The sky was alive with fury. Thunder rolled and lightning tore through the clouds, crimson streaks arcing violently across the heavens. Yet this storm was no natural fury — it was the echo of power, a side effect of sorcery being wrought far from Altheris.
In a jagged tower atop a craggy cliff inside was a witch known as Maryse she stood beside her husband Maelrin, Maryse's violet eyes glimmered with strain.
Her hands hovered over the floating crystal orb, chanting in the ancient tongue. Each word sent lightning to Altheris, and the orb pulsed violently, glowing with a deep crimson light that reflected off the dark stone walls.
Her husband's voice joined hers, low, commanding, relentless. "The amulet hides itself. It fights us. Push harder — we must find it."
The air around them quivered with raw energy. Lightning crackled through the skies, thunder boomed in unnatural rhythm, and yet none of it touched the world below. The storm was their magic made visible — a warning, a consequence, a testament to the toll they were paying.
Maryse faltered, her strength waning. Sweat streaked her brow, muscles aching, voice trembling. "Every pulse we send… it drains me. This power… it's consuming us."
Her husband's eyes narrowed, teeth clenched. "Then we endure. The amulet will not hide forever. We must free Varion's soul — only he knows how we can get the power we seek."
---
The guard, still taking refuge in the old woman's hut, grew uneasy as the night deepened. She had left hours ago. He had caught only a glimpse of the path she took—just enough to know she was gone, not enough to know where she had truly gone.
Not that it should have mattered to him.
Yet his gaze kept drifting to the door.
An old woman had no business wandering out so late, not with danger lurking in the dark, waiting for something—or someone—to claim.
He paced the narrow room, boots scuffing softly against the floor.
If she doesn't return soon, he thought, I'll go looking for her.
The decision settled heavily in his chest.
I'll risk my life if I must. She opened her door to me… and as a royal guard it is my duty to protect.
---
The Royal Interrogation
The great hall of Altheris was dim, lit only by torches that swayed as the wind howled beyond the walls.
King Alaric sat upon his throne, his eyes sharp, fixed upon the young man before him—Lorin.
"You came into my castle in a disguise as one of my guards," said the King slowly, his tone heavy with distrust. "But the moment you arrived, the Crimson Amulet awoke from its slumber. Explain yourself who are you?"
Lorin stood tall, though uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "Your Majesty, I am Lorin. I swear by the stars above, I know not how I came to be here. The amulet... it found me. It burned in my dreams before I ever laid eyes upon it."
The King's brow furrowed. "Dreams? Or delusions?"
Kael, standing beside the throne, leaned forward. "Sire, with all respect, I've read of such things. The amulet is known to choose those who share its echo—the fragments of souls bound to its memory."
"Fragments of souls?" the King repeated darkly. "You speak in riddles."
Lorin drew a breath. "My lord, I believe the amulet called me because I once bore part of its essence. Not in this lifetime, perhaps... but in another."
Murmurs started spreading through the castle by guards and maids. The King rose from his throne.
"Another life?"
"Yes," Lorin said softly, his gaze distant. "When the light consumed me, I saw a man—a sorcerer—fall to the ground as the amulet rejected him. I felt his death. I felt his power."
Kael's expression darkened. "Varion," he whispered.
The King's eyes narrowed. "And how would you know that name, Kael?"
The guardian hesitated, then bowed slightly. "Because it was written in the forbidden texts, Your Majesty. The one who first sought to control the amulet's heart."
The King turned again to Lorin. "So you expect me to believe you carry the memory of a man long dead?"
"I do not expect you to believe," Lorin replied, voice trembling yet firm. "But I know what I saw. And I fear the storm that calls for it again."
The King's expression shifted—half anger, half unease. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a deafening clap of thunder struck so close that the walls shook. The torches flickered out, plunging the hall into red gloom from the amulet's faint glow.
The King looked upward. "Why is the thunder so extreme, eh?"
No one answered.
Then Seraphina whispered, her voice barely a breath:
"The hunt begins."
Kael's eyes widened. "Oh no…"
Outside, the storm roared once more.