# Chapter 660: The Breach
The howl came again, closer this time, cutting through the silence of the wastes like a jagged blade. It wasn't the wind, and it wasn't the mechanical screech of the Synod's constructs. It was something alive, something hungry, and it had caught their scent. Nyra tightened her grip on the Shard of Betrayal, the dormant stone offering no comfort in the dark. They had escaped the fire, she realized grimly, but the wastes had teeth of their own.
"Move," she hissed, shoving Jex forward. "Don't look back."
They scrambled over the ridge of ash and rusted metal, the grey powder choking their lungs with every breath. Behind them, the silhouette of the foundry was a jagged tear against the bruised purple sky, belching smoke that smelled of ozone and burnt flesh. But it was the sound that terrified her—the wet, guttural shrieks echoing from the deep crevices of the Bloom-Wastes.
Ruku bez stumbled, his massive frame crashing to his knees. The mute giant gasped, a froth of black bubbles spilling from his lips. The wound in his side, where the avatar's blade had pierced him, was no longer bleeding; the flesh around it had turned a sickly, translucent grey, the veins pulsing with a dull, necrotic light.
"Get him up!" Nyra shouted, grabbing ruku's arm. The skin was cold, shockingly so, like touching a corpse left out in the snow. "Jex, help me!"
Jex scrambled back, his face pale beneath the layer of soot. "He's heavy, Nyra. And he's burning up. I can feel the heat coming off him even through his coat."
"We don't leave him." Nyra's voice cracked, the steel in it wavering. She slung ruku's arm over her shoulder, grunting under the weight. He was a mountain of a man, and she was running on fumes. "Lift his legs. We have to find cover. Now."
They half-carried, half-dragged ruku bez into the shadow of a derelict transport hauler, its massive wheels stripped and rusting into the earth. The metal groaned as they shoved ruku into the shelter of the undercarriage. Nyra collapsed beside him, her chest heaving, the taste of copper thick in her mouth.
The howls stopped abruptly.
The silence that followed was worse. It was a heavy, listening silence. Nyra drew her sword, the blade glowing faintly in the gloom. She looked at Jex, who was pressing his back against the hauler's rusted axle, his eyes darting to the swirling ash clouds.
"They're hunting," Jex whispered, his voice barely audible. "The Bloomblights. They can smell the shard."
Nyra looked down at the Shard of Betrayal in her belt pouch. Even through the lead-lined wrapping, she could feel its cold malice. It was a beacon in the spiritual dark. "We have to mask it," she said, fumbling with the pouch. "I need... I need to use the echo."
She reached for the Shard of Compassion. It was barely a sliver, a fading echo of the original power she had entrusted to Soren so long ago. It pulsed with a weak, golden warmth, a dying ember in a winter hearth. She pressed it against the wrapped Shard of Betrayal.
"Come on," she pleaded, closing her eyes. She focused on the memory of Soren—his stubbornness, his quiet strength, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching. She poured that feeling, that desperate need to protect, into the echo.
A soft, golden light flared between her hands. For a moment, the cold of the Betrayal shard receded, pushed back by the gentle warmth of the Compassion echo. The grey veins in ruku's chest stopped pulsing, settling into a dull, dormant ache. The giant's breathing steadied, the ragged rattle smoothing out.
"It worked," Jex breathed, slumping in relief. "You stabilized him."
"For now," Nyra said, her hands trembling as she withdrew the echo. The sliver was now clear, its power spent. It was nothing more than a piece of glass now. "The echo is gone. I can't do that again."
She looked out at the wastes. The ash was thickening, swirling into unnatural shapes. The howls had ceased, but she could feel them out there, circling. Waiting.
"We can't stay here," Nyra said, sheathing her sword. She helped ruku bez sit up. The giant looked at her, his eyes clouded with pain, but he nodded. He pointed a massive finger toward the north, toward a faint, flickering glow on the horizon.
"The Sanctum," Nyra realized. "Isolde."
They had a destination. But between them and the safety of the Sanctum lay miles of hellscape.
"Stay close," she commanded, pulling her scarf up over her nose and mouth. "And keep your weapons ready."
They moved out into the grey, three tiny specks against the vastness of the dying world.
***
The transition from the wastes to the outskirts of the capital was jarring. One moment, they were trudging through endless grey dunes; the next, the skeletal skyline of the city loomed before them, a jagged row of black teeth biting into the sky. But the city was not as they had left it.
Smoke rose from a dozen districts, thick pillars of oily black that blotted out the stars. The sound of fighting drifted to them on the wind—the scream of artillery, the crackle of energy weapons, and the unmistakable roar of the Bloomblights.
