Riyan and Amara trudged through the wreckage, the remnants of the Crimson Spire sanctuary barely visible behind them. The crimson veins pulsing beneath the ground matched the rhythm of Riyan's heartbeat, pounding in his ears as he struggled to process the chaos that had unfolded. His hands tightened around the artifact, its glow dim but insistent—a reminder that no matter how much he wished to escape it, he couldn't.
"You're walking too slow." Amara's voice cut through the silence.
Riyan barely glanced at her. "We just lost an entire safe zone. Forgive me if I don't feel like running into the next disaster."
Her expression was unreadable. She didn't argue, but she didn't slow down either. The terrain ahead stretched endlessly, jagged rock formations casting eerie shadows as the crimson glow twisted the landscape. It felt wrong—like the ground beneath them wasn't stable, like the Spire itself was shifting around them.
Riyan had noticed it earlier, but now it was undeniable.
The Nexus was breaking faster.
As if sensing his thoughts, the artifact pulsed in his grip. It had grown warmer, thrumming with faint energy. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward, determined to ignore the whispers at the edges of his mind.
Amara scanned their surroundings, her hand hovering near her sword. "We'll need shelter soon. The vampires won't stop hunting you."
Riyan felt the weight of her words settle over him. He'd seen their determination—especially the warlord's. They wouldn't stop until they had the artifact.
Or until they had him.
Something moved in the distance. Amara reacted instantly, yanking Riyan behind a jagged outcropping as **figures** emerged from the darkness. Their presence was strange—silent, swift, almost unnatural in their movements. They weren't vampires.
Their armor was battered, worn down by battle, but their stance was confident, measured. Their weapons weren't finely crafted—most were jagged, scavenged blades that gleamed faintly in the crimson light. But it wasn't their weaponry that unsettled Riyan—it was their eyes.
They weren't fully human.
One of them stepped forward. He was tall, his presence commanding, despite the ragged armor clinging to him like a second skin. **Kael.**
"You're carrying something that doesn't belong to you," Kael said, voice calm but firm.
Riyan felt Amara tense beside him, her fingers gripping the hilt of her blade.
"I didn't ask for this," Riyan replied.
Kael's lips curled into something resembling a smirk. "No one asks for fate."
The artifact pulsed violently, and Kael's gaze flicked toward it. His expression shifted—something between curiosity and recognition.
"It recognizes you," Kael murmured. "Figures. It always finds the ones it wants."
Riyan frowned, his grip tightening. "What are you talking about?"
Kael watched him for a long moment before gesturing for his group to lower their weapons. "You don't understand what you're carrying. You think it's just an artifact?" His tone was unreadable. "It's the heart of the Nexus itself."
Riyan felt his stomach drop.
Amara cursed under her breath. "You mean this thing is what's tearing the realms apart?"
Kael nodded. "And it won't stop. Not unless it's controlled. Or destroyed."
The words hit Riyan harder than expected. His breath caught, his fingers reflexively loosening their grip on the artifact. He could barely register the weight of it anymore, only the growing dread spreading through his chest.
He had thought it was just **a key**—something important, but controllable. The idea that it was the Nexus' **heart** changed everything.
"You're telling me that thing is alive?" Amara asked, voice sharp.
Kael's gaze flicked toward her. "Not in the way you think." He turned back to Riyan. "But it's tied to you now. You hold it, and it won't let you go."
The artifact pulsed again, like it was agreeing.
Riyan's legs felt weak.
Kael continued, voice measured. "If you don't figure out how to control it, it will consume you."
Riyan wanted to deny it, to argue, but something deep inside him knew Kael was right. The artifact had already begun changing him—it had protected him, shown him visions, **whispered to him.**
Before he could respond, the air shifted violently. The shadows twisted, pulling inward.
"They found us," Kael said, his voice grim.
From the horizon, **the vampires charged**. Their presence drowned out the faint hum of Nexus energy, their movements impossibly swift. At the front of their formation, leading them like a predator drawn to blood, was the warlord.
Riyan froze, the world narrowing around him.
Kael turned sharply toward Riyan. "You want answers? Then fight."
The battle erupted like a storm unleashed.
Amara moved like lightning, her blade flashing as she met the vampire forces head-on. The Shadowmarked followed suit, their jagged weapons colliding with brutal efficiency. The air thickened with smoke, the ground cracking beneath their feet as Nexus energy surged uncontrollably.
Riyan clutched the artifact tightly. It pulsed violently, demanding **something**—but he didn't know what.
Kael fought fiercely, but his gaze darted toward Riyan between strikes. "You need to use it."
Riyan's breath caught. "I don't know how!"
"Then figure it out fast," Kael snapped.
The warlord moved toward Riyan, his crimson eyes locked onto him. He didn't charge recklessly—no, he moved with the patience of a predator certain of its prey.
Amara fought her way toward Riyan, slicing through the battlefield. "Don't listen to him!" she shouted. "Run—get away from them before they twist your mind!"
Kael ignored her. "The Spire is collapsing, and **you can stop it**—or accelerate it." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Use the artifact, Riyan."
The words hit harder than the battle itself.
His pulse pounded, his breath shallow. He felt **power building inside him**, something vast and uncontrollable. The artifact **wanted to be used**—its energy coiling around him, waiting for his command.
Amara reached him, her expression urgent. "We have to leave!"
Kael stood firm. "Stay, and I'll show you how to control it."
**A choice.**
Escape with Amara? Flee the battlefield, survive another day?
Or stay with Kael and unlock the artifact's truth?
The warlord **closed in**, his weapon raised.
The choice **was his**.