They arrived at Vareth-Kai after departing Veldrith. The city's people were gathered around a shattered fountain, its stonework cracked and water long dried. Upon the ridge of the broken basin, a man stood tall and declared the news: the fall of the tyrant Merchant King.
A roar broke through the square. People wept in joy, clapped their hands, and danced in circles, as though a great chain had finally been lifted from their necks. It was a sight Vareth-Kai had not seen in years.
At a distance, in the shadow of an alley, Cassius spotted Stryx. Their eyes met. Stryx stepped forward, weaving through the cheering crowd until he stood before their horses. His gaze was lighter than before, touched with relief.
He paused, then with a faint smile said:
Stryx: "You are truly an amusing person."
Cassius and his companions dismounted. Cassius tilted his head.
Cassius: "You haven't returned to the stronghold?"
Stryx shook his head.
Stryx: "No. I was preparing for backup... but it seems that won't be needed anymore."
He gestured toward the square, then urged them to rest in one of the city's inns.
Korvek smirked as he adjusted his axe on his shoulder.
Korvek: "You won't put us in trouble like last time, will you?"
A ripple of laughter passed through the group, even Stryx chuckling faintly.
The next morning, before their departure, Cassius drew Stryx aside. His tone is firmer now.
Cassius: "Keep an eye on the city. If you see anything suspicious, send word to me at once."
Stryx nodded.
Stryx: "Consider it done."
With that, Cassius and his group mounted their horses again, the road stretching onward. The joy of Vareth-Kai rang behind them, but their path lay ahead—toward shadows yet unseen.
---
After several days of travel, they reached the East Woods, a forest at the edge of the Veldrith Kingdom. It was unlike the dark, haunted Mist Forest they had crossed on their way in. Here the trees stretched wide with green crowns, their branches alive with sound. Cassius heard birdsong echoing above. On a nearby branch, a mother bird bent to feed her chicks.
By the time they entered the woods, the sun had begun to sink. The moon already hung pale in the sky, and stars shimmered faintly through the canopy. They knew they had little time to find shelter.
Varcen broke the silence.
Varcen: "We need a place to light fire."
They pressed deeper into the forest. Though the woods were vast, they were not menacing. Monkeys darted across branches, birds scattered through the leaves, and the glowing eyes of small wolves flickered between the trees.
The group spread out to scout. Before long, they came upon a ruin, half-swallowed by grass and bush. Its broken stone walls slanted beneath creeping vines, almost hidden from sight. The ground around it lay flat enough for their tents.
Korvek scratched his chin, then grinned.
Korvek: "This looks good enough. I'll clear the grass and bushes. No bugs in my bed, thank you."
He hacked away at the brush while the others prepared the campsite. They cleared space around a fallen beam, setting it as a makeshift bench.
Korvek: "I'll search for fruit and berries."
Korvek announced, disappearing into the trees.
Cassius, Elric, and Varcen gathered twigs, branches, and stones. Soon a campfire crackled to life, its glow spilling across the ruin's shadowed face. They had already checked the structure to ensure no snakes hid within, and the fire's smoke kept the mosquitoes at bay.
Elric and Varcen poked at the flames with sticks, feeding it carefully. Cassius sat quietly beside them on the beam, his eyes fixed on the fire as though searching for answers in its glow.
Elric turned his head.
Elric: "What are you thinking, boy?"
Cassius shook his head slowly, then muttered:
Cassius: "Catalyst. What exactly is it? How... no, why did I become a Catalyst?"
The fire cracked. Cassius's gaze hardened as he turned toward them.
Cassius: "Master Elric. Captain Varcen. What really happened in the war? How did my father become a King? We are no king's blood."
His voice carried weight this time—not doubt, but demand. His eyes burned into theirs, refusing to be turned aside.
The fire crackled in the ruined clearing, sparks dancing upward into the velvet sky. For a long while, only the sound of the flames and the rustle of night creatures filled the air. Then, at last, Elric spoke. His voice was heavy, pulled down by memory.
Elric: "Your father, Varcen, and I... we were commanding officers in the King's army. The orders were simple: kill those who stood in the way of Ashenhold. We obeyed, as soldiers must. But what we saw on the battlefield... it was a horror no man should ever witness."
His hand tightened on his knee, knuckles pale.
Elric: "It began with a tremor beneath our feet. Then—a grinding, tearing scream of iron that made my teeth ache. One of their machines, a towering block of pistons and iron, burst through the castle's outer wall. The stone didn't just fall—it screamed as it shattered."
