Kael Draven
The Ashveil Wastes earned their name.
We'd been walking for maybe two hours, and I'd already seen three different types of terrain that wanted us dead. First was the ash fields-exactly what they sounded like. Gray, lifeless dirt that kicked up clouds with every step, getting in our eyes and lungs until we were both coughing like we had the plague. Then came the crystal forest, where massive shadowstone formations jutted from the ground like broken teeth. Beautiful and deadly. One wrong step and you'd slice yourself open on edges sharper than any blade.
Now we were crossing what Lyra called the scorched flats. Here, the ground was hard, cracked, and still warm from the day's heat. Nothing grew. Nothing moved. It was like walking across the corpse of the world.
"We need to find water," Lyra said. Her voice was hoarse from the ash. "And shelter. The temperature drops fast out here once the sun sets completely."
I knew that she was right, but what was I to do? This body was already too weak. My legs seemed to buckle at any moment. My head pounded from dehydration. The hunger pangs were gnawing at my insides like a living thing.
I'd once conquered continents, led armies across hostile territory. Now, I could barely walk across empty land without collapsing.
The humiliation burned worse than the thirst.
"There." Lyra gestured to a dark shape out on the horizon. "See that? Looks like ruins. Might have water, or at least shelter."
I squinted but could barely make it out. Her eyes were better than mine, or maybe this body's vision was just that poor. Either way, ruins meant that civilization once existed here. And where there was civilization, there was usually water.
"How far?" I asked.
"Maybe an hour's walk. If we keep a steady pace."
An hour felt impossible. But what choice did we have? I nodded, and we continued walking.
The silence between us was heavy, but it wasn't hostile anymore; it was just a silence born of exhaustion. We were too tired for conversation, our energies spent on putting one foot in front of the other. Still, I found myself observing her whenever she wasn't looking.
Lyra moved like a fighter. Even exhausted, even injured, she kept her balance, kept her awareness. Her eyes continually scanned our surroundings, searching for threats, opportunities-anything that might help us survive. It was the kind of awareness born from experience, from living in danger long enough that caution became instinct.
She'd mentioned rebels earlier, before Viktor dragged her into the mine. I wondered what her story was. Why she'd been stealing shadowstone. What cause she believed in strongly enough to risk death for.
Not that it mattered to me. I didn't have room in my plans for causes or beliefs. I had one goal: survive long enough to regain my power and figure out what happened to my empire. Everything else was secondary.
Still, I was curious.
"These rebels you mentioned," I said, breaking the silence. "What do they want?
Lyra looked at me in surprise as I spoke. "Freedom. What else?"
"From the Temple?"
"From everyone. The Temple, the nobles, the whole rotten system." She kicked a rock, sending it skittering across the cracked ground. "The world's broken, Eren. Has been for a long time. A few people sit on top, living in luxury, while the rest of us scrape by on nothing. The rebels want to change that."
"By stealing shadowstone?"
She was silent for a moment. "The Temple controls shadowstone. They mine it, process it, and use it to fund their armies. Cut off their supply, and you cut off their power. That's the theory, anyway."
"And you believe in this theory?"
"I believe in not being a slave." Her voice came out sharp. "I believe that nobody should have to live the way we lived in that mine. If the rebels can change that, then yes, I believe in them."
I said nothing. Her idealism was touching, in a naive sort of way. I'd seen enough history to understand how these stories ended. There were rebels who fought for freedom and won or lost, becoming the new oppressors or getting crushed by the old ones. The system always survived, and power always found a way.
But I didn't tell her that. Let her keep her hope. Maybe it would keep her alive long enough to be useful.
We walked in silence for another thirty minutes. The ruins grew larger, more defined. I could make out walls now, crumbled but still standing. Buildings that might have been homes once, or shops, or temples. A dead city, abandoned to the Wastes.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"Don't know. There are ruins like this all over the Wastes. From before."
"Before what?
Lyra gave me an odd look. "Before the Shattering. You really don't know?"
I realized my mistake immediately. Everyone in this time would know their own history. Asking basic questions marked me as either ignorant or suspicious. I needed to be more careful.
"I know of it," I said. "Just not the details. We didn't get much education in the mines."
She seemed to accept that. "A thousand years ago, there was a war. The worst war in history. The Shadow Emperor tried to conquer everything, and the free kingdoms fought back. The fighting destroyed half the world. When it was over, the emperor was dead, but so was almost everything else. The land never recovered. That's why we have the Wastes."
The Shadow Emperor. Me. They were talking about me.
I had not changed my expression, but within, my mind was racing. A war that destroyed half the world? That wasn't how I remembered it. My conquests were bloody, yes, but calculated. Strategic. I'd united territories, not destroyed them. I'd built an empire, not a wasteland.
What had happened after my death? What had Theron done?
"The emperor," I said carefully. "What do people say about him?
