By midday, the heat had turned unbearable. The second sun bore down like a curse, and the air shimmered with it. Kael walked past the lower districts of the Ash Scavenger compound, slipping between broken spires and melted signage—remnants of a world too ancient for anyone to fully remember. Most of Thaelora had long since forgotten what these ruins had once been.
His legs ached. His ribs throbbed. And yet, he kept walking.
People rarely spoke to Kael unless it was to insult him or issue an order. Today was no different. A group of young scavenger recruits laughed as he passed, calling him "scrapmeat" and "Ashrat." He said nothing. He'd learned early on: respond, and they hit harder.
He ducked into a narrow alley where a cooling duct vented lukewarm air. The break was brief, just enough for his breath to steady. Then he pressed on.
He had just returned from the smithshed when the order came.
"Kael," Raghn growled from behind a half-sunken crate. "Take this. And don't come back until it's in the ruin."
Raghn shoved a bundled cloth into Kael's hands—heavier than it looked, warm like it held a low charge.
"Where?" Kael asked, already regretting the question.
"Old breaker site. Western fringe. You know the one."
Kael stiffened. The old ruin—"the Broken Vein," they called it—had long been rumored cursed. Anyone sent there either returned shaken or didn't return at all.
But he nodded. Because saying no wasn't an option.
As he turned to leave, Raghn added, "Drop it in the center vault. You'll know it when you see it. Don't touch anything else. And if you're not back by nightfall, don't bother coming back at all."
So Kael walked. Past the crater wall and into the scrub, through dry gullies and wind-blasted rock. The path narrowed to a single trail of scorched stone and brittle weeds.
He found the ruin where the earth dipped like a broken lung. Half the structure had collapsed inward, jagged rebar like ribs reaching skyward. A tangle of scorched girders crowned the ruin's edge, rust bleeding into the dirt.
Kael hesitated at the mouth of the ruin.
Inside, it was darker than he expected. Light filtered through slits in the ceiling, painting ghostly rays across shattered tiles. Each step stirred up dust that stung his throat.
The silence pressed in, thick and watchful.
He crept forward, fingers brushing the wall for balance. Symbols traced the stone—thin, glowing lines like veins under skin. He blinked. They hadn't glowed before. Or had they?
The deeper he moved, the more the air hummed. A pulsing, rhythmic vibration buzzed in his bones.
He reached a wide chamber—circular, its ceiling collapsed but still partially intact. At the center, a cradle of twisted metal held a relic core, dull and cracked. It called to him—not with words, but with something lower, older.
He unwrapped the bundle. The new relic was smaller than he expected—cylindrical, etched with similar glowing veins.
His hand trembled as he slotted it into the core.
The hum stopped.
Then, all at once, the chamber came alive.
Veins lit up across the walls. Dust rose in spirals. Kael's vision twisted—suddenly he was not alone. The chamber was whole. The air was warm with firelight. Shadows moved across gleaming metal walls. Figures—tall, robed—spoke in a tongue he couldn't comprehend. Then, the floor split open. Fire bled through stone.
Kael staggered back. The vision vanished.
But the core pulsed now—faint blue light leaking from every crack.
He turned to flee—
—and the relic exploded.
A blue flame erupted outward, engulfing him. Not burning. Not scalding.
But changing.
Kael screamed as the world went white.
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End of Chapter Two.