The wagon rattled along the uneven road, its wheels creaking beneath the weight of men and purpose. The night was deep now, the sky veiled in thick clouds, only the lantern hanging near Garrin’s seat offering a dim, swaying glow.

  Inside the wagon, Darius sat with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the shifting canvas overhead, though his mind was elsewhere.

  Lucian sat across from him, quiet as ever, his hands resting on his lap. The boy had been watching him—not with fear, but with the sharp, measuring look of someone trying to piece together a puzzle.

  Darius exhaled through his nose and shifted, the leather of his coat creaking. He could feel the weight of it all pressing down. Aldric was gone. His final will had passed to Lucian. And now, the boy was here, expecting answers, expecting a path.

  Orin Kael was the only man who could give him that.

  But was that truly what the boy needed?

  Garrin’s voice drifted in from the front, humming some old merchant tune as the horses clopped along. The sound should have been calming. It wasn’t.

  Darius clenched his jaw. This wasn’t his burden to carry, was it? Aldric had entrusted Lucian’s future to Orin Kael. And yet, some part of him still whispered—what if the boy isn’t ready? What if Kael can’t give him what he needs?

  “Something’s bothering you,” Lucian said suddenly.

  Darius blinked and turned his gaze to him. Lucian’s voice wasn’t accusing—just… steady. Curious. Aldric had raised a sharp one.

  Darius scoffed. “A habit that keeps me alive.”

  Lucian hesitated, then said, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Darius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at the boy for a long moment before speaking.

  “You think getting to Orin Kael will fix everything?” His voice was quiet but edged.

  Lucian frowned. “Aldric trusted him. That’s all that matters.”

  Darius shook his head. “And when there’s no one left to trust but yourself? What then?”

  Lucian’s fingers twitched. He had no answer.

  The wagon rolled on, the silence between them settling like a second weight. Darius had no right to deny Aldric’s final will. But that didn’t mean he could silence the doubt gnawing at him.

  Outside, Garrin hummed on, oblivious.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, Garrin gave a heavy sigh and tugged on the reins, slowing the wagon to a halt.

  “We should make camp,” he said, stretching his arms. “No sense in pushing through the dark when we’ve got a long road ahead. Best to rest and set out at first light.”

  Darius exhaled, nodding. He had been lost in his own thoughts, but Garrin had a point. They had made good progress, and exhaustion did neither man nor horse any favors.

  Lucian, seated beside him, glanced up at the sky before quietly gathering his things. He never complained, never questioned—just followed where he was led. The thought unsettled Darius more than he cared to admit.

  They set up camp just off the roadside, the fire crackling as Garrin busied himself tending to the horses. Darius remained quiet, watching Lucian from across the flames. The boy was disciplined—too disciplined for his age. His posture, the way he carried himself, the quiet efficiency in which he moved—it all bore the marks of Aldric’s training.

  But how much had Aldric truly prepared him for what lay ahead?

  Darius felt the weight of Aldric’s final will pressing on his shoulders. He needed to know.

  “Lucian,” Darius called, standing up. The boy looked over at him, waiting.

  “Come with me. There’s something I need to see for myself.”

  Lucian didn’t hesitate. He rose to his feet and followed Darius into the darkness beyond the firelight.

  ------------------------

  The woods stretched around them, the crackling of the campfire fading as Darius led Lucian a short distance away. Above them, the moon hung low, casting pale light through the trees. The night air was cool, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine.

  Darius came to a stop in a small clearing, arms crossed as he regarded Lucian in silence. For a moment, he simply observed the boy—measuring, weighing. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached to his belt, unfastened the sheath of a simple yet well-balanced sword, and held it out.

  “Take it,” Darius said.

  Lucian tested its weight in his grip. It wasn’t foreign to him—Aldric had trained him well—but why this blade? He glanced at Darius, questioning without words.

  “I’ve seen the way you move,” Darius said. “You’ve been trained, no doubt. Aldric did well with you.”

  Darius took a step back, rolling his shoulders. “But I want to test something.”

  Without further warning, he lunged.

  Their blades met, the sound of steel ringing through the clearing. The clash lasted only seconds before Darius disengaged, stepping back. “Good form. Controlled, but rigid,” he observed. “Aldric’s style—precise, disciplined. But that won’t always be enough.”

