The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and forgotten memories as Kael, Lyra, and Darric approached the looming silhouette of the Hollow Spire. Jagged and ancient, it clawed at the storm-gray sky, a relic of the Sovereign age, half-swallowed by creeping Veil corruption.
Kael's crimson eyes flickered beneath his hood, tracing the runes faintly glowing along the spire's cracked surface. The texts recovered from this place weeks ago spoke of a power sealed within — a secret Malrik's forces would kill to possess.
Darric tightened his grip on his warblade, muscles coiled. "The Black Host moves swiftly. If they reach the Spire before us, all is lost."
Lyra's voice was calm but sharp. "Veilspawn patrols nearby, more than usual. They've sensed something."
Kael nodded. "Then we make them regret crossing paths."
They slipped into the shadowed foothills, the ruins of old temples and shattered statues whispering warnings long forgotten. Every step forward brought a rising hum — a pulse in the air like a heartbeat matching the Crimson Mark embedded deep in Kael's chest.
Suddenly, from the mist, Veilspawn emerged—twisted horrors with jagged limbs and mouths full of voidfire. The Black Host was already here.
Kael drew Ashrend, the blade roaring with crimson energy. His aura flared, casting long red shadows that danced with deadly intent.
"Hold steady," Kael commanded. "Strike hard and fast."
Lyra vanished into the treeline, her arrows singing death to the Veilspawn ranks. Darric charged with a war cry, smashing through the enemy front.
Kael's blade traced arcs of searing light, each strike cleaving through blackened flesh and unholy armor. The ground shook as a massive Veilspawn general stepped forward — a beast fused with broken chains and corrupted steel.
"Your kind desecrates sacred ground," Kael growled, stepping forward, aura intensifying.
The creature responded with a roar, hurling a volley of dark energy. Kael's cloak whipped around him as he dashed through the storm, Ashrend slicing the shadows.
Time slowed. The Mark flared brighter, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. Kael's body ignited with crimson spark, flames wrapping his form like living fire.
With a shout, Kael unleashed his newfound power — a whirlwind of blazing strikes and thunderous energy that shattered the Veilspawn's assault.
"Crimson Brand!" he called, voice slicing the cold air.
The general staggered, flames licking through its armor until Kael's blade found its throat — a clean, decisive strike.
The beast's head rolled, eyes dimming as the crimson energy seared its very soul.
Kael exhaled, chest heaving. Around him, the battlefield fell silent save for the crackle of dying embers.
Lyra reemerged, her eyes reflecting a mix of awe and worry. "You've done it. But they'll come back stronger."
Darric knelt, pressing a hand to the earth, feeling the fading pulse of the Veil's corruption. "This is just the beginning."
Kael sheathed Ashrend, the weight of destiny settling heavy on his shoulders. "We've awakened something in the Hollow Spire… and something has recognized me."
His voice was low but certain — a whisper of dread and promise.
Far above, hidden watchers stirred in the shadows, their eyes glowing with ancient knowledge.
The return of the Crimson Brand had begun. And the world would never be the same again.