The wind whipped past Kaelen's face, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as they climbed. Below, the Jagged Peaks lived up to their name, a brutal landscape of sheer drops and treacherous scree slopes.
Beside him, Master Borin grunted with effort, his heavy pack shifting. Ahead, Anya and Joric moved with the easy grace of seasoned climbers, their figures silhouetted against the pale, unforgiving sky.
Their team. The Steel Peaks Guild's most promising prospects, or so they were called.
They were three days out from the nearest outpost, pushing towards the rumored location of the Whisperwind Ruins.
An ancient place, said to hold artifacts of immense power, guarded by trials and creatures the standard Guild contracts wouldn't touch.
This was a high-stakes mission, personally sanctioned by Guildmaster Valerius. Success here wouldn't just mean wealth; it would mean elevation to the ranks of the Guild's elite, securing their futures.
He felt a surge of camaraderie, of shared purpose. Borin, his mentor, gruff but fair, who'd taught him everything from knot-tying to reading the subtle signs of hostile territory.
Anya, swift and precise with a blade, her laughter easy around the campfire. Joric, the quiet one, a master of traps and spatial awareness.
They'd faced down mountain beasts, navigated treacherous blizzards, and shared meager rations in the wilderness. They trusted each other with their lives. Or so Kaelen believed.
"See anything, Kaelen?" Borin's voice was a low rumble. Kaelen's own strength wasn't in brute force like Borin's, or Anya's martial skill, or Joric's cunning traps.
His was in perception, honed from years of navigating treacherous terrains and reading the subtle flows of ambient energy that hinted at danger or hidden paths.
He focused, his senses expanding beyond the physical. The wind carried faint energy signatures – natural, chaotic mana flows of the peaks, and the subtle, predictable trails left by their own passage.
Nothing unexpected. "Clear so far, Master," he called back, his voice tight against the wind. "Just the wind and the rocks."
They reached a narrow ledge, overlooking a dizzying drop into a deep canyon. The air here was thin, carrying a faint, almost musical hum – the Whisperwind itself, resonance from deep within the earth.
According to the legends, the ruins were hidden somewhere down in the depths of this very canyon. The descent would be the hardest part.
Anya and Joric had stopped, their backs to Borin and Kaelen, seemingly examining the cliff face for anchors.
"Looks like the main path is just ahead,"
Anya called back, her voice light.
"A tricky climb down, though. Joric's setting the first anchors." Borin grunted, setting down his pack near the edge.
"Careful now. These old tales can be more dangerous than the monsters."
Kaelen nodded, moving forward to join them, looking down into the vast, shadowed gulf of the canyon.
His System (a basic interface most people had for tracking minor skills and status in this world) showed simple information:
Status: Healthy.
Stamina: High.
Skill: Mountaineering (Intermediate).
Mundane information for a mundane world, or what he thought was mundane.
As he reached the edge, standing between Anya and Joric, a cold dread, sudden and sharp, pierced through his feeling of ease. Not the energy signature of a monster, not a natural hazard. Something… human. Behind him.
He spun around, instinct screaming a warning his System hadn't provided. Master Borin stood there, but his expression wasn't the gruff concern Kaelen knew.
It was cold. Hard. And beside him, two other figures, Guild members Kaelen recognized but weren't part of their team, materialized from behind a cluster of rocks, their weapons already drawn.
Anya and Joric turned back to him, their faces impassive. No, not impassive. Cruel.
"Kaelen," Anya said, and her voice was like ice. "You have something Valerius wants."
"The resonance," Joric added, his quiet voice now chillingly devoid of warmth. "Your unique sensitivity to it. He needs it for the artifacts."
Betrayal. The word slammed into Kaelen with the force of a physical blow. Borin? Anya? Joric? His team? Why? How?
"Artifacts?" he stammered, his mind reeling. Valerius? The Guildmaster? What resonance? What are they talking about? We're here for the mission—
"The mission was a lie," Borin cut him off, his voice flat. The mentor facade dropped away like a stone. "Valerius needed you here. Isolated. Where your… sensitivity could be extracted without witnesses."