  Lucian narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Darius exhaled, lowering his blade slightly. The clash had been brief, but enough to expose the rigid edges of Lucian’s technique. Before he could dwell on it, Darius reached down and picked up a fallen branch.

  “Aldric taught you how to fight. I’ll teach you how to survive.”

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  He tested the weight of the branch, then tossed it to Lucian. “Use this.”

  Lucian caught it, puzzled. “You want me to fight with a branch?”

  “I want you to coat it.”

  Lucian frowned. “Coat it? What do you mean?”

  Darius didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked up a branch of his own, gripping it firmly. A moment later, his Ascen flared to life, a subtle but unmistakable glow enveloping the wood. Without hesitation, he strode toward a nearby tree and swung.

  The branch cut clean through the bark, leaving a sharp gash in the trunk. Lucian’s eyes widened.

  Darius turned back to him. “That’s what I mean. Now, do it.”

  Lucian’s grip tightened. He understood the implication but had never applied Ascen this way. His abilities had always been channeled through his body, his strikes, his reflexes—but his weapon? That was different.

  Darius folded his arms. “A normal blade dulls, shatters. A weapon is only as strong as the will behind it. Coat your blade with your Ascen, and even a wooden sword can cut through steel.”

  Lucian concentrated, gripping the branch tighter. He could feel his Ascen, but pushing it outward—beyond his body—felt unnatural, like grasping at water slipping through his fingers. He strained, furrowing his brow, but the energy wavered, flickering before vanishing entirely.

  Darius watched him carefully. “Again.”

  Lucian took a breath, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He tried once more, forcing the Ascen to flow into the wood. A faint shimmer flickered across the branch, but it was weak, unstable. The moment he tried to hold onto it, the energy dissipated again.

  His grip tightened. Aldric had trained him for years, had built his foundation in combat—but this was something new, something he wasn’t prepared for. He grit his teeth and tried again, pushing his Ascen into the wood with sheer determination.

  A dim glow finally settled over the branch. It was barely visible, but it was there. He exhaled sharply, stepping forward to face the same tree Darius had struck.

  Darius stood back, arms crossed. “Now, strike.”

  Lucian swung with force. The branch struck the tree with a dull thud, leaving nothing more than a faint mark on the bark. He frowned, inhaling sharply through his nose.

  Darius sighed. “Again.”

  Lucian’s frustration flared, but he obeyed, swinging harder. The branch hit with more force this time, but the tree remained unscathed aside from a slight indentation.

  His jaw tightened. One more time.

  He adjusted his stance, channeling his focus. He could feel his Ascen thrumming beneath the surface, and this time, he didn’t try to force it—he let it flow. The glow around the branch strengthened, flickering but holding firm. He swung.

  The branch struck with a sharp crack, cutting a shallow gash into the bark.

  Lucian stared at the mark, his breathing uneven.

  Darius nodded in approval. “Not bad. It’ll take time, but you’re getting it.”

  Lucian’s breath was heavy, but something had changed. He could feel it—the weight of the lesson, the shift in his control. Aldric had trained him to be a warrior, But Darius was teaching him how to wield his power—to survive.

  Tomorrow, they would be closer to Orin Kael. But tonight, under the vast sky, Lucian had taken his first step toward something greater. The road stretched on, and so did the lessons that awaited him.

  --------------------------------

  As they made their way back to camp, the quiet of the night settled between them. The campfire’s glow flickered in the distance, a beacon in the dark. Lucian walked in measured silence, still processing the lesson, while Darius seemed lost in thought.

  Then, out of nowhere, Darius spoke. “This might be a stupid question, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Lucian. “Can you summon your Relicarn?”

  Lucian’s steps faltered for half a second before he steadied himself. His grip on his cloak tightened. “Why do you ask?”

  Darius shrugged. “Just curious.”

  Cold. That was the first thing he remembered. Not like winter’s chill or the bite of a sharp wind, but something deeper—something unnatural. It had settled into his bones, into the very core of him, as if the warmth of his own existence had been leached away.

  He had tried. He had reached within himself, searching for the spark of power he knew should be there. But instead of something familiar, something he could grasp and wield, there had been… something else.

