The journey eastward began at dawn.
Elira moved like someone who had walked the same path a thousand times. Her steps never faltered, her gaze was always forward. Kael followed, his breath visible in the cold mountain air, his body aching from the battle with the Hollow Wraiths.
But pain was a companion he had grown used to.
"What exactly is this Spire?" Kael finally asked, breaking the silence that had stretched for hours.
Elira didn't answer right away.
Instead, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a thin metal disk. She tossed it to him. Kael caught it mid-air and studied it—a coin-shaped relic, engraved with the same winged sword that had appeared on the monolith.
"It's not just a tower," Elira said. "It's a prison. A key. A warning."
"That's not helpful," Kael muttered.
"It wasn't meant to be."
They continued walking through the trees until the forest gave way to a ledge overlooking the vast plains below. And in the distance—rising like a jagged fang toward the heavens—stood a tower of black stone, surrounded by swirling storms that never moved. Lightning cracked above its peak, yet no thunder followed.
Kael stared in silence. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"Doesn't look very inviting."
"It's not."
They descended the mountain slowly, their path winding through ruined watchtowers and ancient stone roads, half-buried by snow and time. The remnants of the old kingdom. Kael recognized some of the banners etched into stone—his family's sigil among them.
"These were ours once," he said quietly.
"All things were, once," Elira replied. "But then came the Severance."
Kael stopped. "I've heard that word before."
"Everyone has. But no one understands it."
"Do you?"
She didn't answer.
A cold wind howled past them, and Kael pulled his cloak tighter. In the silence, he could hear the faintest hum—like voices carried on the wind. He turned to Elira. "Do you hear that?"
Her expression darkened.
"They've started to notice you."
Kael blinked. "Who?"
"The Hollow Ones were just scouts," she said. "There are worse things."
"Like what?"
"The ones who never died… only slept."
They walked for hours more before making camp near the edge of a frozen lake. Kael gathered wood, and Elira struck the fire with a spark of light from her fingers—an enchantment, simple and precise.
"You use magic like it's breathing," Kael observed.
She didn't respond.
"Why did you help me?" he asked, finally.
Still, silence.
"Elira."
She looked at him. "Because I thought I was the last one."
"…The last what?"
"Severed."
Kael stared. "You think I'm like you?"
"I know you are. The sword wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."
Kael looked down at the blade resting against his knee. "I didn't ask for this."
"None of us did."
She stood and turned away, staring out over the lake.
"When the Spire fell, it didn't just destroy a city. It tore reality. Broke the Veil. Everything that died began to echo. The Hollows, the Wraiths… they're just memories that forgot how to fade."
Kael ran a hand through his hair. "And now they want me?"
"No," she said. "They want what's inside you."
He frowned. "Inside?"
Elira nodded. "You were born with it dormant. But the sword woke it. That spark… that fracture. It makes you a light in the dark. And the dark remembers the ones who burn."
Kael's hands curled into fists.
He didn't know what to believe anymore. Was he chosen? Cursed? A tool? A weapon?
Or all of the above?
He sat down beside the fire and stared at the flames, watching how they flickered with the same blue hue as the runes on his sword.
"Then I suppose I'll have to become strong enough to fight it."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "You think strength alone will save you?"
"No," he said. "But it's a damn good place to start."
She sat across from him, a ghost of a smile flickering on her lips.
"You remind me of someone," she said.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Another Severed?"
She nodded. "My brother."
"What happened to him?"
Her smile vanished. "He tried to stop the Spire. It stopped him instead."
The fire crackled between them, and neither spoke again that night.
At sunrise, they approached the outer edges of the Spire's influence.
It began with silence.
No birds. No wind. No snow falling.
Just a complete stillness that pressed in on their chests like a weight.
The ground turned black and glassy, as if scorched. Trees stood twisted into unnatural shapes—like they'd grown toward something only they could see.
Kael kept his hand near the hilt of his sword.
Then he saw it.
A corpse nailed to a tree.
No blood.
No wounds.
Just hollow eyes and a mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Dozens more followed.
Markers of the border between the world of men… and the domain of the Spire.
"Gods," Kael breathed.
"Don't look too long," Elira warned. "They watch through the dead."
Kael turned his gaze forward.
"I'm not afraid."
"You will be," she said.
They continued forward.
One step closer to answers.
And perhaps, to the end.