Varcen shuddered, his fists clenched so hard his veins stood out.
Varcen: "I was at the south gate that day. My men weren't facing numbers like Elric's, but the fear... gods, the fear froze us. Then we heard it. Not a roar, not a command—just a voice. A voice of pure defiance that cuts through the shrieks of the monsters and the roar of the collapsing wall. It was your father's voice. He didn't just speak—he gave us permission to be brave."
Elric's eyes glimmered in the firelight.
Elric: "The fear never left us. But it was buried under rage and adrenaline. We charged. The sun was high when it began... but long gone by the time the last beast lay decapitated and the final machine was blasted to twisted scrap. We stood in a graveyard of broken steel and torn bodies, the air thick with blood and ozone."
He drew a slow breath, as though the smoke of that battle still clung to his lungs.
Varcen (whispering): "And when we limped back inside the castle walls... we found something we never imagined. The King was dead. A sword in his chest."
Cassius's brows furrowed. A memory clawed at the edges of his mind—one of the visions the relic had shown him. But he said nothing.
Cassius: "Then how did my father become king? What of the King's child?"
Elric's gaze turned somber.
Elric: "The queen died giving birth to the prince. The boy lived only a handful of days before illness took him. The King was broken, and though many women came forward when word spread that he needed a queen, he refused them all. He grew hollow. And when he died, the throne stood empty. The people, the army—every soldier who had followed him—turned to Marko. At first the council resisted. But there was no heir. And the elders... they knew the truth. They had seen Marko's command on the battlefield. In the end, they placed the crown upon him."
At that moment, Korvek returned, his tunic stuffed with treasures of the forest. He dropped a handful of fruits onto the beam they had made into a bench—plump sunberries, tart wild grapes, and a couple of small apples.
Korvek (grinning faintly): "We all saw it. His leadership. His strength. Your father, Marko, was the only man worthy of that throne."
Cassius took a moment to breathe, his chest heavy with the weight of their words. Then he asked-
Cassius: "What about the Catalyst? Did he participate in that war?"
Elric shook his head slowly.
Elric: "No. In fact, we do not know to this day who the Catalyst truly was. The rumor of him began spreading around that time, but no one had ever seen him. People say he was a savior — a light in the dark. Yet his face remains a mystery."
Cassius's mind flickered back to the silver figure he had glimpsed in his vision.
Varcen leaned forward, his tone hushed.
Varcen: "When we were fighting those grotesque monsters and machines, we did see something strange — a blinding light that split the skies. Locals claimed it came from the central plains, near the Dukedom of Eryndor. But by the time we reached it, the land was gone... reduced to ruins. After that day, no one ever saw the Catalyst again."
The fire crackled between them, throwing shadows against the ruin's stone walls. None of them spoke for a while, as if the night itself was holding its breath. Cassius stared into the flames, his hand tightening around the relic at his side. A savior... a light in the dark. The words rang in his head, both a comfort and a burden. He wondered if the relic knew the truth — and if he was ready to bear it.
The group ate the fruits and berries in silence. The fire burned low. Past midnight, they retired to their tents, each chest weighed heavy with memory. Outside, Elric, Varcen, and Korvek took turns on the watch.
Inside his tent, Cassius clutched the relic to his chest as he lay curled in his sleeping bag. His voice was low, trembling.
Cassius (whispering): "I still don't know what you are."
A single tear traced down his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging him toward sleep.
Cassius (murmuring): "...Soren."
The relic pulsed faintly, glowing for the briefest moment. Then, as if sharing his sorrow, it dimmed.
---
The morning light spilled across Ashenhold's battered walls, painting the stone in shades of pale gold. Within the keep, the air was heavy with unease.
Verran arrived ahead of Cassius, his cloak still dusted with the road. Without pause, he strode into the throne chamber where King Marko sat in quiet counsel. His voice cut through the silence.
Verran: "My Lord. The boy carries the relic. You know what that means. It should be destroyed. That cursed thing brought ruin once before—half of Genesis, half of Heaven itself, burned for it. Do not let history repeat itself."
Marko's hands tightened on the arms of his chair. His brow furrowed, but his gaze did not waver.
Marko: "You speak with conviction, Councillor Verran, but your words are shadowed with fear. I cannot act on fear alone. Not yet."
Verran leaned forward, his eyes sharp, almost desperate.
