I studied the ethereal map hovering before us, the ghostly light casting strange shadows across the ancient forge. Three glowing points marked the shards' locations—seemingly impossible distances apart.
"The first shard, Valor, lies in what remains of Dragon's Maw," the spectral Guardian explained, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The fortress where Edric Thorne made his final stand against the eastern hordes."
I felt Lysander stiffen beside me. Every Thorne child grew up hearing tales of Edric the Valiant, who held the fortress with just thirty men against thousands, buying time for villages to evacuate before the fortress fell.
"Dragon's Maw is little more than ruins now," I said. "It sits in contested borderlands. No man's land."
"As it should be," the Guardian replied. "Valor is not tested in safe havens."
