They entered through the long wide archway. It was too high that even a giant standing on another giant shall pass without any effort.
"This— this is majestic, it is surreal!" exclaimed Theo as they entered through and saw the gigantic fountain that sparkled under the light of the sun.
"A year worth of travel to find a place like this— this is how wanted this place to be."
But the chatter didn't last long.
Some shadowy figures stepped out from the darkness behind the huge pillars and hit the boys hard that they went unconscious without even making an effort against it.
"Here these kids are." said one figure.
"Hey— don't you think this was rude to hit them like this after what they've been through for a year." complained another as the figure felt some sympathy for the younglings who were fighting against orcs and other creatures at an age where they should have been playing in the gardens of their household.
"This is nothing— these are two are the chosen ones. They have much more than just this ahead of them."
"Yeah yeah whatever— atleast do some courtesy and pick those poor souls up and take them to their rooms." said the kind figure.
Ash.
It blanketed everything.
It drifted like snow across a barren world, curling in the folds of cloaks, settling in the grooves of ancient stone. The air hung thick with it, heavy in Kaleon's lungs as he slowly came to.
He didn't open his eyes at first. He didn't dare. The weight in his body was unnatural—his muscles ached not just from exhaustion, but from something deeper, something like a long sleep interrupted before it could end. His ears rang with silence. Not a bird. Not a breeze. Not even breath.
Then the pain returned.
A dull throb at the back of his skull. A tightness in his chest.
Kaleon stirred with a groan, his gloved hand curling into the soft, brittle soil beneath him. Ash sifted through his fingers like powdered bone. He finally opened his eyes—and the world above looked wrong. The sky was no longer swirling with black storm, but it wasn't calm either. It churned quietly, like smoke caught behind glass. Pale. Colorless. Watchful.
He sat up with effort, wincing as pain lanced through his ribs. Every joint felt stiff, rusted by cold. Ash clung to his tunic and hair, his cloak twisted beneath him. He looked around slowly—eyes adjusting to the dim light. Spires of black stone loomed in the distance like crooked fingers clawing toward the sky. No sound. No movement.
Except—
"Theo?"
His voice came out low, raw from ash and sleep. He turned sharply—too sharply—and winced again.
Theo lay sprawled just a few feet away, his chest rising and falling, hand twitching slightly. His dark curls were matted with dust, and blood crusted near his temple.
"Theo," Kaleon repeated, louder now, crawling toward him.
At the sound, Theo's eyes fluttered. He blinked several times, squinting as he raised an arm to block the pale sky.
"…Kaleon?"
Relief washed over Kaleon like warm water. He let out a shaky breath. "You're alright."
Theo grimaced as he sat up. "Define 'alright'…"
They both took a moment—breathing, grounding themselves. There was something oppressive in the stillness around them. It wasn't just the ash. It was the land itself. Waiting. Watching.
Theo reached for his belt—then froze. "My sword."
Kaleon checked his own side. Nothing.
"No gear," Theo muttered, scanning quickly. "No packs, no knives, nothing."
Kaleon opened his cloak. The only thing that remained was the Flameheart, still looped around his neck. It glowed faintly now—not burning, but pulsing. As if it were… breathing.
Theo noticed his own pendant doing the same. "They left us these."
"They?" Kaleon echoed, brows furrowing.
That's when the panther cubs emerged—silent shadows moving through the dust. They had grown again, larger than they were days ago. Nearly shoulder-height, lean and deadly. Their black fur shimmered faintly in the light, but their eyes… their eyes were locked on something in the distance.
Kaleon followed their gaze.
High on a jagged cliff that overlooked the plain stood two figures. Cloaked. Motionless. Watching.
He didn't know how long they'd been there. A chill ran through him.
"Who—?" Theo began, but then stopped. Because they moved.
One of the figures raised a single hand.
The air changed.
A deep vibration passed through the ground—not violent, but purposeful. Kaleon's chest tightened. It felt like the land itself had drawn in a breath.
And then came the voice.
It didn't echo from the cliff. It echoed from the air, from the ashes, from within them.
"The chosen ones are here."
The voice was low, hollow, but not empty. It was full of age and weight.
"Quite brave… and worthy. But will they be enough?"
Another voice followed. Female, colder. A whisper laced with frost.
"We shall see."
Then—silence. The figures vanished, not in a blink, but as though they had never truly been there.
Kaleon and Theo stood frozen.
Neither spoke. There were no words.
And then, beneath their feet, the ash began to shift.
Lines of glowing dust snaked forward from where they lay, forming a twisting trail through the pale valley. The glow wasn't bright—it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Theo was the first to speak.
"…Do we follow it?"
Kaleon's gaze remained fixed ahead. "It's not just a path."
Theo looked at him.
"It's a summon."
The path of ash pulsed faintly ahead, winding through the desolate plain like a serpent of light.
Kaleon took one step forward.
And the air shifted again.
This time, the silence was not empty. It was waiting.
A flicker above.
The two cloaked figures reappeared on the ridge—closer now, as if the world had bent to bring them forward. One stood tall and gaunt, the folds of their obsidian robe whispering in an invisible wind. The other, smaller, but no less commanding, wore a silver-edged hood pulled low over their face.
Kaleon called out, his voice rough but steady. "Who are you?"