The night deepened, cloaking the forest in a suffocating darkness.
Kaelen sat huddled against the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, his breath steaming in the cold air. The shard from the locket lay on the ground before him, its metallic surface gleaming faintly with an inner light.
He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Elder Hollow burning. Heard the screams. Smelled the blood and ash.
*"Find the Warden's Tomb,"* Garron had said.
But Kaelen didn't even know where the Veilwood was, much less some ancient tomb buried inside it.
His stomach growled painfully. He hadn't eaten since midday, before the attack. He needed food, shelter, a plan. But most of all, he needed answers.
Carefully, he picked up the shard again, half-expecting another burst of visions.
Nothing happened this time — only a faint warmth that seeped into his fingers.
He turned it over. Along one jagged edge, there were markings — not letters exactly, but runes — swirling and ancient.
*"Warden..."* he whispered aloud.
The word felt heavy in his mouth, like an oath.
Suddenly, the underbrush to his right rustled violently.
Kaelen leapt to his feet, heart hammering.
He groped for a weapon — a stick, a rock, anything — but there was nothing.
From the shadows emerged a wild boar, eyes gleaming red in the moonlight. It wasn't natural — no boar he'd ever seen had that savage glint, nor the twisted horns sprouting from its brow.
The beast lowered its head, pawed the earth, and charged.
**Kaelen moved without thinking.**
His body felt lighter, faster — as if something ancient had awoken in his blood.
He dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the boar's tusks, and snatched up a broken branch. As the beast wheeled around for another charge, Kaelen planted his feet.
*"Now!"* his instincts screamed.
As the boar lunged, he drove the shard into its exposed flank.
The creature shrieked — a terrible, inhuman sound — and thrashed violently. Kaelen barely managed to rip the shard free and stumble back.
The boar collapsed, black ichor oozing from its wound, steam rising as it twitched once... then lay still.
Kaelen stood over it, panting heavily, the shard dripping with dark blood.
The realization struck him hard.
This wasn't just some relic.
The shard was a weapon — or part of one.
But even more terrifying was the knowledge that whatever corrupted the boar could just as easily happen to greater beasts... or worse, men.
He wiped the shard clean and tucked it carefully into his belt.
He couldn't survive like this — not alone, not ignorant.
If he wanted to live... if he wanted to *fight*... he needed power.
Real power.
And to get that, he had to find the Warden's Tomb.
Kaelen set off again, deeper into the woods, following a path he couldn't see but somehow felt.
The forest around him shifted — older trees, thicker mists — as if the land itself recognized him, pulling him forward.
Unseen eyes watched from the darkness.
Whispers curled through the mist, half-formed words lost to the wind.
He should have been afraid.
But something inside Kaelen stirred — a memory not his own, a defiance as old as the mountains.
For the first time in his life, Kaelen Drayke didn't feel like a scared village boy.
He felt like something... more.
The last of the Wardens.