The Ashen Wastes lived up to their name.
Charcoal-gray dunes stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by jagged black rocks that jutted out like broken teeth. The air was dry—too dry—and clung to the lungs like powdered bone. Ael's group had entered the borderlands just before dawn, and even with magical shielding, the heat bore down on them with relentless, suffocating weight.
No birds. No beasts. Not even insects.
Just silence, and ash.
Ael rode at the front, his cloak fluttering in the wind, his gaze fixed ahead. Beneath the sand, he could feel it—the pulsing echo of something ancient, buried deep and waking slowly.
Arienne rode beside him, her eyes sweeping the terrain constantly. "It's too quiet," she said. "Even for cursed land."
"It wasn't always like this," Elric added from behind. "According to the old texts, the Ashen Wastes used to be a verdant forest."
Lyra snorted. "Let me guess. Then someone tried to tap into forbidden magic and burned it all to hell?"
"Close," Elric said grimly. "It was the gods. This was where the first rupture happened—where the Void seeped in. The gods sealed it… but it cost them most of their strength."
Ael didn't speak. His eyes were drawn to the horizon, where a faint dark spire rose above the waves of ash. It wasn't made of stone, nor was it shaped by human hands. It pulsed like a heartbeat—slow, steady, ominous.
The next seal.
And it was already bleeding magic into the world.
Ael stopped his steed and dismounted. The others followed suit, silence falling again as all eyes turned toward the spire. Ael knelt, brushing his fingers against the ashen ground.
"I feel it," he murmured.
"Feel what?" Lyra asked.
Ael stood, his voice low. "We're being watched."
The wind shifted.
From the dunes behind them, the ash exploded upward.
Figures rose—not human, but mockeries of flesh and spirit. Twisted forms, cloaked in remnants of armor that didn't belong to any kingdom. Hollow-eyed. Silent.
One raised a rusted blade.
"Elric—!" Arienne shouted.
"I see them!"
Elric raised his staff and slammed it down. A pulse of lightning erupted, striking the closest shade and turning it to ash. But for each one that fell, two more rose.
"They're the dead," Lyra said, drawing her curved daggers. "Warriors who tried to reach the spire before us."
"Or sent here by the Executioner to slow us down," Ael said.
He raised a hand, and mana swirled into a sphere of raw force. With a flick of his wrist, he released it, sending a shockwave through the oncoming wave of shades.
"Form up!" Arienne shouted, already cutting down a shade that lunged at her.
They fought back to back—Arienne's sword a blur, Elric's magic crackling in the air, Lyra dancing between enemies with deadly precision.
Ael stood in the center, unleashing spells that once would have cost him entire days of mana. Now, with the knowledge absorbed from the Sleeper's tomb, it came naturally. But it wasn't just power that had changed.
It was the way he fought—with instinct, yes, but also with emotion.
Protecting, not just commanding.
He turned just in time to catch a shade sneaking up behind Lyra. Without thinking, he raised his hand—and a barrier formed instantly, shattering the attacker in a flash of blue light.
Lyra paused, glanced back, and for just a second, gave him a look of genuine surprise.
"You just saved me."
"I did."
She blinked. "You never did that before."
"I was different before."
Ael turned back to the battlefield, his expression unreadable.
Minutes passed. Then silence.
The last of the shades fell. The wind carried their ashes into the dunes once more.
Panting, Elric leaned on his staff. "That was… worse than the last two fights combined."
"They're getting stronger," Arienne said.
Ael nodded. "And they'll keep coming. The closer we get to the seal, the more desperate the Executioner will become."
Lyra stepped beside him. "Then let's end it before he can act."
They turned toward the spire once more. Its pulse had quickened—responding, perhaps, to their presence. Or warning them.
Ael placed his hand on his chest, where the magic of the Sleeper's legacy still burned.
He could feel the seal calling to him.
Not just as a key…
…but as its heir.