Kael's POV
The dragon-wraith struck at midnight.
We'd made camp in the ruins' outer circle—crumbling stone walls that offered some shelter from the wind. Ashira took first watch while I tried to sleep, knowing I'd probably die tomorrow.
I was wrong. I'd die tonight.
The attack came silently. One second, Ashira was sitting by the fire. The next, a massive translucent dragon exploded through the wall, its ghostly jaws clamping around her.
"ASHIRA!"
I grabbed my sword—the one Ashira had insisted I carry despite not knowing how to use it—and charged.
Stupid. So stupid.
The dragon-wraith turned its dead eyes on me. Up close, I could see through its body—bones and organs made of blue-white light, battle scars glowing like frozen lightning. It had been magnificent once. Now it was just rage and hunger given form.
It dropped Ashira and lunged at me.
I dove sideways, purely on instinct. The wraith's claws scraped rock where I'd been standing, leaving trails of frost.
"Kael, RUN!" Ashira was up, blood streaming from her shoulder where the wraith's teeth had caught her.
"I'm not leaving you!"
"You can't fight it! You'll just—"
The wraith's tail whipped around, catching her in the ribs. She flew backward, slamming into a pillar. Didn't get up.
Rage replaced my fear. This thing had hurt her.
"HEY!" I screamed at the wraith. "Over here, you oversized lizard!"
The dragon turned, and I saw intelligence in its eyes. Not animal instinct—actual thought. It knew what it was doing.
It knew I was about to die.
The wraith charged, jaws wide enough to swallow me whole. I couldn't move fast enough. Couldn't think fast enough.
Time slowed. I saw my death approaching in translucent teeth and ancient fury.
Then something inside me broke open.
Heat erupted from my chest—not painful, but shocking. Blue light poured from my hands, forming patterns in the air I didn't understand but somehow recognized. The symbols from Elder Thokk's book. Warden signs.
"STOP!" The word came out wrapped in power.
The dragon-wraith slammed into an invisible wall three feet from me. It thrashed, shrieking, trying to push through whatever barrier I'd created.
I stared at my glowing hands in shock. "What the—"
"Kael!" Ashira limped over, eyes wide. "You're manifesting! Your Warden blood is waking up!"
"I don't know what I'm doing!"
"Figure it out fast! That barrier won't hold forever!"
She was right. Already I felt the power draining, like bleeding from a wound I couldn't see. The wraith pushed harder against the barrier, cracks forming in the blue light.
"There has to be a way to banish it!" I looked around desperately. We were standing in a circle of ancient stones, carved with more of those same symbols. "These markings—they're Warden signs too!"
"So use them!"
"I don't know how!"
The barrier shattered.
The wraith lunged.
Ashira shoved me aside, taking the hit meant for me. Claws raked her back, tearing through leather and flesh. She screamed.
"NO!" Something primal roared awake inside me. The power that had been trickling became a flood.
I slammed my hands against the nearest carved stone and felt it respond. Ancient magic, sleeping for centuries, blazed to life. The entire stone circle erupted in blue light, symbols burning like stars.
The dragon-wraith shrieked—not in rage now, but in pain.
Words poured from my mouth in a language I'd never learned: "By blood and bone, by ancient oath, return to rest!"
The wraith writhed, its form destabilizing. For a moment, I saw past the rage—saw the dragon it had been. Proud. Noble. Murdered in a war it hadn't started.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry they did this to you."
The rage in its eyes softened. Just for a second.
Then it dissolved into light and faded away.
The stone circle went dark. I collapsed, completely drained. Ashira crawled over, her back a mess of blood and torn flesh.
"You did it," she gasped. "You actually banished it."
"Are you okay?"
"Stupid question. I'm bleeding everywhere." But she smiled through the pain. "You just used ancient Warden magic without any training. That's... that's supposed to be impossible."
"Everything about my life is impossible lately." I pulled out the medical supplies from our pack, my hands shaking. "Let me see your back."
She turned, and I almost vomited. The wraith's claws had cut deep—bone-deep in some places. She should be dying.
"It's not as bad as it looks," she lied.
"Don't move. Please." I cleaned the wounds as gently as I could, but she still hissed in pain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing. You saved my life." She looked back at me, amber eyes glowing in the fading firelight. "That's twice now. First from execution, now from dragon-wraiths. You're making it really hard to hate humans."
"Good. Because I'm really bad at being hated."
Despite her injuries, she laughed. Then winced. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."
I finished bandaging her back. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold. "We need to rest. Actually rest. Those wraiths know we're here now."
