The morning arrived with a muted gray light, filtering through the thick canopy above. The world felt damp and cold, the forest heavy with mist that clung to the ground like a living thing. I hadn’t slept much after the dream, the voice’s cryptic words gnawing at the edges of my mind.

The others stirred one by one. Jessa was the first to rise, her movements sharp and precise as always. She didn’t say anything, just began methodically packing her gear. Farron stretched lazily in his bedroll, muttering something about hating mornings, while Orin was already sharpening his knife, the soft scraping sound filling the quiet air.

“You look worse than usual,” Farron said, giving me a once-over as I sat by the dwindling fire.

“Thanks,” I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Bad dreams?” he asked, his tone lighter but not entirely unserious.

“Something like that,” I said.

As we broke camp and started south again, the weight of the dream stayed with me. The words felt important, like a warning—or maybe a challenge.

You are not the first. But you may be the last.

What did it mean? Had there been other Chosen Ones before me? If so, what had happened to them?

I glanced at Jessa as we walked. She moved with the focus and precision of someone who always had a plan, but even she didn’t have all the answers.

For now, all I could do was keep moving and hope that the resistance could provide some clarity.

The terrain grew rougher as the day went on, the forest giving way to rocky hills and narrow, twisting paths. The trees here were sparse, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. The mist had burned off under the rising sun, leaving the air crisp and cold.

We moved carefully, sticking to the natural cover where we could. Ecclesion patrols were known to roam these lands, and none of us wanted to risk another encounter.

Farron walked beside me, his bow in hand, his eyes scanning the horizon.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a while.

“Just thinking,” I replied.

“Dangerous habit,” he said with a grin. “What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated, then sighed. “That voice back in the temple. It said I wasn’t the first Chosen One.”

Farron raised an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s... unsettling.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And it said I might be the last.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “no pressure, right?”

When we stopped for a brief rest, I finally brought it up to the group.

“So,” I said, keeping my voice low, “do any of you know if there have been other Chosen Ones? Before me, I mean.”

Jessa and Orin exchanged a glance.

“There are... stories,” Jessa said cautiously.

“Stories?” I pressed.

“Old records, fragments from the time before Ecclesion,” she said. “The resistance has been collecting them for years. They talk about others who were ‘chosen’ to challenge great powers, but the details are vague.”

“And those others?” I asked. “What happened to them?”

Jessa’s expression darkened. “None of the stories end well.”

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. If I wasn’t the first Chosen One, and none of the others had succeeded, what chance did I have?

“Look,” Farron said, nudging me with his elbow. “You’re here now, and you’ve already done more than most people would. That counts for something.”

“Maybe,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” he said. “One step at a time, Chosen One.”

The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon when we crested a hill and caught sight of the land below.

The southern mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks shrouded in mist. Between us and the mountains lay a vast expanse of rolling plains, dotted with clusters of trees and rocky outcroppings.

Jessa knelt, pulling out her map and scanning the terrain.

“We’ll need to cross the plains quickly,” she said. “There’s a village a day’s journey from here. If we can reach it by tomorrow night, we can resupply and rest before heading into the mountains.”

“Assuming the village is still friendly,” Orin said, his tone grim.

“It’s a risk we have to take,” Jessa said.

We descended into the plains, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the grass. The air was cooler here, the wind sweeping across the open land in gentle waves.

For the first time in what felt like days, the tension eased slightly. The open sky was a welcome change from the oppressive weight of the forest and the temple.

Farron took a deep breath, his grin returning. “You know, this place isn’t half bad. I might actually relax if we weren’t being hunted by an unstoppable empire.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jessa said, her eyes scanning the horizon. “The plains are wide, but that means we’re exposed. If Ecclesion has scouts out here...”

She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to.

As the last light of the day faded, we found shelter in a small hollow near a cluster of rocks. The fire was small and carefully concealed, casting just enough light to warm us without drawing attention.

