---
The wind howled through the narrow passes of Duskcliff, dragging dust and whispers across stone. High above, cliffs formed sharp teeth—jagged and gray, a natural fortress carved by ancient magic.
Riven stood atop a ridge, overlooking the basin below.
There, the enemy moved.
Dark-armored soldiers.
Obsidian-plated wagons.
A warlord riding a beast with three eyes and two jaws.
An Eclipse Order caravan.
"They're early," Lucen muttered beside him, adjusting the straps on his gauntlet.
"They knew we were coming," Riven said.
Behind them, Seris's elite guards waited in silence, bows drawn, blades at the ready.
But Riven's eyes scanned for something—or someone—else.
And then he saw him.
Descending from the western slope, cloaked in ash and silence.
Kael.
---
He looked different.
Tired. Cold. Eyes harder than before.
He didn't speak as he approached.
Just handed Riven a folded slip of parchment.
Riven opened it.
A sketch. A girl. White hair. Crimson robes.
Lyra.
His lips parted. "She's—"
"With them," Kael said.
Riven looked up.
"Are you ready?"
Kael drew his blade.
"No."
He smiled faintly.
"But I'm here."
---
The Eclipse Warlord raised his axe high as the caravan began to cross the canyon.
Flames flared from his gauntlet—black fire, shaped like chains.
Riven stepped forward.
"Archers. Ready."
Seris's guards pulled taut.
"On my mark," Riven said.
Kael turned to him. "What if Lyra's among them?"
"She isn't," Riven said, eyes distant. "She's watching. Testing you."
Kael said nothing.
Then—
"Now."
---
Arrows flew.
Steel sang.
Screams echoed through the canyon.
The first line of Eclipse soldiers fell quickly, caught in the trap they hadn't expected—pinched from both sides, fire erupting from the cliffs above, blades falling from the mist below.
But the Warlord did not fall.
He roared—and the Seal fragment embedded in his chest blazed crimson.
His armor melted into his skin.
His flesh twisted.
And in his hand, the axe became a serpent of flame.
---
Riven leapt from the ridge, Ashrend in hand, a comet of fury and fire.
They met in the basin's heart—steel on cursed flame, echo against corruption.
The Warlord was strong. Fast. His blows shattered boulders. His fire warped the earth.
But Riven was more than fire now.
He called upon the Seal of Sand—time slowed.
He dodged left. Struck. Echoes rippled.
> "Your fire is borrowed," he growled. "Mine was earned."
With one final strike, he shattered the corrupted Seal, ripping it from the Warlord's chest.
The man collapsed, howling.
And silence followed.
---
The battle was won.
But the victory was bitter.
Kael stood over the fallen, blade shaking.
"She's changed," he said.
"I know."
"She's not… her anymore."
"She's still in there," Riven said quietly. "You'll have to decide what she's worth."
Kael nodded slowly.
And said nothing more.
---
Later, as night fell over the canyon, Riven sat by the remains of the Eclipse caravan, studying the broken Seal fragment.
It pulsed faintly, like a dying ember.
> "It was crafted," Veyron said suddenly.
Riven froze.
> "You're back."
> "Not gone. Just... watching. The Order is shaping false Seals. They're forging power—badly."
Riven clenched his fist.
"Then we stop them."
> "You can't destroy a mountain by burning leaves," Veyron whispered. "You'll need to find the root. And the root lies deeper than you know."
---
The stars blinked overhead.
And in the distance, a white-haired girl watched the flames from atop a high cliff—expression unreadable, eyes burning with something too old to name.
Lyra.
She turned.
And disappeared into the dark.
---