"Agreed. But we take turns on watch this time." She grabbed my hand before I could pull away. "Kael... thank you. For not leaving me. For fighting even though you don't know how. For being..." She paused, searching for words. "For being you."
Our faces were inches apart. I could feel her breath, see the flecks of gold in her amber eyes. For a moment, the war didn't matter. The conspiracy didn't matter. Just her.
Then she pulled back, clearing her throat. "Get some sleep. We have dragon-wraiths to avoid and artifacts to find tomorrow."
"Right. Sleep. Definitely possible after that."
But surprisingly, exhaustion pulled me under within minutes.
I woke to Ashira shaking me roughly. "Up! Now!"
Dawn was breaking. And someone else had found us.
Three figures stood at the edge of our camp. Not dragon-wraiths. Not orcs. Not human soldiers.
They looked human, but wrong. Their skin had a greyish tint. Their eyes glowed faintly red. And when they smiled, their teeth were too sharp.
"Well, well," the leader said, his voice like silk over gravel. "The Thornwood bastard and the orc princess. Lord Aldric will be pleased we found you."
My blood turned to ice. "Who are you?"
"Bloodveil Servants." The man's smile widened. "We are those who serve the coming darkness. And you, little Warden, are a problem."
Ashira stepped in front of me, wounded but defiant. "You'll have to go through me first."
"Gladly." The servant gestured, and the other two spread out, circling us.
These weren't human anymore. Whatever Aldric had done to them, they'd become something else. Something that smelled like rot and old blood.
"The artifacts," the leader continued, "are not for you. Lord Aldric will claim them. He will complete the ritual. The Bloodveil will rise, and a new age will begin."
"An age of what?" I demanded. "Death? Destruction?"
"Unity." His red eyes gleamed with fanaticism. "When the Bloodveil consumes this world, there will be no more war. No more conflict. Just glorious obedience to a perfect master."
"That's not unity—that's slavery!"
"Semantics." He raised his hand, and darkness pooled in his palm. "Now, you can come with us peacefully, or we can drag your corpses. Your choice."
Ashira and I exchanged a glance. We were both wounded, exhausted, outnumbered. No chance of winning.
But we'd never been good at accepting defeat.
"Option three," I said. "We fight."
The servant laughed. "Foolish."
He threw the darkness at us.
I raised my hands, trying to summon that Warden power again. Nothing came. I was empty, drained from banishing the wraith.
The darkness hit us like a wave. Ice-cold agony flooded through my veins. I screamed. Ashira collapsed beside me, convulsing.
This was it. We'd failed.
The servants closed in, reaching for us with hands that ended in claws.
Then an arrow punched through the leader's throat.
The servant stumbled, shocked. More arrows followed—a volley from the ruins' upper levels.
Someone shouted in orcish. War cries filled the air.
Orc warriors poured from the ruins—at least twenty of them, weapons drawn. Leading them was a familiar face.
Grimmar Ironmaw, chieftain of the Ironpeak Clans, looking absolutely murderous.
"Get AWAY from my daughter!" he roared.
The Bloodveil Servants tried to fight, but they were outnumbered. Within minutes, all three were dead, dissolving into black smoke.
Grimmar rushed to Ashira, pulling her into his arms. "You stupid, reckless child! You could have died!"
"Father—" Ashira coughed. "How did you find us?"
"I found your note. Eventually." He glared at me over her head. "And I brought warriors to make sure you two fools don't get yourselves killed."
"But the trap—Aldric's army—"
"Is being delayed by a false trail we left. Bought us maybe two days." He helped Ashira to her feet. "Now, are you going to explain why you're in cursed ruins looking for ancient artifacts, or do I start breaking bones?"
Before either of us could answer, the ground beneath us began to shake.
The ruins' central temple—a massive structure we'd been approaching—split open. Light erupted from below, and I heard something that made my blood freeze.
Singing. Hundreds of voices singing in harmony. Ancient. Beautiful. Terrifying.
"What is that?" I whispered.
Grimmar's face went pale. "The Warden's Vault. The place where they sealed the original Bloodveil artifacts." He grabbed both of us. "It's opening. On its own. That should be impossible."
"Why?" Ashira asked.
"Because it only opens for two reasons." He looked at me with something like fear. "Either a Warden with the blood-key opens it willingly... or the Bloodveil itself has grown strong enough to break the seal from inside."
The singing grew louder. The light grew brighter.
And from the depths of the opening temple, something began to rise.
Something ancient.
Something hungry.
Something that had been waiting for centuries to be free.
The Bloodveil was waking up.
And we were standing at its prison door.