Jessa sat with the map spread out on her lap, while Orin sharpened his knife in silence. Farron leaned against a rock, plucking idly at a blade of grass.

I stared into the fire, the voice from the temple still echoing in my mind.

“Why now?” I asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Jessa looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The Light Eternal’s been around for centuries,” I said. “If there were other Chosen Ones before me, why did it pick me now? Why not someone else?”

Jessa was silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

“Maybe because Ecclesion’s stronger than it’s ever been,” she said. “Their control is spreading, their power growing. If they aren’t stopped soon, there might not be anything left to save.”

“Or maybe,” Farron said, his tone lighter, “the universe finally decided to roll the dice on someone weird enough to make it interesting.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound felt hollow.

As the fire burned low, I leaned back against the rocks, staring up at the stars.

The mountains loomed in the distance, their dark shapes barely visible against the night sky.

We had a long journey ahead of us, and the weight of what lay at the end of it was heavier than ever.

But for the first time, I felt a flicker of determination.

Whatever had brought me here, whatever had chosen me, I wasn’t going to let it end the way the stories said it would.

I wasn’t just running anymore.

I was going to fight.

The fire crackled softly as the group fell into a tired silence. The night around us was eerily calm, the stillness of the plains broken only by the faint rustle of wind through the grass. I stayed awake, staring into the embers and letting my thoughts drift.

The mountains felt closer now, not just as a destination but as a threshold. Whatever waited for us in the stronghold of the resistance—and beyond that, the other Nexuses—would define the rest of this journey. Maybe even decide if it had any hope of success.

I gripped my dagger tightly, the familiar hum of its dark energy pulsing faintly against my palm. For a moment, I wondered if it felt the same weight of expectation that I did.

Farron broke the quiet, his voice cutting through the stillness. “What’s it like?”

I glanced at him, confused. “What’s what like?”

“Being the Chosen One,” he said, his tone unusually thoughtful. “All this weight on your shoulders, this prophecy nonsense. How do you not go completely insane?”

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I don’t think I’ve figured that part out yet.”

Farron chuckled, tossing a stick into the fire. “Fair. You’re doing better than I would, though. If someone told me I was supposed to save the world, I’d probably just laugh and go hide in a cave somewhere.”

“You’re not exactly helping,” I said, though a small smile crept onto my face.

“I’m just saying,” he continued. “For someone who’s making this up as they go, you’re holding up alright.”

Jessa looked up from the map, her sharp eyes narrowing. “He’s holding up because we’re all holding up. This isn’t something you get through alone.”

“That’s comforting,” I said dryly. “But it’s still my name in the prophecy, not yours.”

“And that means you have to carry it,” Jessa said, her tone softer than usual. “But you’re not the only one walking this road. Remember that.”

The words lingered as we settled in for the night, taking turns on watch.

When it was my turn, I sat by the dying fire, my dagger resting across my lap. The plains stretched out in every direction, endless and empty under the moonlight.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching us.

The quiet was too perfect, the air too still. My eyes scanned the horizon, looking for movement in the tall grass, but there was nothing.

“Get a grip, Ash,” I muttered to myself.

But the unease didn’t go away.

By dawn, the wind had picked up, carrying the sharp, earthy scent of the plains. The sky was pale and cloudless, the sunlight stark and unforgiving.

Jessa was the first to speak as we prepared to move out. “We’ll reach the village by nightfall if we keep up the pace. Stick to the low ground and avoid open areas as much as possible.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Farron said, stretching. “Let’s just hope the locals are friendly.”

“They’ll be cautious,” Jessa said, rolling up the map. “If they’re harboring resistance sympathizers, they’ll want to make sure we’re not Ecclesion spies.”

“Great,” Farron said. “More suspicious stares and awkward silences. My favorite.”

The day passed in a blur of cautious movement and wary glances over our shoulders. The plains felt vast and exposed, the wind sweeping across the grass in waves that shimmered like water.

