The journey began under blood-colored skies.
They left the monastery before dawn, following Elric through the forest. Mist clung to the ground, and the air buzzed with unseen energy. Kale felt it with every step — the faint pull of mana veins beneath the earth.
"How far to this gate?" Lyra asked, adjusting the blade strapped to her thigh.
"Three days if the leyline stays stable," Elric said. "If not… longer."
Kale walked quietly behind them, the metal disk — Aurelion's fragment — hanging from a chain around his neck. It pulsed faintly every few hours, as though sensing something ahead.
"You feel it, don't you?" Aurelion's voice murmured. "The road that leads to your end."
Kale ignored him.
The forest grew stranger as they advanced. Trees twisted into shapes that almost looked human, and silver moss glowed faintly underfoot. Occasionally, they passed remnants of old altars — proof that something ancient had once ruled these lands.
Lyra stopped suddenly, eyes narrowing. "We're being watched."
Elric raised his staff. "Don't attack unless they do."
A shadow flickered between the trees — fast, silent. Then another.
In seconds, they were surrounded.
Kale's pulse spiked. He counted at least six figures, all cloaked in gray fur and bone armor. Their eyes glowed amber in the half-light.
"Werebeasts," Elric whispered. "Shapeshifters."
One stepped forward — a tall, lean man with scars across his face. His voice was low and rough. "You walk on our ground."
Elric bowed slightly. "We seek passage to Vareth. We mean no harm."
The shapeshifter sniffed the air. His eyes locked onto Kale.
"You carry corruption," he said. "Cursed fire. Why should we let that pass through our land?"
Kale stepped forward before Elric could respond. "Because if you don't, the Coven will burn this place to ashes trying to find me."
The shapeshifter studied him — then smiled faintly. "Bold words from a boy who smells of death."
"Try me," Kale said, mana flickering faintly in his eyes.
Lyra tensed beside him. "Kale—"
But the leader raised a hand. "Peace. I like this one."
He turned, gesturing for the others to lower their weapons. "The leyline gate lies ahead, but it's guarded — not by us, but by what remains of the old magic. If he can open it, he earns his path."
"What kind of guard?" Kale asked.
The shapeshifter's grin widened. "A spirit older than your curse."
The forest parted ahead, revealing a wide clearing — and in its center, a pool of black water that shimmered like glass. Symbols floated above it, spinning slowly.
Elric nodded solemnly. "The Gate of Vareth."
Kale stepped toward it, feeling a low hum echo through his bones. The disk around his neck grew hot — brighter, faster.
"Go on," Aurelion whispered. "Prove you're worthy to enter my tomb."
Kale raised his hand — and the water trembled.
A column of light shot upward, blinding. The runes around the pool blazed alive, and a deep voice spoke from within the mist:
"WHO SUMMONS THE PATH OF THE FORSAKEN?"
Kale's heart pounded. "Kale Arden… son of the cursed."
"THE BLOOD OF AURELION FLOWS IN YOU," the voice thundered.
"WILL YOU FOLLOW HIS FATE OR BREAK IT?"
Kale's jaw tightened. "I'll make my own."
Silence.
Then, the mist parted — forming a glowing archway of blue fire.
Lyra exhaled softly. "You did it."
Elric smiled faintly. "The Gate accepts you. The path to Vareth is open."
As they stepped through, Aurelion's laughter echoed faintly in Kale's mind — cold and knowing.
"Welcome home."