Chapter 4: Reluctant Departure
The corridors of the Temple of the Pale Eye were too quiet.
Seralyn walked them with rigid shoulders and clenched teeth, every echo of her boots on the polished stone irritatingly loud in her ears. The temple's ancient silence pressed down like a weight, and the sigil on her palm pulsed with an almost accusatory glow.
Beside her, Kaela strolled like a woman on vacation barefoot, a light traveling robe draped over her shoulders, and an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Even when bound to a magical mark that tied their fates together, the witch managed to radiate maddening ease.
Seralyn had to remind herself, more than once, that violence in the temple was strictly forbidden.
"If you're going to glare at me the entire journey," Kaela said lightly, her tone almost playful, "perhaps I should fashion you a proper mask. Or a mirror. You should see how deeply you're scowling."
"Keep walking," Seralyn snapped.
They reached the outer gates where two temple guards both mages in ceremonial bronze and white armor stood at attention. A robed attendant waited with a satchel each, packed with supplies: dried food, enchanted canteens, rune-laced maps, and one silver compass that glowed faintly when Seralyn touched it.
"You'll need this," the attendant said. "It's attuned to the Rift fragments. Not perfectly but close enough. It'll point you toward growing magical anomalies."
Seralyn took it silently. Kaela was already shouldering her bag, swinging it over one shoulder with an easy grace that made Seralyn irrationally annoyed.
Seer Valryn descended the temple stairs in silence. Her presence still commanded every breeze.
"The Blasted Wastes stir first," she said. "The earth there rejects all things born of the Veil, which means your bond will agitate it."
Kaela folded her arms. "You mean it'll try to kill us."
Valryn did not deny it. "You must retrieve what lies buried beneath the Obsidian Hollows. The first true fragment. If it surfaces, it will not do so gently."
"Of course not," Kaela muttered.
Seralyn stared out past the temple gates. The path ahead wasn't a road, not really more a suggestion of one. Faded runestones half-swallowed by dying grass marked the beginning of what once was a major ley-route, long since scorched by magical conflict. Beyond it lay miles of hostile terrain, warped by past wars and latent power.
She exhaled.
"Let's move."
---
The first day of travel was silent.
The Blasted Wastes began slowly at first, a dry wind, then a change in the air's density. The further they walked, the more the land lost color. Trees became gnarled bones of bark. Grass faded to gray. Even the sky dulled, as if drained of light.
There was no birdsong. No rustle of life. Just wind, and the faint, static buzz of magic gone wrong.
They kept a tense distance. Kaela walked several paces behind Seralyn, humming an old battle hymn in a deliberately off-key fashion. Seralyn never let her hand drift far from her blade. The silence between them was brittle as glass.
By midday, they passed the remains of a traveler's shrine an ancient stone carved with faded prayers. The sigil on their palms glowed faintly in its presence.
"That's old," Kaela said, crouching beside it. "Before the Dominion. Maybe even before the First Accord."
"Then let it rest," Seralyn said. "We're not here to poke through graves."
Kaela brushed her fingers across the symbol. "History isn't a grave, Commander. It's a mirror. You might not like what you see in it."
They moved on.
They made camp by a half-collapsed waystone at sunset, its runes dim with age. Seralyn set up her warding stones while Kaela collected kindling most of it brittle, barely usable.
"Charming landscape," Kaela said, flicking a flame into the pile. "If I die out here, tell the world it was ugly."
"You assume you'll die before me," Seralyn replied.
Kaela smiled over the fire. "I'm betting on it. You have more reasons to live. Duty. Country. That very stiff spine of yours."
Seralyn didn't reply. She sat on a flat stone, eyes scanning the horizon, fingers subconsciously tracing the compass now clipped to her belt. Its needle had begun to quiver sometime after nightfall.
They ate in silence. Kaela eventually lay back against her pack and stared at the swirling dusk clouds overhead.
"Why do you think it chose us?" she asked suddenly.
Seralyn looked up. "You said it wasn't supposed to bind. That you wanted a memory, not a curse."
"I did."
Seralyn narrowed her eyes. "What were you really trying to do?"
Kaela turned her head, gold eyes meeting hers. "Save someone."
"Who?"
Kaela didn't answer.
Instead, she turned her gaze back to the sky.
"A long time ago, I was told the Rift magic was unpredictable but... occasionally merciful. I thought maybe just maybe it would listen. That it would give something back, not take more."
"It gave us this," Seralyn said, holding up her marked hand. The glow pulsed faintly in response.
Kaela's laugh was low and bitter. "Careful what you wish for."
Eventually, Seralyn stood and walked out beyond the ward-line. Her boots crunched over glassy dirt. The sky above shimmered with traces of magic fragments of old spells still drifting like ghosts.
She opened her palm.
The sigil pulsed again.
Something stirred beneath her feet.
She stilled.
The ground vibrated not from an earthquake, but from breath.
"Kaela," she said sharply.
The witch was already on her feet.
A low rumble echoed beneath them. The dirt cracked. Steam hissed from the fissures.
And then the beast erupted from the earth.
It was not of flesh. It was bone and molten rock, held together by magic so ancient it wept crimson light. Its maw split open in three jagged directions, and the stench of rot and fire flooded the air.
The heat was suffocating. The ground quaked under the weight of the creature's presence. Its spine was a jagged ridge of broken swords fused into obsidian. Every step scorched the earth.
"Back!" Seralyn shouted, drawing her blade. The air around it shimmered with wind magic.
Kaela flung a barrier spell, but it shattered under the beast's weight. The creature reared, roaring, sigil-light glowing in its chest. It wasn't just drawn to the bond.
It recognized it.
The sigil on Seralyn's hand flared bright. So did Kaela's. The beast paused. Its gaze locked on them.
It was not a random attack.
It was a summons.
"Seralyn," Kaela said slowly, stepping beside her. "I think this one was waiting."
"For us?"
Kaela nodded grimly. "Or for the mark."
The corrupted beast lowered its head. The air crackled.
Then it charged.