Farron kept pace beside me, his bow ready in his hand. Jessa led the way, her steps confident but quiet, while Orin brought up the rear, his knife gleaming in the sunlight.

The mountains loomed larger with every step, their jagged peaks cutting into the horizon like broken teeth.

“How much farther?” I asked, breaking the long silence.

“Not far,” Jessa said without looking back. “The village should be just beyond that ridge.”

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When we crested the ridge, the village came into view—a cluster of small, weathered buildings surrounded by fields of dry grass. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, and faint figures moved between the houses.

It was small, isolated, and easy to miss.

Perfect for people trying to stay hidden.

“Looks quiet,” Farron said, squinting at the scene.

“For now,” Jessa said. “Stay sharp. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

As we approached the village, the figures in the fields stopped what they were doing, their eyes following us warily. A few of them murmured to each other, disappearing into their homes as we passed.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with suspicion.

“I thought we were supposed to be the good guys,” Farron muttered.

“Good doesn’t mean welcome,” Orin said quietly.

Jessa stopped in front of the largest building—a simple structure with a sagging roof and a hand-carved sign that read Haven’s Rest.

“This is probably the inn,” she said. “Let me do the talking.”

Farron smirked. “What, you don’t trust me to make a good impression?”

“No,” she said flatly, pushing the door open.

The interior of the inn was dimly lit, with rough wooden tables and a stone hearth crackling softly in the corner. A few patrons sat scattered around the room, their conversations falling silent as we entered.

Behind the bar, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and tired eyes looked up from a ledger.

“Travelers?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“That’s right,” Jessa said, stepping forward. “We’re passing through. Looking for food and rest.”

The man studied her for a long moment before nodding. “We don’t see many strangers these days. Especially armed ones.”

“Times are dangerous,” Jessa said evenly.

“Aren’t they just,” the man replied, his gaze flicking to the rest of us. “Keep your weapons sheathed and your heads down, and there won’t be any trouble.”

We settled into a corner table, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. The villagers kept their distance, their eyes darting toward us every so often as though trying to figure out who—or what—we were.

“This place is on edge,” Farron whispered, leaning close.

“Good,” Jessa said. “That means they’re not under Ecclesion’s thumb. Yet.”

I glanced around the room, my hand resting on my dagger beneath the table. The unease from the previous night hadn’t left me, and the suspicious stares weren’t helping.

Something about this village felt... fragile, like it was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

“Do you think they know about the resistance?” I asked quietly.

Jessa’s expression was unreadable. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

As the evening wore on, the tension in the room began to ease slightly, though the stares never completely stopped.

The barkeep approached our table, setting down a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. “You’ve got the look of people running from something,” he said, his voice low.

“Maybe,” Jessa said carefully.

The man studied her for a moment before leaning in closer. “If you’re running from Ecclesion, you’d best tread lightly. Their eyes are everywhere these days.”

“Are they watching here?” Jessa asked.

The man hesitated, then nodded. “They’ve passed through. Asked questions. Didn’t like the answers they got.”

“What happened?” I asked.

He glanced toward the door, his expression grim. “A few people disappeared. No one asks too many questions after that.”

When the man left, Jessa turned to us, her voice low. “We’re not staying long. We’ll rest tonight and leave at first light.”

“Agreed,” Orin said. “This place is walking a fine line, and we don’t want to be the ones to tip it over.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened.

We were heading deeper into Ecclesion’s shadow.

And the closer we got to the mountains, the more dangerous the road was going to become.

The air in the inn was heavy with unspoken tension, but my thoughts were already drifting beyond the village’s walls. The barkeep’s warning about Ecclesion lingered, but it wasn’t just their reach that concerned me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the temple, the voice, and the other Nexuses scattered across Kaedralis.

