It took two additional days to reach Blackmere, each day spent in strained silence and looking over their shoulders. The Order was pursuing them. And since the raid in the Marrow Hills, Aeron and Kaela were aware that the foe was already in front of them, lurking in ambush.
Blackmere was a town unlike Ardentia. Instead of towering white stone, the buildings were made of dark wood, their rooftops steep and narrow. The streets were muddy, the sky permanently overcast, giving the entire place a feeling of constant twilight.
Aeron pulled his cloak tighter. Something about this place felt wrong.
Kaela scanned the area. "Selene's contact—Varian. He's supposed to be here, right?"
Aeron nodded. "She said he's a scholar. Probably keeps to the quieter parts of town."
"Then let's hope we're not already too late," Kaela muttered.
They moved carefully through the streets, avoiding eye contact with the hooded figures lurking in the alleys. The town felt… watched. As if unseen eyes were tracking every movement.
Then, they spotted it.
A small bookshop tucked between two larger buildings, its sign faded and cracked. The symbol above the door—a silver quill inside a crescent moon.
This was the place.
The Scholar's Warning
Aeron pushed open the door, a bell jingling softly.
The inside smelled of old parchment and burning candles. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books older than the town itself.
Behind the counter sat a man in dark robes, hunched over a massive tome. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp—the eyes of someone who had seen too much.
"Varian?" Aeron asked cautiously.
The man's gaze flicked up. He studied Aeron, then Kaela.
"Close the door," he said.
Kaela shut it behind them, locking it for good measure.
Varian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Selene warned me you'd come."
Aeron drew out the sealed parchment and put it on the counter. "She said you knew something about the Obsidian Key."
Varian's face darkened. "I did."
Aeron's gut coiled. "Did?"
The scholar took a breath. "Two days ago, the Order sought me out. I barely managed to get away. They confiscated everything they could find connected to the Key—maps, books, even the records of where it last was."
Kaela swore. "So they really are in front of us."
Varian nodded grimly. "But they haven't discovered it. Not yet."
He produced an old parchment, unrolling it onto the counter. It was a fragment of a map, covered in smudged ink and odd symbols.
"This is all I was able to salvage," Varian said. "It's incomplete, but it indicates the direction of the Crimson Wastes. The ruins of Valthir's Hollow—where the Key was last said to be hidden."
Aeron mapped out the location. "Then that's where we go."
Varian shook his head. "If you go there, you'll walk into a trap."
Kaela arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
Varian leaned forward, speaking softly. "The Crimson Wastes are cursed. Valthir's Hollow, its ruins, used to be home to the Riftguard's most heinous betrayal."
Aeron's air came out in a gasp. "What betrayal?"
Varian's gaze remained fixed on him.
"The Riftguard did not just protect the world from the rifts," he said. "They created them."
A Shocking Truth
Silence filled the room.
Kaela frowned. "That's impossible. The Riftguard were the ones stopping the rifts from spreading."
Varian shook his head. "That's only part of the truth."
He gestured to a worn-out passage in the tome before him.
"Ages ago, the Riftguard experimented with forbidden magic. They sought a way to create weapons strong enough to fight the darkness. But their greed led them to the ultimate mistake—they opened the first Rift."
Aeron felt the weight of the hammer on his back. "Then… they caused this?"
Varian nodded. "And when they saw what they had done, they attempted to close what they had opened. They created weapons imbued with Rift energy—your hammer was among them."
Kaela breathed out. "So the Order of the Rift isn't merely attempting to open rifts… they believe they're completing what the Riftguard began."
Varian's expression turned grim. "Exactly."
Aeron's mind reeled. This was everything. He wasn't merely wielding an ancient sword—he was holding a fragment of the Riftguard's most egregious offense.
But there was no time for second-guessing. The Key still existed. And if the Order obtained it first.
The world would incinerate.
The Chase Begins
Varian passed the unfinished map to Aeron. "Travel to the Crimson Wastes. Locate the remains of Valthir's Hollow. But take care—the Order has already deployed their troops."
Aeron nodded. "We'll intercept them."
Varian's mouth pinched. "I hope so."
Then his face changed. He looked over toward the window, his eyes narrowing.
Aeron followed his gaze.
A shadow crossed the street. And another.
Kaela cursed. "We're out of time."
Varian picked up a bag from under the counter, jamming a handful of books into it. "There's a back door. If they catch me, they'll kill me for assisting you."
Aeron's jaw was clenched in anger. "Come with us."
Varian shook his head. "No. Someone has to remain here and hold them up."
Kaela was about to protest, but Varian was already pushing them towards the back door.
"Go," he urged. "And whatever happens—don't let the Key fall into their hands."
Aeron nodded. "We won't."
Then he and Kaela slipped into the alley, vanishing into the shadows.
And behind them, the Order closed in.