Kaelen stumbled toward the pedestal, each step heavier than the last. Whatever power he’d unleashed had taken its toll, his limbs trembling from exhaustion. Sigrid remained close, her eyes flicking between him and the crystalline shard.

“Don’t touch it yet,” she warned.

Kaelen shot her a tired glance. “Wasn’t planning to. You know me—I never charge in recklessly.”

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

Before he could reply, the crystal shard shimmered, casting faint ripples of light across the chamber. The air grew colder, and a low hum resonated through the space.

“What’s happening now?” Nessa muttered, edging closer to the exit.

The light coalesced, forming a hazy figure above the shard. It resembled a man clad in tattered robes, his face obscured by a hood. His eyes burned with the same eerie green light that had glowed in the beast’s skull.

The figure spoke, its voice echoing as though carried from another realm.

“The Warden has fallen. Who dares trespass upon these sacred grounds?”

Kaelen rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Trespass? We just saved your sacred grounds from that thing.”

The figure ignored him, its gaze fixed on Sigrid.

“You bear the mark of the Silver Wardens. But your companion…” The ghostly eyes shifted to Kaelen, narrowing. “You should not be here, shadow-touched one.”

Kaelen straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Shadow-touched? That supposed to be an insult, or just your way of saying thanks?”

The figure’s expression remained inscrutable. “The shard holds a fragment of the Warden’s soul. It is not meant for you.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Kaelen frowned, glancing at Sigrid. “This Warden guy sounds a bit full of himself. What’s he guarding that’s so important?”

Sigrid’s voice was hushed. “The Silver Wardens were ancient hunters who protected the realms from beasts like the one we just fought. They bound fragments of their souls into objects to ensure their legacy endured. That shard... it’s one of them.”

Kaelen crossed his arms. “Great. So we risked our lives to babysit a piece of ancient ghost.”

The spectral figure flared with light, its tone sharper. “You misunderstand. The shard is a key—a relic tied to powers beyond your comprehension. It cannot fall into unworthy hands.”

Kaelen smirked. “Good thing I’m very worthy, then.”

Before the figure could respond, Sigrid stepped forward. “Enough,” she said firmly. “We didn’t come here to steal your relic. We came to stop the beast and find out why it was here.”

The figure hesitated, its glowing eyes studying her. Finally, it spoke.

“The beast was bound here as a test. Only those who could overcome it were deemed worthy to claim the shard.”

Kaelen groaned. “So it’s some kind of trial. And now that we’ve passed it, what happens?”

“The shard will bind to one among you,” the figure said, its voice resonating with finality. “It will grant strength, but at a cost. Choose wisely.”

Sigrid’s gaze flicked to Kaelen. “You can’t take it. You’ve already got... whatever that is inside you.”

Kaelen shrugged. “And you’ve already got your fancy magic. Seems fair to spread the gifts around.”

“This isn’t a joke,” she snapped. “These relics are dangerous. You can barely stand after using your power earlier. What makes you think you can handle this?”

Kaelen’s grin faded, replaced by a rare seriousness. “Because I’ve been dealing with dangerous things my whole life. One more isn’t going to break me.”

The figure raised a ghostly hand, its ethereal light flickering. “The choice must be made swiftly. The shard will not remain stable for long.”

Kaelen and Sigrid stared at each other, the tension thick. Finally, Kaelen stepped forward.

“Fine,” he said. “If it turns me into some kind of raging monster, just put me down. Deal?”

Sigrid didn’t answer, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Kaelen reached out, his hand closing around the shard. The moment his fingers touched it, a searing heat shot through his arm, and the light from the shard flared blindingly bright.

Kaelen cried out, falling to his knees as the shard dissolved into glowing tendrils of energy that burrowed into his chest. His vision swam, and he felt a presence—ancient, cold, and unyielding—pressing into his mind.

Memories that weren’t his flashed before his eyes: battles fought against towering beasts, rituals performed under blood-red moons, and the endless loneliness of the Warden’s duty.

Then, as quickly as it began, the pain subsided. Kaelen gasped for air, his body trembling. When he looked up, the spectral figure was gone, and the chamber was silent once more.

“Kaelen?” Sigrid asked cautiously.

He stood unsteadily, his eyes flickering with a faint green glow before returning to normal. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice rough. “Just... give me a minute.”

“What did it do to you?” Nessa asked, keeping her distance.

Kaelen glanced at his hands, flexing his fingers. He could feel the shard’s power humming just beneath the surface, a cold fire that he could summon at will.

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “But I think we’ve got bigger problems.”

He gestured to the far end of the chamber, where a newly revealed passage yawned open. From within, a faint, guttural growling echoed.

Sigrid sighed, already preparing another spell. “Of course. Because one fight wasn’t enough.”

Kaelen picked up his sword, the faint green light returning to his eyes. “Good thing we’re not done yet.”