Extracted? The cold dread intensified, turning to icy terror. They weren't just abandoning him; they were going to do something to him. Use him.
"We're sorry, Kaelen," Anya said, but her eyes held no regret, only cold calculation. "Orders are orders. And Valerius pays well."
"Guild loyalty, Kaelen," Joric added, a hint of a sneer touching his lips. "Higher than team loyalty, apparently."
They moved in, weapons ready. Three against one. Four, counting Borin. Kaelen's mind raced, but his body felt sluggish, paralyzed by the shock of betrayal.
He wasn't a combat specialist like them. His skills were perception, navigation, survival in the wilds. Not fighting trusted allies.
Borin raised a heavy hand, a nullification rune glowing on his palm. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, boy. It'll be quicker if you don't resist."
"Quicker?" Fury, hot and sharp, finally cut through the shock. "You're betraying me! Leaving me for dead for some ancient artifacts?!"
He dodged Borin's initial energy blast, scrambling back towards the canyon edge. Not retreat. Evasion.
He needed space, time to think.
They want my sensitivity? What sensitivity? The resonance? Is that why I was chosen for this team?
But they were too fast. Anya moved like lightning, her blade a silver blur, forcing him further towards the edge. Joric's traps, subtle energy snares Kaelen hadn't noticed until now, shimmered near his feet. The two other Guild members moved to cut off any escape route.
Anya's blade flashed, a precise cut that sliced through the leather of his arm guard and bit deep into his flesh.
Pain exploded up his arm. His simple System interface flashed Status: Injured. Bleeding (Minor). Minor? It felt like his arm was on fire.
He lashed out with a desperate kick, connecting with Joric's chest and sending him staggering back. But Borin was there, his Nullification rune glowing brighter, aimed directly at him.
A wave of oppressive force washed over him, seizing his limbs, freezing his meager abilities. His System screen flickered wildly:
Status: Nullified.
Skills: Locked.
Trapped. Nullified. Injured. At the edge of the canyon. Betrayed. How could they? Borin… he was my mentor! Anya… Joric… I trusted them!
"Goodbye, Kaelen," Borin said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Your sensitivity will serve the Guild."
He shoved him. Hard.
Kaelen's feet left the narrow ledge. The sky, fractured by impossibly jagged peaks, spun above him.
The wind shrieked in his ears, no longer carrying the scent of pine, but the dizzying emptiness of the fall.
He saw their faces for a moment – Anya's cold, Joric's indifferent, Borin's grimly resolute. Betrayal etched into his final view of the surface.
Down. Down into the shadowed gulf of the Whisperwind Canyon. He hit rock once, a glancing blow that sent a shockwave of agony through his side.
Status: Severely Injured. Falling. Multiple Fractures. Bleeding (Major).
His useless System interface screamed alerts that meant nothing now.
He tumbled, the ground a blur of stone and shadow. The sounds of the surface vanished, replaced by the roar of the wind and the constant, low hum of the Whisperwind resonance, now surrounding him, engulfing him. It felt different here, deeper, purer. The resonance… it was flooding into him.
He landed. Not on rock, but in something soft, yielding, yet cold and strangely resonant.
Deep within the canyon floor. Critically injured. Broken. Bleeding out. His System screen flickered one last time, displaying his dire status before the light faded entirely.
Darkness. Cold. Pain. And their faces. Their betrayal. It burned hotter than any physical wound. They left him to die. For power. For artifacts. For the Guild. They will pay.
Despair threatened to consume him, pulling him into the void of unconsciousness. But then, the pain, the raw injustice, the image of their faces… it ignited something else. A furious, burning rage. A vow etched in blood and betrayal.
He would not die here.
He would return.
And he would have his revenge.
The Whisperwind resonance hummed around him, responding to the raw, potent surge of his fury. The darkness deepened, but it wasn't just the darkness of death. It felt… different.
Expectant. And around his broken, bleeding form, something began to stir in the depths of the canyon, drawn by the intensity of a will that refused to break. Drawn by a fury that demanded a return. The Descent was complete. Now, the path of the Revenant began.