In the Aftermath
The sunrise over the ruins of Thaldris Keep painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, but there was no peace in the air. Smoke still rose from the destroyed forge, and the distant sounds of soldiers regrouping echoed through the valley. Eren, Lyssandra, and Kieran had taken shelter in a dense thicket of trees a few miles from the keep, their breaths still ragged from the escape.
Eren's hands trembled as he inspected the shard in his possession. The explosion of the forge had resonated through it, its glow dimming and flickering like a candle in the wind. The once stable energy felt unstable, like a storm brewing within a fragile vessel.
"What's wrong with it?" Lyssandra asked, her voice laced with concern.
Eren shook his head. "I don't know. The destruction of the forge must've disrupted its balance. It's... volatile."
Kieran sat nearby, binding a wound on his arm. "Volatile is an understatement. If that thing destabilizes further, it could take all of us with it."
Eren clenched his fist around the shard. "I'll keep it under control. We can't afford to lose it—not when it might be the only way to understand what the Broken Throne is truly after."
Lyssandra knelt beside him, her gaze steady. "But at what cost, Eren? These shards have already claimed too many lives. If it comes down to it, will you be able to let it go?"
Eren didn't answer. Instead, he stood and turned his attention to the horizon, where the smoldering ruins of the keep were barely visible.
An Uneasy Alliance
Kieran leaned against a tree, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. "So, what's the plan now? You've taken out one of their bases, but the Broken Throne has more resources than you can imagine. Thaldris Keep was a small operation compared to their main stronghold."
Lyssandra crossed her arms. "And where is this stronghold?"
Kieran hesitated, his expression guarded. "It's not a place you can just walk into. They've built it into the Wyrmspire, a fortress carved into the side of a mountain. It's heavily fortified, and the terrain alone is deadly."
Eren's gaze was unwavering. "Then that's where we'll go."
Kieran raised an eyebrow. "You're serious? You'd need an army to even get close."
Lyssandra smirked. "We don't need an army. We've gotten this far without one."
Kieran sighed. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that. But if you're set on this, we'll need more than just courage. We'll need allies, resources, and a plan."
Eren nodded. "Then we start with allies. There are others who've suffered under the Broken Throne's tyranny. It's time to find them and unite against a common enemy."
A Call to Arms
The journey to Wyrmspire would be long and perilous, but the first step was rallying those who could stand against the Broken Throne. Their first destination was the city of Vorthal, a bastion of free merchants and mercenaries who valued their independence above all else.
The trio traveled for days, navigating treacherous forests and barren plains. Along the way, they encountered remnants of the Broken Throne's influence—burned villages, enslaved survivors, and scattered patrols searching for fugitives.
Eren's resolve only hardened with each passing sight. "This is what they bring—destruction and suffering. We can't stop now."
Lyssandra placed a hand on his shoulder. "And we won't. But we have to be smart about this. Charging in headfirst will only get us killed."
Kieran, walking a few steps behind, chuckled. "She's right, you know. Passion's good, but strategy wins wars."
Eren glanced back at him. "Then start strategizing. You're with us now."
Vorthal's Gates
Vorthal was a sprawling city surrounded by high walls and bustling with activity. Merchants haggled over prices, mercenaries sharpened their weapons, and street performers entertained crowds in the open squares. The city's chaotic energy was a stark contrast to the destruction they had left behind.
As they approached the gates, the guards eyed them warily. "State your business," one of them demanded.
Kieran stepped forward, adopting a confident demeanor. "We're here to hire a few blades and spend some coin. Nothing more."
The guard studied them for a moment before nodding. "Don't cause trouble, and you won't find any."
Once inside, they wasted no time making their way to the city's largest tavern, The Gilded Fang. The establishment was a hub of activity, filled with mercenaries looking for work and merchants seeking protection.
Eren scanned the room, his eyes landing on a group of warriors seated at a corner table. Their leader, a burly woman with a scar running down her cheek, exuded an air of authority.
"That's our target," Eren said, nodding toward her.
Lyssandra frowned. "She doesn't look like the trusting type."
"She doesn't have to trust us," Eren replied. "She just has to want the Broken Throne gone."
A Proposal of Blood and Fire
Approaching the group, Eren met the leader's gaze. "I hear you're not afraid to take on dangerous jobs."
The woman leaned back in her chair, studying him. "Depends on the job. And the pay."
Eren placed a pouch of coins on the table. "We're going after the Broken Throne."
The room seemed to grow quieter at his words. The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances, and the leader's expression darkened.
"That's not a job," she said. "That's suicide."
Eren leaned closer, his voice steady. "Maybe. But if we don't stop them, they'll come for this city eventually. They won't leave anyone standing."
The leader was silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't be enough. If you want our help, you'll need to prove you're serious."
"How?" Eren asked.
"There's a camp of theirs not far from here," she said. "Take it out. Show me you can fight."
Eren smirked. "Consider it done."
To Be Continued...