If Ecclesion was the dominant force in this world, what about the others Jessa had mentioned—the southern territories, the northern clans? And then there were the whispers of something greater in the east, though no one had spoken of it directly.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Jessa, you mentioned that Ecclesion doesn’t control everything. What about the places they don’t?”

Her eyes flicked to mine, then to the others around the room before she spoke. “There are a few, but calling them ‘safe’ is a stretch. It’s not just Ecclesion we have to worry about.”

Farron raised an eyebrow. “Oh, here we go. Let me guess—another empire waiting to swoop in and crush us?”

“Not quite,” Jessa said. She pulled the map from her pack, spreading it across the table and gesturing to the southern region. “Down here, you’ve got the Freeholds. Dozens of city-states, each one fiercely independent. They’ve resisted Ecclesion’s influence for years, but that’s only because they spend most of their time fighting each other.”

“Sounds charming,” Farron said.

“It’s chaos,” Jessa replied. “And if we’re heading for the mountains, we’ll be skirting the edge of their territory. Some of them trade with Ecclesion, some outright hate them, and a few just see war as an opportunity.”

“What about the resistance?” I asked. “Do they have allies there?”

Jessa hesitated. “A few. The Freeholds aren’t unified, but some of their leaders are sympathetic to our cause. Convincing them to help, though... that’s a different story.”

Orin leaned over the map, his knife tapping lightly against the northern border. “Then there’s the clans. They’re a different kind of problem. Ecclesion’s never fully conquered them—too remote, too spread out—but that doesn’t mean they’re friendly.”

“What are they like?” I asked.

“Hard,” Orin said simply. “The north is brutal—snow, ice, and mountains as far as the eye can see. The clans are survivors, but they don’t trust outsiders. If you want their help, you’ll need to prove yourself.”

“Prove myself how?” I asked warily.

He smirked faintly. “Depends on the clan. Some respect strength. Others value cunning. Either way, they don’t take kindly to people telling them what to do.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered.

Jessa tapped a spot to the far east, beyond the borders marked on the map. The space was blank, but her expression was grim.

“And then there’s the Shattered Realms,” she said.

“Never heard of them,” Farron said, leaning in.

“Most people haven’t,” Jessa replied. “It’s not a single kingdom or nation—it’s a wasteland. Ruins of something ancient, older than the empire Ecclesion rose from. There are stories about what’s out there—monsters, ghosts, and worse—but no one knows for sure.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “The resistance thinks one of the Nexuses is there.”

Jessa nodded. “If Ecclesion’s control is weakest anywhere, it’s there. But that doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

I stared at the map, the enormity of our task sinking in. Ecclesion’s power was vast, but the world beyond them was no less dangerous.

“So, let me get this straight,” Farron said, ticking off on his fingers. “We’ve got the Freeholds, who might stab us in the back for profit. The clans, who’ll probably kill us just for showing up. And a haunted wasteland full of things that’ll eat us alive. Did I miss anything?”

“Ecclesion hunting us every step of the way,” Orin added.

“Ah, yes,” Farron said, grinning. “How could I forget?”

“This isn’t a game,” Jessa snapped, her voice sharp. “Every one of these places is a potential ally—or an enemy. How we approach them matters.”

I nodded, though my thoughts were elsewhere. The Nexuses were the key, and Ecclesion knew it. The farther we pushed into these dangerous territories, the more desperate they’d become to stop us.

“Do we know where to start?” I asked, my voice quieter.

“The mountains,” Jessa said firmly. “The resistance has been working to map the Nexuses for years. If anyone has answers, it’s them.”

“And after that?”

She hesitated. “After that, we’ll have to decide which Nexus to target first. Each one we sever will weaken Ecclesion’s hold, but it’ll also make them more aggressive.”

“Which means we’ll have to move fast,” Orin said.

“Right,” Jessa said. “We’ll need to secure allies where we can, gather resources, and strike before Ecclesion can regroup.”

The barkeep returned, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. He placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of each of us, his eyes lingering on the map.