  A vast presence. Silent. Watchful. It had no form, no voice, but he had felt it stir. Not like an extension of himself, not like a sword waiting to be drawn—but as something other. Something aware.

  And then it reached back.

  A suffocating pressure wrapped around his mind, his very soul. His breath had hitched, his pulse hammering against his ribs. For a fleeting moment, he wasn’t sure if he was still himself—if he was even still there—or if something else had taken his place.

  A deep abyss had yawned before him, and he had teetered on the edge, caught between knowing and unknowing. The moment stretched, endless and consuming, until—

  Father Aldric had pulled him back.

  The memory hit like a phantom blow, leaving his skin cold despite the firelight ahead. He swallowed hard, shaking off the lingering sensation.

  Lucian exhaled slowly. “I’ve tried before. It didn’t go well.”

  Darius glanced at him, catching the weight behind those words. He didn’t pry. “I see.” He looked ahead toward the camp. “Might be something to work toward.”

  Lucian wasn’t sure how to respond. Did he want to try again? Did he even dare?

  They reached the edge of the fire’s glow, where Garrin sat, poking the embers with a stick. He looked up as they approached. “You two looked like you were up to something.”

  Darius smirked. “Just testing a few things.”

  Garrin raised an eyebrow but let it go. “Well, best get some rest. We’ve got a long road ahead.”

  Lucian settled down by the fire, the warmth pressing against his skin. Yet, his thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on Darius’s question.

  A Relicarn—his own weapon, forged from his very soul.

  But what if it wasn’t truly his? What if the thing that reached back wasn’t meant to be wielded? What if, next time, there was no one to pull him back?

  He closed his eyes, but sleep did not come easily that night.

  Because he knew one thing for certain.

  If he tried again, there was no telling what might reach back.

  ----------------------

  Lucian stirred as a firm hand shook his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to find Darius standing over him, the morning light casting long shadows across his face.

  "Get up," Darius said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "We're moving."

  Lucian blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, rubbing the lingering drowsiness from his face. The fire had burned low, leaving only smoldering embers in its place. The chill of the morning air bit at his skin, but the scent of damp earth and fresh dawn filled his lungs.

  Garrin was already at the wagon, checking the wheels and securing their supplies with practiced efficiency. He shot Lucian a glance and smirked. "Morning, sunshine. Hope you slept well because we've got a long ride ahead of us."

  Lucian stretched, rolling his shoulders as he stood. "I’m ready."

  Darius gave him a once-over, then nodded toward the wagon. "Then let’s get going."

  The road stretched ahead, bathed in the golden light of morning. Another long journey lay ahead

  The journey through the mountain pass was steady but demanding. The crisp morning air turned sharp as they ascended, the winding path flanked by towering cliffs and dense mist rolling in from above. The wagon jolted over uneven stone, but Garrin kept a steady hand on the reins, guiding them through the treacherous terrain with practiced ease.

  Lucian was silent for most of the ride, his thoughts lingering on the days prior. The training with Darius, the weight of Aldric’s will, and the looming uncertainty of what lay ahead all pressed against him. Darius, ever watchful, seemed lost in thought as well, his gaze shifting between the road and the horizon.

  By early afternoon, the fog thinned, revealing a colossal fortress nestled against the mountainside. Towering walls of dark stone loomed ahead, their sheer size both imposing and unwavering. Along the battlements, banners swayed in the wind a crimson wolf’s head wreathed in golden flames, its eyes like smoldering embers, with a sword crossing behind it. A symbol of unbreakable resolve, of those who thrived in the heart of the fire.

  As they neared, the massive steel gate groaned, lifting to allow them passage. The fortress, hidden from the outside world, now stood before them in its full might.

  Darius exhaled, his expression unreadable, then turned to Lucian. "We're here."

  Lucian studied the walls, the banners, the sheer scale of it all. "What is this place?"

  Darius smirked, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "This is our home. The home of the Emberfang Legion."

  Lucian stared at the towering fortress, its presence a testament to the strength of the warriors within. The air here felt different—charged with something he couldn’t quite place. His sharp gaze scanning the stronghold. The weight of Aldric’s will pressed heavier now. He had made it this far, but what came next?

  And more importantly—was Orin Kael truly the answer he was searching for?