The aftermath of the battle left Frostveil in smoldering ruin. The scent of blood and burnt timber lingered in the air as Nikos, Zara, Ali, and Vaelin surveyed what remained of the village. Though Varok had been defeated, his last words haunted Nikos. "Your kind was meant to die long ago." There was a deeper truth buried within that statement—one he could not ignore.
"We need to move," Vaelin urged, his storm-forged spear still crackling with residual energy. "Skellith's forces won't let this slide. Reinforcements will come."
Zara wiped her twin daggers clean on a fallen enemy's cloak. "Then we head east. There's an abandoned temple in the Vale of Echoes. It's said to hold relics of the past."
Ali flicked his tail, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Relics, huh? Sounds like trouble."
Nikos sheathed his blade, his mind already set. "Then it's exactly where we need to go."
The journey to the Vale of Echoes took them through dense forests and forgotten ruins. Along the way, Nikos found himself drawn to Vaelin, the warrior from Voltaris. His power was unlike anything Nikos had encountered—raw, tempestuous, and yet controlled with precise mastery.
"You fight as if the storm itself obeys your will," Nikos remarked as they made camp one evening.
Vaelin smirked. "And you fight like someone carrying a legacy they don't fully understand."
Nikos frowned. "What do you mean?"
Vaelin leaned against a tree, his silver eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Aetherborn. The last remnants of a power long thought lost. You're a living contradiction, Nikos. And contradictions tend to shake the foundations of fate."
Nikos didn't reply, but he felt the weight of those words settle in his chest.
As dawn broke, they reached the temple—an ancient structure of crumbling stone and forgotten glyphs. The air was thick with energy, humming with unseen forces. Ali shivered. "I don't like this place."
Zara stepped forward, running her fingers along the carvings. "These markings… they speak of a relic hidden within."
Before anyone could respond, a gust of unnatural wind howled through the temple. Shadows twisted, coalescing into a figure draped in blackened robes, eyes gleaming with void-born malice.
"You seek the past," the figure intoned. "But beware… for the past is never truly buried."
Nikos drew his blade, the weight of destiny pressing upon him once more. The trials were far from over.