“You’re heading south,” he said quietly.

Jessa didn’t respond, but her silence was answer enough.

The barkeep nodded grimly. “Watch yourselves. The Freeholds don’t like strangers, especially ones with a cause. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up dead—or worse.”

“Worse?” Farron asked, raising an eyebrow.

The man’s expression darkened. “The Freeholds are full of people looking for an edge. If they think Ecclesion will pay for you, they won’t hesitate to turn you in.”

“Good to know,” Jessa said, her tone cool.

As the barkeep moved away, I pushed the bowl of stew around with my spoon, my appetite fading.

“We can’t trust anyone, can we?” I said softly.

“Trust is earned,” Jessa replied. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use what’s in front of us. Every faction Ecclesion hasn’t crushed is a thread we can pull. If we do it right, we can unravel their control from the edges.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we’re as good as dead,” Orin said bluntly.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, the sound a faint comfort against the weight of the conversation.

The Freeholds, the northern clans, the Shattered Realms... each one represented a new layer of danger, but also potential salvation.

“We start with the resistance,” Jessa said, folding the map and tucking it away. “They’re our best chance at navigating this. Without their support, we won’t get far.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened.

The road ahead was longer and darker than I’d imagined.

But if we could gather allies—if we could find a way to sever the Nexuses—there was still hope.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough to keep moving.

The conversation at the table waned, leaving only the sound of our spoons scraping against bowls and the muted hum of low conversation from the other patrons in the inn. Despite the tension of the day, the stew was hearty and warm, filling the gnawing emptiness in my stomach.

But it did nothing to settle the restlessness twisting inside me.

“We should get some sleep,” Jessa said, breaking the silence. She leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “Tomorrow’s going to be hard, and we’ll need all the energy we can get.”

Orin nodded, his knife now sheathed at his belt. Farron sighed but pushed his empty bowl away with a theatrical flourish.

“Hard roads, hostile locals, and Ecclesion breathing down our necks,” he said. “Just another day in paradise.”

“Get used to it,” Jessa replied, standing. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Comforting,” Farron muttered, though he didn’t argue.

The innkeeper showed us to a cramped room upstairs, its three beds barely enough to accommodate us. Orin volunteered to take the floor near the door, his knife resting within easy reach, while Farron sprawled on one of the beds with a satisfied sigh.

“You snore, I’m kicking you out,” Jessa warned, taking the bed nearest the window.

“I don’t snore,” Farron said, already pulling a blanket over himself.

“You do,” Orin said flatly.

“Do not.”

I took the last bed, sitting on the edge as I unbuckled my belt and set my dagger on the nightstand. My eyes drifted to the window, where the faint glow of the moon outlined the distant mountains.

“You alright?” Jessa asked, her voice low.

“Yeah,” I said, though the weight in my chest told a different story. “Just... thinking.”

“Don’t let it eat at you,” she said. “We all have doubts. The trick is not letting them stop you.”

I nodded, though her words felt like small comfort against the enormity of what lay ahead.

The night passed uneventfully, but my dreams were restless, filled with fragmented images of glowing runes, shadowed figures, and the haunting voice from the Nexus.

When dawn came, the light creeping through the window felt almost jarring, too bright against the memories of the darkness I couldn’t shake.

We packed quickly, slipping out of the inn as the village began to stir. The barkeep nodded at us as we left, though his expression was wary.

“Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” Jessa said curtly, leading us out into the open air.

The plains stretched out before us, the mountains growing larger with each step. The cold wind bit at my skin, but the brisk air helped keep me focused.

As we walked, I fell into step beside Jessa, my curiosity finally getting the better of me.

“You mentioned the Freeholds are fragmented,” I said. “But are there any leaders who might be willing to help us?”

“There are a few,” she said, her voice even. “Some have been openly hostile to Ecclesion for years, but they’re outnumbered by those who are too focused on their own wealth and power to care.”

“Sounds like a mess,” I said.

