse. Most remarkable—I've never seen mortal souls maintain such coherence after death, let alone actively intervene in the physical realm."
Thane touched the battle-charm that still hung around his neck, its silver surface now bearing intricate new patterns that definitely hadn't been there before. "Are they still...?"
"Present? Yes, though their connection to this realm grows weaker each day. They anchored themselves to your survival, but such bonds cannot last indefinitely." Verithax settled his bulk more comfortably on the stone floor of his lair. "They have perhaps a week before the natural order reasserts itself and draws them to whatever lies beyond death."
The thought of losing his brothers' spirits—the last remnant of the Order he'd served—hit Thane harder than he'd expected. They'd been his constant companions through the darkest moments of his mission, their presence a reminder that he wasn't truly alone in his struggle.
"There may be a way to preserve something of them," Verithax continued thoughtfully. "But it would require a significant sacrifice on your part."
"What kind of sacrifice?"
"The runeblade you carry—Dawnbreaker, forged by the greatest smiths of your Order. Its metal could be reforged, inscribed with preservation runes that would allow your brothers' spirits to remain as advisors and guardians. But the process would destroy the weapon itself, leaving you with nothing but an ordinary sword."
Thane looked down at the blade that had been his constant companion for over a decade. Dawnbreaker had saved his life countless times, its magic turning the tide in battles that should have been hopeless. The thought of destroying it felt like losing another piece of his identity.
But as he held the sword, he could feel his brothers' spirits stirring within its metal—somehow they'd bound themselves not just to him, but to the weapon that represented everything they'd fought for.
"If I agree to this, they'll be able to stay? To help if something like the Void Cult rises again?"
"In a limited capacity, yes. They would exist as echoes of their former selves, able to offer guidance and perhaps manifest briefly in times of great need. But they would never again be truly alive, never able to move on to whatever reward awaits faithful servants in the afterlife."
Thane considered this for a long moment, listening to the whispered conversations of his brothers' spirits. They seemed to be debating among themselves, weighing the costs and benefits of such an existence.
Finally, Captain Aldrich's voice rose above the others. The choice is yours, Thane. But know that we would gladly accept such a fate if it means continuing to serve beside you.
The world still has need of Runeguards, Sergeant Korven added. Even if only one remains in flesh, perhaps we can ensure the Order's ideals survive.
Besides, Marcus's spirit chimed in with something like his old humor, someone needs to keep you from doing anything stupidly heroic. Again.
Thane smiled despite himself. "Do it," he told Verithax. "Preserve them however you can."
The dragon nodded solemnly. "Very well. But first, there are others you should meet—survivors from the fortress who escaped during the final collapse. Your rescue mission succeeded in more ways than you realized."
As if summoned by his words, footsteps echoed from the cave entrance. Thane turned to see a group of people emerging from the tunnel that led to Verithax's lair—men and women in the tattered remains of various uniforms, their faces bearing the hollow look of those who had endured unimaginable horrors.
The man in the lead wore the remnants of a Runeguard's armor, though his sword was missing and his left arm ended in a bandaged stump. Behind him came others—city guards, royal messengers, even what looked like a few minor nobles who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Brother Thane," the injured Runeguard said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am Derek Ironhold, formerly of the Eastern Chapter. We... we thought we were the only survivors."
"How many?" Thane asked quietly.
"Forty-three, from various locations across the kingdoms. Malachar had been collecting us for months, planning some sort of mass transformation ritual." Derek's expression darkened. "We would have been next if you hadn't destroyed the gateway when you did."
Thane felt a weight settling on his shoulders—the responsibility for these survivors, the knowledge that his actions had saved them but also left them without purpose or direction. The various Orders and organizations they'd served were gone, their infrastructure destroyed or corrupted.
"What will you do now?" he asked.
"That depends on you," Derek replied. "We've been talking, and... well, someone needs to rebuild. The Runeguards, the other Orders, the knowledge and traditions that were lost. If you're willing to take up the burden of leadership..."
"I'm no leader," Thane protested. "I barely managed to complete one mission, and that was with help from forces I don't fully understand."
You underestimate yourself, Captain Aldrich's spirit whispered. Leadership isn't about being perfect. It's about being willing to stand up when others cannot.
Besides, Korven added, who else would they follow? You're the one who walked into a fortress of nightmares and came out victorious. That tends to impress people.
Verithax watched the exchange with ancient eyes that held depths of wisdom Thane couldn't fathom. "The choice is yours, young Runeguard. But know that the world has changed. The old Orders, the old ways of doing things—they proved insufficient against the void corruption. Whatever you build next must be different, stronger, more adaptable."
"And what makes you think I know how to build something better?"
"Because you've already started," the dragon replied with what might have been a smile. "You preserved your brothers' spirits through bonds of loyalty and sacrifice. You turned their deaths into a source of strength rather than despair. That is the foundation upon which lasting institutions are built."
Thane looked at the assembled survivors, seeing hope beginning to kindle in their eyes for the first time since their rescue. They needed something to believe in, some purpose to replace what they'd lost. And if he was honest with himself, so did he.
"Alright," he said finally. "But we do this right. No more secret knowledge, no more isolated chapters operating independently. If we're going to rebuild the Orders, we make them open to anyone with the will to serve and the courage to stand against the darkness."
Derek smiled—the first genuine expression of joy Thane had seen from any of the survivors. "The New Guard, then? A merger of all the old Orders into something unified?"
"Something like that." Thane turned to Verithax. "I'll need that reforging you mentioned. And I'll need somewhere to establish a base of operations, somewhere defensible but accessible."
"I may have a suggestion for both," the dragon replied. "The ruins of your old fortress, before Malachar corrupted it—they could be rebuilt, made into a training ground for your new recruits. And as for the reforging... well, dragon fire has certain advantages over mortal forges."
As the survivors began discussing plans and possibilities, their voices filled with renewed purpose, Thane felt something he hadn't experienced since before the fall of his Order: hope for the future.
The void corruption had been stopped, but other threats would arise. There would always be those who sought power at the expense of others, who would summon demons or bargain with dark gods or simply use mundane cruelty to spread suffering.
But now there would be those ready to stand against them—not as isolated heroes operating in the shadows, but as part of something larger, something that could adapt and grow and endure.
The age of the solitary Runeguard was ending.
The age of the New Guard was about to begin.