I scanned the room, my eyes lingering on the symbols etched into the obsidian throne. They pulsed faintly, as if alive, the light ebbing and flowing with a rhythm that seemed unnervingly deliberate. The weight of the air pressed down harder, filling my lungs with something dense and metallic.
Mal paced, her boots crunching against the broken remnants of bone and stone scattered across the floor. “I don’t like this,” she muttered, her voice cutting through the eerie silence. “It feels like a trap.”
“It probably is.” My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to. I stepped cautiously closer to the throne, each step heavy and deliberate. The markings seemed to grow brighter the closer I got, the air around them shimmering with heat that made my skin prickle.
“What are you doing?” Mal’s tone had an edge of panic as she stopped pacing, her hand tightening around the hilt of her blade.
“If he left answers, they’ll be here,” I said, not turning back. The chair seemed to hum now, vibrating at the edge of perception. I couldn’t tell if the pull I felt toward it was my own curiosity-or something else entirely.
“This isn’t smart.” Mal moved closer, stopping a few feet behind me. “You remember what happened the last time you touched something that looked harmless but wasn’t.”
I winced at the memory, the phantom sting of burns that had taken weeks to heal flashing through me. “I’ll be careful.”
“Sure you will.” Her sarcasm barely masked the concern in her voice. “For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.”
I raised a hand to silence her, my attention fully on the markings now. They weren’t random-I could see that clearly. The patterns were too intricate, the curves and angles flowing into each other with an otherworldly precision. They looked almost like a map, though of what, I couldn’t yet say.
“What are you seeing?” Mal asked, her voice quieter now.
“A puzzle,” I murmured. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and trace the lines, but I kept my hands at my sides. “This is a key. It has to be.”
“A key to what?”
I didn’t answer. My eyes drifted to a series of grooves that formed a concentric pattern around the base of the throne. They weren’t glowing, but something about them felt… charged. My pulse quickened as I crouched down to examine them.
The grooves weren’t just decorative; they were deliberately carved channels, their edges sharp and precise. They spiraled inward toward the base of the throne, meeting in a small hollow that was just big enough for-
“For what?” Mal’s voice cut through my thoughts, startling me.
“For this.” I straightened, reaching into the pouch at my side and pulling out the crystal shard I’d taken from the shadow king’s body after our battle. It had pulsed faintly then, alive with residual energy, but now it seemed inert, dull in the low light.
Mal’s eyes widened as she realized what I was holding. “You kept that?” Her tone was incredulous. “After everything it did?”
“It’s a piece of him,” I said simply, turning the shard over in my hand. “And if we’re going to figure out what he meant, we’re going to need it.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but held back, her expression shifting from anger to reluctant understanding. “Fine. But if that thing blows up in your face, I’m not pulling you out of here.”
I offered her a weak smile before kneeling and fitting the shard into the hollow. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a soft hum, the grooves around the throne began to glow, their light spreading outward in a ripple that lit up the entire room.
The vibrations grew stronger, making the floor tremble beneath our feet. Mal stepped back, her blade half-drawn as her gaze darted around the room. “What did you do?”
Before I could answer, a deep, resonant voice filled the air, echoing off the walls and seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”
My blood froze. Mal’s hand shot to my arm, pulling me to my feet. “Tell me that’s not him.”
The voice laughed-a hollow, grating sound that made the room seem colder. “Not quite. You killed me, remember?”
It wasn’t him. At least, not entirely. I could tell from the way the words crackled like static, as if pieced together from fragments of sound. A memory. An echo of the shadow king’s consciousness, bound to the crystal shard.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell us what you meant,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.
The laughter faded, replaced by a low hum of static. “I meant exactly what I said. You’re fighting the wrong war.”
“What war?” Mal snapped, stepping forward, her sword raised. “You want to enlighten us?”
The light around the throne pulsed once, and then the patterns shifted, rearranging themselves into a map-an actual map, glowing faintly with lines that spread outward from a central point. At its heart was a symbol we both recognized immediately: the mark of the shadow king.
“This war.” The voice was quieter now, almost mournful. “You think it’s over. You think my defeat means your world is safe. But you’re wrong.”
“What are we looking at?” Mal asked, her tone sharp with suspicion.
“Your future,” the voice replied. “Unless you stop them.”
“Stop who?” I demanded, stepping closer to the map. The lines weren’t random-they represented ley lines, intersecting at specific points marked with more of the glowing symbols.
“The true enemies,” the shadow king’s voice replied. “The ones who orchestrated all of this-who used me as a distraction. They’re coming, and when they do, you won’t stand a chance.”
I stared at the map, my stomach twisting. The intersections weren’t just random locations-they were places of power, ancient sites that had been dormant for centuries. I recognized a few of them from old stories: the Spire of Valtor, the Cradle of Esharra, the Weeping Wastes.
“How do we stop them?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The light flickered, and the voice grew fainter. “Find the artifacts. They hold the only power capable of banishing them. But be warned: the closer you get, the stronger they’ll become. Time is not on your side.”
The map dimmed, and the shard fell silent, its light fading back to nothing. I picked it up and turned to Mal, who was staring at me with a mixture of shock and dread.
“Well,” she said after a long moment. “I guess we know what he meant now.”
I nodded, my hands trembling as I tucked the shard back into my pouch. The war we thought we’d won was nothing but a prelude. And the real fight-the one that would decide everything-was just beginning.