“It is,” Jessa replied. “But that’s what makes them valuable. Ecclesion hasn’t been able to unify the Freeholds, and that’s worked in our favor. If we can rally the right leaders, we might be able to turn the chaos against them.”

“And the resistance?” I asked. “Do they have any sway there?”

“Some,” she said. “But the Freeholds don’t trust outsiders. If we want their help, we’ll have to earn it.”

By midday, we reached a narrow ravine cutting through the plains, its rocky walls steep and jagged. The wind howled through the crevices, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth.

“This way,” Jessa said, leading us down a precarious path into the ravine.

“Why the detour?” Farron asked, his voice echoing off the walls.

“Because the open plains are too exposed,” Orin said, his tone clipped. “And Ecclesion patrols favor the high ground.”

“I liked it better when we could see the sky,” Farron muttered, though he followed without complaint.

The ravine was narrow, forcing us into single file as we navigated its twists and turns. The shadows grew deeper as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the rocky walls towering over us like jagged teeth.

It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon the remnants of a camp tucked into a small alcove. The fire pit was cold, and the ground was littered with footprints and discarded scraps of cloth.

Jessa crouched, her eyes narrowing as she examined the area.

“Whoever was here left in a hurry,” she said.

“Or they were taken,” Orin added, his hand resting on his knife.

Farron stepped closer, nudging a charred piece of wood with his boot. “Doesn’t look like they put up much of a fight.”

“Stay alert,” Jessa said, standing. “We’re not alone out here.”

The tension grew as we pressed deeper into the ravine. The wind carried faint, indistinct sounds—whispers, or perhaps just the howling of the wind.

My hand stayed on my dagger, my heart pounding with every step.

Then we heard it: the unmistakable clink of metal on stone.

“Ecclesion?” I whispered.

“Could be,” Jessa said, her voice barely audible.

We crouched low, pressing ourselves against the rocky walls as the sound grew louder. A shadow moved at the edge of the path, and my breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t a soldier.

The figure was tall and gaunt, its limbs unnaturally long and its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Its movements were jerky, almost insect-like, as it scuttled along the edge of the ravine.

“What the hell is that?” Farron whispered, his voice shaking.

“Not Ecclesion,” Jessa said grimly.

The creature froze, its head snapping toward us with an unnatural speed. For a moment, the ravine was silent.

Then it screamed.

The sound was piercing, echoing off the walls and sending a chill down my spine. The creature lunged, its limbs moving faster than I could process.

Jessa was the first to react, her dagger flashing as she stepped in front of me. The blade sank into the creature’s side, but it barely flinched, its glowing eyes fixed on her.

“Move!” she shouted, shoving me back.

Orin was already in motion, his knife slashing across the creature’s arm as Farron loosed an arrow that buried itself in its chest.

It staggered, but its shriek was deafening, the sound reverberating through the ravine.

More shadows appeared at the edges of the path, their glowing eyes multiplying as the wind carried their inhuman cries.

“Run!” Jessa shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

We didn’t hesitate.

The ravine became a blur of shadows and jagged rock as we sprinted, the creatures’ screams echoing behind us.

My lungs burned, my legs threatening to give out, but I didn’t stop. The path twisted and turned, the walls closing in as the cries grew louder.

Finally, we burst into the open, the ravine spilling out into the plains.

The creatures didn’t follow. Their screams faded into the wind, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing and the cold, biting air.

“What... the hell... were those?” Farron gasped, doubling over.

“Ravagers,” Jessa said, her voice tight. “Corrupted remnants of something ancient. They’re rare, but dangerous.”

“And they’re out here?” I asked, still catching my breath.

“They’re everywhere,” she said grimly. “Another reminder that Ecclesion isn’t the only threat we’re facing.”

The mountains loomed closer now, their peaks sharp against the fading light of the sky.

We had escaped, but the danger wasn’t over.

If anything, it was just beginning.