Verran: "Fear? No, My Lord. This is memory. You have witnessed the horror, when the earth split under their weight. That boy is walking toward the same abyss."
Before Marko could respond, the heavy doors creaked open. A young messenger hurried in, breathless and pale. He bowed low, his words stumbling out.
Messenger: "My King! Scouts have sighted strange creatures near Hollowponds, across the mountains of Ashenhold. Not beasts of the woods, nor anything we've seen before."
The council chamber stirred. Marko rose slowly, his expression turning grim.
Marko: "Send riders. I want eyes on the Hollowponds before nightfall."
The guards bowed and departed swiftly. Verran's gaze lingered on Marko, his warning still echoing in the chamber.
The King stood in silence for a long moment, his thoughts divided between the relic... and the shadows stirring to the south.
---
Meanwhile, in the Val'Serene Empire, the Grand Hall blazed with light. Marble columns soared upward, their surfaces gilded so richly that the chamber seemed less a hall and more a fragment of the sun itself. Intricate mosaics shimmered across the floor, and every polished surface reflected the glow of the Empire's wealth and power.
At the center, upon a vast golden throne, sat Emperor Thalarus Veynar. Though past his prime, nearing sixty winters, his stature remained formidable. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and draped in robes woven with threads of flame-red and white, colors that symbolized purity and conquest in Val'Serene. His once-black hair had turned to steel-gray, and a neatly kept beard framed a face lined with age but sharpened by authority. His eyes, a piercing amber, seemed to burn with the weight of judgment.
Around him, council members and venerable elders sat in their places, their robes rustling as they exchanged hurried whispers. All spoke of the same matter — the fall of the Merchant King. Some saw opportunity, others risk, but all agreed that the balance of power was shifting.
Thalarus raised his hand, silencing them. His voice rolled across the hall, steady and commanding.
Emperor Thalarus: "The fall of one king may unbalance many. The shadows of chaos spread quickly. You will monitor the borderlands, the villages, the passes — everything. I want no spark to grow into flame without my knowledge. Report to me at once."
The council bowed in unison. One by one, they withdrew, their footsteps echoing against the radiant walls, until the chamber lay quiet.
At the foot of the throne, the Archon remained. When the Emperor leaned slightly forward, his words were a whisper only the Archon could hear.
Emperor Thalarus: "Your plan... tell me again."
The Archon's lips curved into the faintest of smiles as he whispered back.
Archon: "You need not to worry, O Great Emperor. The world will kneel. Before us. Before Val'Serene."
Thalarus's eyes narrowed. His reply was cold, measured, the weight of centuries of empire behind it.
Emperor Thalarus: "Then see that it does not fail. Should it falter, Archon, the consequences will be yours to bear."
He rose, his golden mantle flowing behind him, and strode toward his private chambers. The Archon stayed kneeling, his head bowed, though in his silence the corners of his mouth twitched with something between obedience and ambition.
---
At last, after long days of travel, Cassius and his companions saw the walls of Ashenhold rising in the distance. Relief washed over him, though it was tinged with unease.
The city did not look the same.
Smoke curled from the watchtowers, thin plumes carried by the wind. Along the battlements, guards shifted uneasily, their armor clinking as orders were shouted back and forth. The air felt heavier here, as though the city itself was bracing for something unseen.
Cassius slowed his horse.
Cassius: "What's going on...?"
At the gates, a weary guard stepped forward. He bowed stiffly before Cassius and the others, his voice low but urgent.
Guard: "My lord, strange creatures have been sighted near the Hollowponds. The scouts have yet to return."
Cassius's heart tightened. The name stirred something in him — a place he had heard whispered of but never seen. He looked back at Elric, Varcen, and Korvek. Each wore the same grim expression.
The guard's eyes flickered to the relic at Cassius's side, glowing faintly under the firelight of the torches. He hesitated, then quickly stepped aside, granting them passage.
The group entered Ashenhold. The familiar streets now felt different — quieter, shadows clinging to doorways, people moving in hushed tones.
For Cassius, relief at coming home gave way to something else: a weight, a sense that what awaited him within these walls was no longer sanctuary, but trial.
As the gates closed behind them, the torches along the wall flared against the sky, their flames bending with the wind. Somewhere across the mountains, at the Hollowponds, a cry echoed faintly through the dark.
Cassius shivered. He could not tell if it was the sound of man, beast, or something far worse.
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