"The siege," Jex muttered, his grip tightening on his dagger. "It's already started."
They approached the perimeter wall near the old industrial sector. The massive gates, usually manned by Crownlands Wardens, were twisted wrecks of metal, blown inward from the force of a massive explosion. Bodies littered the ground—Wardens in their gold and red, torn apart by claws that looked far too large to be human.
"Quiet," Nyra warned, stepping over a severed banner of the Radiant Synod.
They slipped through the breach in the wall. The air inside the city was worse than the wastes. It smelled of burning rubber, sewage, and the sickly sweet scent of rotting meat. The streets were deserted, save for the debris of battle—overturned carts, shattered glass, and the occasional twitching form of a wounded soldier.
Ruku bez grunted, his strength returning slowly, fueled by adrenaline and the lingering effect of the shard. He walked with a limp, his hand pressed to his side, but his eyes were alert, scanning the shadows.
They moved through the alleyways, sticking to the darkness. The main thoroughfares were death traps. From the shadows of a collapsed tenement, Nyra watched a pack of Bloomblights—skeletal, wolf-like creatures made of obsidian bone and glowing violet energy—tear apart a supply convoy. The Wardens' bullets sparked harmlessly off the creatures' hides.
"We can't fight them," Jex whispered, his face pale. "Not in this state."
"We don't fight," Nyra agreed. "We flow."
They turned a corner and found themselves facing the secondary entrance to the Sanctum's underground network. It was disguised as a maintenance tunnel for the city's old steam pipes. The heavy iron door was scarred by claw marks, but it held.
Nyra placed her hand on the biometric scanner. It flickered weakly, then turned green. The door hissed open, revealing the dimly lit spiral staircase beyond.
"In," she ordered.
As they stepped into the tunnel, a massive tremor shook the ground. Dust rained from the ceiling. Nyra looked back, out through the narrowing gap of the door.
Above the city, the sky had torn open.
A massive rift was forming directly above the central district. From it, a rain of dark energy began to fall, slow and deliberate. Where the drops landed, buildings didn't burn; they disintegrated, turning to grey ash instantly.
"The King," Nyra whispered, the blood draining from her face. "He's here."
She slammed the door shut, spinning the heavy locking wheel. The sound of the city's dying screams was muffled, replaced by the hum of the Sanctum's air recyclers.
They were safe, for the moment. But outside, the world was ending.
***
The interior of the Sanctum was a hive of frantic activity. Technicians and support staff were scrambling, carrying data drives and weapon crates. The air was thick with tension.
"Nyra!" a voice shouted.
Isolde ran down the corridor, her Inquisitor's robes torn and stained with soot. She looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red, but her presence was a grounding force. She stopped short when she saw ruku bez, her eyes widening at the grey veins tracing his skin.
"By the Concord," she breathed. "What happened?"
"We got the shard," Nyra said, ignoring the question. She pulled the wrapped bundle from her belt. "Kaelen is dead. The avatar is destroyed. But the Valerius-AI... it's gone, Isolde. It sacrificed itself to contain the corruption."
Isolde stared at her, the weight of the news settling in. The AI had been the backbone of their resistance, the tactical genius that had leveled the playing field against the Synod. Without it, they were blind.
"And the shard?" Isolde asked, her voice low.
Nyra unwrapped the package. The Shard of Betrayal lay there, dark and silent. "It's dormant. The stasis field is holding. But I don't know for how long. I had to use the Compassion echo to stabilize ruku. I have nothing left to suppress it if it wakes up."
Isolde nodded, her mind racing. "We have to get you to the Foundry. The equipment there is the only thing capable of integrating that shard safely."
"The Foundry?" Jex asked, incredulous. "Have you looked outside? The city is a warzone. The Foundry is in the middle of the combat zone."
"It's the only way," Isolde said firmly. She turned to a nearby console, typing rapidly. A holographic map of the city flickered to life. Red swaths covered the central districts. "The Bloomblights have cut off the main roads. But there is a route through the old sewers. It leads directly to the Foundry's sub-levels."
"Sewers," Jex groaned. "Of course."
"It will be guarded," Isolde warned, looking at Nyra. "The King's forces know the importance of the Foundry. They won't let us waltz in."
"We didn't come this far to stop now," Nyra said. She looked at ruku bez. The giant met her gaze, his jaw set in determination. He tapped his chest, over his heart.
"Then we move," Nyra said. "Lead the way, Isolde."
