As Cairn woke, the first thing he saw was a woman with red hair, freckles, and light green eyes. She was kneeling beside him, her hands hovering over his ribcage. Strange glowing vines flowed from her palms, weaving into his skin. But her focus wasn't on his ribs — it was deeper, as if she were looking into him.
She chanted softly, spells in a language Cairn couldn't understand. Her voice was calm, melodic, and full of purpose. Then, noticing the stone where his right arm used to be, her eyes widened with curiosity.
"What is that?" she asked, gaze lingering on the glowing arm.
Cairn blinked. "I'd like to know that too. A strange woman gave it to me… and vanished."
He tried to recall the woman's face, but it was like trying to grasp smoke — a fog in his mind.
"Do you know where you are, Cairn?" she asked, with curiosity… and a trace of fear.
Cairn glanced around. The room was strange — filled with floating white orbs that pulsed with a soft light. His expression said it all: he had no idea where he was, or who she was.
"You're at Firefang," the woman explained, "one of the many guilds under the Crest Union. We don't have the best reputation… thanks to some of our members. I'm Maryna, the guild's healer. Are you feeling better?"
Cairn grunted as he sat up, surprisingly strong. "Yeah. I actually feel… better than ever. Thank you for healing me. I don't know how I can repay you."
Maryna smiled and gave him a playful wink.
Cairn froze. A blush crept up his cheeks until his face matched the color of her hair. Not knowing how to respond, he bolted from the room.
Outside, he saw the same people who had been dueling earlier. One of them — a man — now lay unconscious on the floor. There was no blood, no broken bones, only a faint mark on his forehead, likely from the blunt side of a dagger.
As Cairn approached, he saw it again — that strange creature.
The wolf-dragon stood beside the unconscious man, looking down at him with disappointment. As Cairn drew closer, the creature turned its gaze toward him and spoke in a low, echoing voice:
"Tremble not, young one… I carry no malice, only memory."
Cairn froze. Did that creature just… speak?
How can a wolf talk like a human? he thought.
The creature — ancient, majestic, and sorrowful — met his gaze.
"Your eyes say what your tongue does not — you did not expect my voice to carry the shape of men," it said. "I learned it from one who once walked beside me, closer than kin. He spoke of wonder… but craved dominion. His name lies buried in ash and oath-breaker's dust… and with it, much of the Rune Valley."
"The Rune Valley?" Cairn echoed, uncertainty lacing his voice.
The creature folded its great wings closer to its body, as if shielding itself from the memory.
"The Rune Valley was once a cradle of harmony," it said, voice heavy with grief. "Magic flowed pure, and the old kin soared free. But when the runes fell, and silence took root, I was bound — by spell and oath. By the time my chains shattered, the skies had split, the rivers burned, and beasts I once named friend roamed mad with hunger."
A pause.
"All that remained was fire, ruin, and the bones of my kind."
Cairn felt the sorrow in the creature's voice — not just heard it, but felt it, deep in his chest, as if it were his own. A strange connection stirred inside him — sadness, anger, mourning.
"I'm sorry," Cairn said softly. "I'm sorry your kind had to suffer… because of humanity's greed. Is the Rune Valley doomed forever?"
At that moment, the stone at Cairn's side pulsed — a warm, ancient light. A wordless melody rose from it, soft as breath, older than language. The ambient magic within the guild seemed to respond, stirring faintly in time with the rune's melody. Hrothuun's eyes, once dim with memory, lit faintly in its glow.
"Do not mourn what is gone, Shardwalker," he said gently. "The Valley may sleep… but sleep is not death."
His voice was steady, though the sorrow lingered like smoke on still air.
"I once believed the ruin was final — that what the greedy broke could never sing again."He looked at the glowing stone, then back to Cairn."But I feel it stirring now… not in stone, but in you."
A quiet moment passed. The melody shimmered between them.
"You need not fear the Valley. Where the world saw ashes, the runes whispered of one who would walk among what shattered… and choose not power, but purpose."
Cairn felt something awaken inside him. Hope. Resolve. But still, a question remained.
"Shardwalker… what exactly is that?"
His words hung in the air like mist above broken earth.
Hrothuun shifted, his massive form settling with a soft, weighted creak against the stone floor of the guildhall. The light from the levitating orbs flickered slightly, as if caught in the rhythm of something unseen. He lowered his head to meet Cairn's eyes.
A low rumble echoed from deep within his chest before he spoke:
"You seek meaning in a name, Shardwalker. So be it. Hear the truth etched in time."
The chamber grew still. The strange ambient magic in the room seemed to hum — subtly aligning with the soft melody rising from the stone at Cairn's side, as if the air itself remembered.
"A Shardwalker is no title of glory. No prophecy-bound savior. It is a condition — a rare convergence of flesh and rune. A being… not of dragonblood, yet not sundered by the runes' wrath."
His eyes glinted with memory and pain.
"Most who touch the old magicks are unmade. Bones shattered. Minds burned hollow. Yet you endure."
He turned his gaze toward the runic stone where Cairn's arm once was — glowing softly, pulsing in harmony with the air.
"It is not bound to humankind. Nor to kindness alone. There have been others — brief flickers in the dark. Twisted by greed. Broken by power. You are not the first… but perhaps, the first to listen."
As he spoke, the magic of the guild — ambient, unseen — trembled faintly, drawn to the rune's melody. Not violently, but like echoes answering a song.
"You wield the rune… and it does not consume you. That is the mark. That is what you are."
He leaned back slightly, massive wings folding inward, his voice lowering to something nearly reverent.
"You walk among the fragments of a world long lost… and still, the melody finds you. That, Shardwalker, is a mystery even I do not fully grasp."