The morning after the ambush dawned in red.
Dust clung to the caravan like old ash. The dead had been buried. The wounded moaned softly under makeshift bandages. But Kael wasn't among them.
He was crouched beside a dying bandit who hadn't perished with the rest.
The man's breaths were ragged, blood pooling beneath him. One hand clutched a bone talisman—blackened, carved with spiraling runes.
Kael tried to pry it free. The man's eyes snapped open, wild with fever.
"You can't—touch it bare."
Kael froze. "What is it?"
The bandit wheezed a laugh. "You don't know? Then the Gate will eat you alive."
He coughed blood, then shoved the talisman into Kael's hand.
"Bone remembers," he whispered. "It remembers what the blood forgets."
Then he went still.
As Kael held the talisman, his Blood Core surged.
The world went dark—and something ancient pulled him under.
He stood in a memory not his own.
Twin moons hung low in a violet sky, and below them, a great host of warriors screamed in terror as Vyr-spawn descended. Serpentine limbs. Bladed tongues. Flesh that writhed and shimmered like liquid nightmares.
At the heart of the carnage stood a crimson figure, armored in bone and wrapped in fire—a Vyr general, roaring defiance as he was consumed.
Kael clutched his skull and screamed.
The vision shattered.
He stumbled back to camp, pale and shaking.
Sorella saw his state and ran to him. "What happened?"
Kael opened his hand. The talisman glowed faintly, pulsing in sync with the bloodstone compass.
"It's guiding us," he said. "To something old… something buried."
Tarren frowned. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"No," Kael said. "But it's the only path forward."
He looked to the horizon.
Beyond the hills, the sky darkened unnaturally—as if the land itself were holding its breath.
As they moved, the road twisted with bones—some small as birds, others massive and broken as siege towers.
The compass beat harder the closer they got.
And in the distance, etched into the cliffs like a scar in time, the Gate of Bone & Blood awaited.
Two massive rib-like arches, fused with old stone and iron, towered into the sky.
The caravan stopped.
No birds. No wind. Just silence.
Kael stepped forward. The talisman and compass both pulsed together—then stopped. Dead still.
He turned to his companions. "Beyond this gate… nothing will be the same."
Tarren murmured, "Was it ever?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Not really."
He walked toward the Gate.
And it opened on its own.
As Kael crossed the threshold, the bone underfoot whispered in a language older than fear.
And somewhere, deep beneath the Gate, something stirred.