They descended deeper into the bowels of the city, leaving the relative safety of the Sanctum behind. The sewer tunnels were ancient, built of brick and stone that predated the Bloom. The air was damp and foul, smelling of rot and stagnant water. Every drip of water echoed like a gunshot in the confined space.
They moved in silence, their footsteps splashing softly in the muck. Isolde led with a mag-light, the beam cutting through the gloom. Nyra took the rear, her sword drawn, her senses stretched to the limit.
"How long has it been?" Nyra asked softly, breaking the silence. "Since the siege began?"
"Hours," Isolde replied, not turning around. "The Synod's forces collapsed almost immediately. The Withering King... he didn't send an army. He sent a plague. The Bloomblights are everywhere. And the ones they kill... they don't stay dead."
Nyra thought of the rift in the sky. "He's terraforming."
"Yes," Isolde said grimly. "Turning the city into a new wasteland. If he succeeds, the Crownlands fall. The Riverchain turns to ash. It's the end of everything."
They reached a junction in the tunnels. Isolde stopped, holding up a hand. "Wait."
She killed the light. They stood in absolute darkness.
Then, Nyra heard it. A skittering sound. Multiple legs on wet stone. Coming from the tunnel ahead.
"Bloomblights," Jex whispered, his voice trembling.
"Three of them," Nyra corrected, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She could see the faint violet glow of their eyes reflecting off the damp walls. "Maybe four."
"We can't bypass them," Isolde whispered. "The tunnel is too narrow. They'll hear us."
"Then we kill them," Nyra said. She stepped forward, placing a hand on ruku bez's shoulder. "Quietly."
The giant nodded. He unhooked the massive hammer from his back, the weapon heavy and brutal. He moved with surprising grace for his size, stepping into the knee-deep water without a sound.
Nyra followed, her blade held low. The creatures were close now, their chittering voices audible. They were feeding on something—a rat, or perhaps a unfortunate refugee who had fled into the tunnels.
Ruku bez struck first.
He lunged from the water, his hammer coming down in a crushing arc. There was a sickening crunch of bone and carapace. The first Bloomblight didn't even have time to shriek.
The others spun around, hissing, their violet eyes blazing.
Nyra was already moving. She ducked under a slashing claw, her sword flashing in the dark. She sliced through the creature's legs, sending it sprawling into the muck. Before it could recover, she drove the blade into its skull, silencing it forever.
The third creature lunged at Jex. The thief screamed, slashing wildly with his dagger, but the creature was faster. It pinned him against the wall, its jaws snapping inches from his face.
"Jex!" Isolde shouted. She raised her hand, a bolt of kinetic energy crackling in her palm, but she hesitated, afraid of hitting Jex.
A massive hand grabbed the Bloomblight by the throat. Ruku bez, bleeding from his side, roared—a sound of pure, primal fury. He ripped the creature off Jex and hurled it against the brick wall with enough force to crack the stone. The beast fell limp, its head caved in.
Silence returned to the tunnel, heavy and ragged.
Jex slid down the wall, hyperventilating. "I... I almost..."
"You're alive," Nyra said, wiping black ichor from her blade. She looked at ruku bez. The giant was swaying, the grey veins in his chest pulsing brighter than before. The fight had taken a toll.
"We have to keep moving," Isolde said, her voice urgent. "That noise will have attracted others."
They pressed on, faster now. The physical exertion was wearing them down, but the fear gave them wings.
Finally, they reached a rusted ladder leading up to a manhole cover. Isolde climbed first, pushing the cover aside. She scrambled up, then signaled for the others to follow.
Nyra climbed next, her muscles screaming in protest. She emerged onto a street that looked like a vision of hell. They were in the industrial district, the heart of the Foundry's territory.
The sky was a swirling vortex of black and violet. Ash fell like snow, coating the rubble in a grey blanket. In the distance, the Foundry loomed, its furnaces cold and dark, its spires broken.
But it was the street level that was the nightmare.
Bloomblights swarmed the area like ants. Hundreds of them. They were attacking a barricade set up by the Foundry's defenders—mechanics and laborers armed with improvised weapons and a few jury-rigged energy turrets.
"The breach," Nyra said, pointing to a side gate in the Foundry's wall. It was fifty yards away, across open ground. "We have to make a run for it."
"It's suicide," Jex said, looking at the horde.
"We don't have a choice," Nyra said. She looked at Isolde. "Can you create a distraction?"
Isolde nodded grimly. She pulled a grenade from her belt—a crude incendiary device. "I can draw their attention. But you have to move the second I throw it."
"Do it," Nyra said.
Isolde took a deep breath, then hurled the grenade toward the main barricade. It arced through the air, landing perfectly in the center of a cluster of Bloomblights.