Lyra shrugged. "That he was a monster, evil incarnate. They say he made deals with demons, that he could kill with a thought, that his shadow could swallow cities whole. Typical legend stuff. Probably half of it's exaggerated."
"And the other half?"
"Who knows? He died a thousand years ago. What's the difference?"
It mattered. It mattered more than she could possibly know. But I just nodded and kept walking.
We reached the ruins as the last light faded from the sky. Up close, they were even more impressive. These hadn't been simple buildings. The architecture was complex, elegant. I recognized the style, it was from my era. This had been one of my cities once.
Now, it was bones.
We came across what looked to have been some sort of temple or administrative building; it had part of the roof intact, which meant a semblance of shelter from the elements. Lyra cautiously checked inside, making sure that nothing bad was lurking in the shadows.
"Clear," she announced. "We can rest here tonight."
I followed her inside, and the space was big, empty except for the rubble and dust, but it was dry and protected, and that made it paradise compared to the mine. We settled in a corner, where we could view the entrance, our backs against a wall that was still solid.
Lyra pulled something from her pocket, a small cloth bundle I hadn't noticed before. She unwrapped it to reveal a piece of hard bread and what looked like dried meat. Not much, but more than nothing.
"Snatched it from the guard's belt while you were searching for keys," she replied. She divided the food in half and handed me one half. "Eat. We need our strength."
I took it, surprised by the gesture. The bread was stale and the meat was tough, but it was the best thing I'd tasted since I woke up. We ate in silence, making the small portions last as long as possible.
When we were done, Lyra leaned her head back against the wall. "We should take turns sleeping. Keep watch."
"I'll take first watch," I offered.
She looked at me suspiciously. "Why?"
"Because you have been awake longer than me. You need the rest more."
It was logical enough that she couldn't really argue. After a moment, she nodded. "Wake me in a few hours. Don't try to be a hero and stay up all night. We both need sleep."
"I won't."
She closed her eyes, and within a few minutes, her breathing had evened out into sleep. I watched her for a moment, then turned my attention to the ruins surrounding us.
Now that I was alone, I could finally focus. I reached out with my senses, feeling for the shadows. They were everywhere here, stronger than in the mine. The darkness was thick, almost tangible. And it responded to me like an old friend returning home.
I pulled a piece of shadowstone from my pocket and held it up in the faint moonlight coming through the broken roof. The crystal was dark, almost black, with veins of deeper shadow running through it. I could feel the power inside it, dormant but present.
In my time we'd used shadowstone to amplify magic, to store power, to create weapons that could cut through anything. It was precious, rare, controlled carefully by those who understood its value. Now it was so common they used slaves to mine it in bulk.
That suggested either of two things: shadowstone had become more plentiful somehow, or the knowledge of how to use it properly had been lost. I suspected the latter. If the Temple was hoarding it and not using it effectively, then they didn't understand what they had.
That was good. That gave me an advantage.
I closed my fingers around the stone and reached into it with my will. The connection came easier than I'd expected. Power flowed from the crystal into me, filling pathways that had been empty since I woke. Not much, this body was still too weak to handle real power, but enough. Enough to feel like myself again.
The shadows in the room responded. They deepened, darkened, began to move according to my thoughts rather than the wind. I could shape them, control them, make them solid if I wanted.
But I didn't. Not yet. This body's limits still weren't clear to me; I was still learning what I could do without breaking it. Rush things, and I'd end up like that man in the mineconsumed by power I couldn't control.
Patience. That was key. Build slowly, carefully. Learn the rules of this new world before breaking them.
I released the shadowstone and let the power fade, the shadows returned to normal. My heart was pounding, and I was dizzy from the effort. Even that small use had pushed me close to my limit.
Pathetic. But it was a start.
The next hour was spent practicing in short bursts: calling shadows, shaping them, dismissing them. With each attempt, I pushed a bit more, tested a little more. By the end of it, I was moving hand-sized shadows around with relative ease, but anything larger and I could feel my skull splitting open.
Progress. Slow, frustrating progress, but progress nonetheless.
When I felt a few hours had gone by, I woke Lyra with a shake. She was instantly alert, her hand moving to where a weapon ought to have been. When she saw where we were, she relaxed just a little.
"Anything?" she asked.
"Nothing. Quiet."
She nodded and took up position while I settled down to sleep. Exhaustion hit me like a hammer now that I wasn't focused on staying alert. My eyes closed almost immediately.
But before sleep took me, I heard Lyra's very quiet, almost to herself, voice.
"Thanks. For getting us out."
I didn't respond. Wasn't sure what to say. She thought I'd saved us out of some sense of companionship or morality. The truth was simpler and more selfish, I'd saved us because I needed allies, and she was the most capable person available.
But maybe I didn't need to tell her that. Let her think what she wanted. It made things easier.
I fell asleep with shadows dancing behind my eyelids and the weight of shadowstone pressing against my leg through my pocket.
We would figure out what was next tomorrow. Tonight, we had survived.
For now, that was enough.