The night air carried the tang of ash and steel as Kael tore through the forest, branches snapping underfoot. His cloak whipped behind him, catching on twigs, but he did not slow. The sky above was cracked with streaks of violet light, a sure sign that the rift was expanding. Every moment wasted meant more corruption bleeding into the world. His boots struck the soft earth in a rhythmic pound, his breath quickening. Somewhere ahead, the enemy camped, and within it lay the key to reversing what had begun.
By the time he reached the ridge overlooking the clearing, Kael's mind was already mapping possible approaches. Torches dotted the enemy perimeter like fiery eyes. Figures in blackened armor moved in precise patterns, patrolling in pairs. Their movements were too disciplined for common mercenaries. These were trained soldiers of the Dominion, the same force that had once hunted him across the Ashen Plains. He spotted their supply carts loaded with crates carved with arcane sigils, likely containing the catalysts for the rift's instability. Destroying them could delay the breach, but it would also draw every blade in the camp toward him.
He slid down the slope quietly, his hands brushing the dirt to steady himself. The first sentry passed within a few feet, unaware of Kael's presence until the moment a sharp twist of his wrist sent the man collapsing silently. Kael dragged the body into the shadow of a tree, eyes already scanning for the next target. This was no time for prolonged stealth. If he was to succeed, the blow had to be decisive. His fingers traced the familiar grooves of his weapon's hilt before drawing it free. The blade's edge shimmered faintly with the sigils he had etched earlier, their faint blue light pulsing like a heartbeat.
He moved like a shadow between tents, cutting down two more guards before the alarm finally rose. A horn blared, deep and resonant, followed by shouts and the ringing clash of steel. Kael's body shifted into combat rhythm. He sidestepped a spear thrust, countered with a slicing upward strike, and kicked the attacker's collapsing form into another soldier. Blood misted in the torchlight. He could feel the rift's hum even here, a low vibration pressing against his bones.
The crates were close. He could see their glowing runes now, pulsing in time with the sky above. But a new figure stepped between him and his goal. Tall, wrapped in crimson robes over blackened armor, the figure's face was hidden beneath a polished mask marked with jagged silver lines. The air around them was heavy with mana, so thick it made Kael's skin prickle. The masked figure's voice carried easily over the chaos, deep and measured.
"I wondered when you would come, prodigy."
Kael did not answer. Words would gain him nothing. He surged forward, his blade clashing against the enemy's staff. Sparks flew as steel and enchanted iron met. The masked figure's movements were precise, almost calculated, turning Kael's attacks aside with infuriating ease. A sudden pulse of energy erupted from the staff, throwing Kael back several paces. He skidded on the dirt, catching himself just before hitting the ground.
"You were always meant to serve," the figure continued. "You cannot fight what you were made to be."
Kael lunged again, weaving his attacks in unpredictable patterns, forcing the masked enemy to shift their stance. Their defense cracked for a moment, allowing Kael's blade to bite into their side. A hiss of pain escaped the mask, but instead of retreating, they pressed forward, channeling raw mana into the ground. The earth cracked, and tendrils of shadow erupted, whipping toward Kael. He rolled aside, slashing through one, but another coiled around his arm, burning with cold. Gritting his teeth, he poured his own mana into his blade, the etched sigils flaring as he severed the binding tendril.
The camp was in chaos now. Fires spread from overturned torches, smoke rising in dark columns. Soldiers shouted orders that were drowned out by the sounds of battle. Kael seized the opening, leaping past the masked opponent toward the supply crates. One strike after another shattered the sigils, releasing bursts of unstable energy that ripped through the air. The rift above flickered, the violet cracks dimming for the briefest moment.
But the victory was short-lived. A heavy force slammed into Kael from behind, sending him sprawling. The masked figure loomed over him, staff raised for a final blow. Kael twisted, grabbed a fallen dagger, and drove it upward. The blade sank deep into the gap between armor plates. The masked figure staggered, dropping the staff. Kael rose, kicking the weapon away, and ripped the mask free.
The face beneath was not what he expected. A young woman, perhaps no older than himself, eyes sharp and burning with something between fury and despair. She bared her teeth in a grim smile.
"You think this changes anything? The breach has already begun."
Kael's grip tightened. "Then I will end it."
Before she could speak again, he struck. Her body went limp, collapsing to the dirt. Around them, the Dominion soldiers were retreating, some dragging wounded, others fleeing into the trees. Kael retrieved the enemy's staff, feeling the dark mana still coursing through it. It would be dangerous to keep, but even more dangerous to leave in their hands.
The rift above continued to churn, though its pace had slowed. Kael knew he had bought time, but not much. He turned and left the burning camp behind, vanishing into the trees before reinforcements could arrive.
By the time he reached the outer hills, the first hints of dawn tinged the horizon. His muscles ached, and his thoughts were weighed down by the woman's words. If she was right, then this was only the first step in something far larger. The Dominion would not stop. And now, they knew exactly where to find him.
Kael tightened his grip on the staff and pressed on. There was only one place he could go now, a place he had avoided for years. If the breach was truly inevitable, he would need more than skill and cunning to stop it. He would need power. And that meant returning to the last place he swore never to see again.
The air turned heavy as the chamber doors slammed shut behind Kael, the deep metallic clang reverberating through the torchlit hall. There was no time to breathe. Shadows moved along the walls, flickering unnaturally against the firelight. He tightened his grip on the runeblade, every nerve ready to strike.
From the far end of the room, the High Inquisitor emerged, cloaked in black and wearing a mask carved like a snarling beast. His voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. "So the outcast returns."
Kael didn't respond. His eyes locked on the glowing crystal mounted behind the Inquisitor, the same crystal that pulsed with the magic stolen from his family's bloodline. That was his target.
The Inquisitor lifted a hand and the floor trembled. Jagged pillars of stone burst upward, forcing Kael to leap aside. He rolled and came up slashing, sending a streak of dark energy across the floor, but the Inquisitor deflected it with a lazy twist of his staff. "You think you can take back what you've already lost?"
Kael's answer was a dash forward. Steel met steel as the Inquisitor's weapon caught his blade mid-swing. Sparks lit the air. Kael drove his knee upward, breaking the deadlock, and pivoted to land a slicing blow toward the Inquisitor's ribs. But the man vanished in a ripple of shadow and reappeared behind him.
The first hit came fast — a crushing blast of magic to the spine. Kael stumbled forward but twisted, letting the momentum spin him into a reverse slash. His blade caught the Inquisitor's shoulder, tearing fabric and flesh.
The High Inquisitor hissed but didn't falter. "You've grown," he admitted, stepping back. His mask tilted, as if sizing Kael up. "But you're still too slow."
Before Kael could move, shadow-tentacles erupted from the ground, wrapping around his legs. He slashed them apart, but another wave followed instantly. The Inquisitor was pressing him hard, forcing him onto the defensive.
"Enough!" Kael roared, his runeblade flaring with dark crimson light. The shadows froze for a fraction of a second, and he seized the moment. In one fluid motion, he cut them away, sprinted across the floor, and drove his blade into the crystal.
The impact shook the hall. Cracks spread like lightning through the crystal, and a surge of raw magic burst outward. The shockwave hurled both combatants to opposite ends of the room.
Kael hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet. The Inquisitor's mask was cracked, revealing a single gray eye burning with fury. The crystal's light was dimming, its power slipping away.
"You've doomed yourself," the Inquisitor spat, lifting his staff for a final strike.
Kael didn't wait. He charged, meeting the attack head-on. Magic and steel collided in a blinding explosion, and the chamber plunged into darkness.