*BOOM.*
Fire and shrapnel erupted. The creatures shrieked, turning their attention toward the explosion. The defenders at the barricade cheered, seizing the moment to lay down suppressing fire.
"Now!" Nyra yelled.
They sprinted across the open street. The ash was thick, obscuring their vision, but it also provided cover. Nyra led the way, her heart pounding in her chest.
They were halfway there when a shadow detached itself from the rubble above.
A Bloomblight, larger than the others, dropped down in front of them. It was a hulking monstrosity, its armor thick and spiked. It roared, a sound that shook Nyra's bones.
Ruku bez didn't hesitate. He roared back, a challenge, and charged the beast.
"Ruku, no!" Nyra screamed.
The giant collided with the monster, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. They grappled, hammer against claw, a titanic struggle of strength.
"Go!" ruku bez grunted, straining against the creature. "I... hold!"
Nyra hesitated, torn. She couldn't leave him.
"Go!" Isolde grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the gate. "He bought us this chance. Don't waste it!"
Nyra looked back one last time. Ruku bez was holding his own, but the grey veins were glowing like hot coals now. He was burning his life force to fight.
She turned and ran. She and Jex and Isolde slipped through the side gate just as the defenders at the barricade began to fall. Isolde slammed the heavy iron gate shut, throwing the locking bar into place.
Seconds later, heavy bodies slammed against the metal from the outside. The Bloomblights had found them.
Nyra leaned against the gate, her chest heaving. She looked through the viewing slit.
Outside, in the swirling ash, she could see ruku bez. He had killed the large beast, but he was surrounded now. A dozen smaller creatures were circling him, nipping at his heels.
He looked toward the gate, his eyes finding Nyra's through the slit. He didn't look afraid. He looked... content. He raised his massive hammer one last time and charged into the swarm.
"No," Nyra whispered, tears cutting tracks through the soot on her face. "Ruku..."
The horde swallowed him. All she could see was the flash of his hammer, and then, nothing.
"He's gone," Jex said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Nyra shook him off. She turned away from the gate, her grief hardening into cold, sharp resolve. She touched the Shard of Betrayal at her belt.
"He didn't die for nothing," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "We finish this. Now."
They ran through the silent corridors of the Foundry. The machinery was still, the workers gone or dead. It felt like a tomb.
They reached the central integration chamber. It was a vast, circular room dominated by a towering crystalline structure—the Resonance Spire. This was where the shards were meant to be united, where the power of the Gifted could be channeled to restore the world or destroy it.
Isolde immediately went to the control console, her fingers flying across the keys. "Power is fluctuating. The Spire is unstable. But I can initiate the sequence."
"Hurry," Nyra said. She approached the central pedestal. She unwrapped the Shard of Betrayal and placed it into the empty slot.
The moment the shard touched the pedestal, the room lit up. Violet energy surged through the crystalline veins of the Spire. The ground shook.
"It's reacting to the shard," Isolde warned. "The corruption is trying to take over the system."
"Stabilize it!" Nyra commanded.
"I'm trying!" Isolde shouted. "I need the other shards to balance the equation! Where are the others?"
Nyra froze. She had the Betrayal shard. She had used the last of the Compassion echo. But the third shard... the Shard of Will. Soren had it. Soren was gone, lost in the wastes, or worse.
"I don't have it," Nyra admitted, the truth hitting her like a hammer. "Soren has the Shard of Will."
"Without it," Isolde said, her face pale, "the Spire will overload. It won't rewrite the world. It will shatter what's left of it."
Suddenly, the doors to the chamber blasted open.
Nyra spun around, sword raised.
Standing in the doorway was a figure clad in black armor, his face hidden by a helm fashioned like a skull. He held a massive greatsword, the edge crackling with dark energy.
Kaelen Vor.
But it wasn't the Kaelen she knew. This was something else. His movements were too smooth, too precise. And his eyes... they glowed with the same violet light as the Bloomblights.
"I see you found my toy," Kaelen said, his voice distorted and echoing. "Thank you for bringing it home."
"You're dead," Nyra snarled. "We killed you in the foundry."
Kaelen laughed, a cold, mechanical sound. "You killed a shell. A vessel. The Withering King does not die so easily. He adapts. He endures."
He raised his sword. "Now, hand over the shard. Or I will take it from your corpse."
Nyra tightened her grip on her blade. She looked at Isolde, who was frantically typing at the console, and at Jex, who was cowering behind a piece of machinery.
She was alone. Ruku was dead. Valerius was gone. Soren was missing.
But she was still standing.
"Come and get it," Nyra said.
She charged.