CHAPTER 29: ECHOES IN THE RUBBLE
Kael’s lungs burned with every breath as he staggered away from the collapsing temple. Each footstep left a swirl of dust in his wake, and the night air felt strangely alive—charged with the residue of sorcery and unleashed power. The Mark on his arm pulsed in time with his racing heartbeat, as though trying to claim each beat for itself.
He cast one last glance over his shoulder. Smoke and debris billowed skyward, the once-proud temple reduced to a heap of broken stone and drifting ash. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the ruins for a single heartbeat. In that stark moment, Kael thought he saw two silhouettes amid the crumbling arches—one tall and imposing, the other lithe and sharp-angled. The Sovereign’s Chosen. Still alive. Still watching.
A chill threaded down his spine.
“Keep moving,” came a tense voice from his right.
The hooded woman had already pulled ahead, her cloak torn in places, dust clinging to the fabric. She spared Kael the briefest of glances but said nothing more. Ahead of them, the land stretched into a maze of jagged rock formations and ruins left from an even older civilization—relics the Imperium had never bothered to restore. The nameless man trailed behind, his footfalls unnervingly quiet despite the uneven terrain.
Kael forced himself to match the woman’s pace. Rivulets of sweat traced down his temples, and his vision occasionally blurred from the pain that flared in his ribs. During the frantic escape, he had collected more than a few cuts and bruises—none fatal, but each demanding a toll he couldn’t afford to pay.
They pressed on until the roar of collapsing masonry faded into distant thunder. Only then did the trio slow, stumbling into a half-sunken courtyard where toppled statues and shattered columns hinted at a vanished era. Thick vines and creepers had reclaimed much of the space, twisting around crumbled stone as if nature had decided to hide the sins of the past. Moonlight slipped through ragged clouds, providing just enough light for them to see each other’s drawn faces.
Kael bent double, hands braced against his knees. The metallic tang of blood lingered in the back of his throat. He dared not check how badly his side was bleeding, for fear of what he might find. Instead, he lifted his gaze to the hooded woman, who was already surveying the courtyard’s perimeter.
“Are we stopping here?” he managed between ragged breaths.
She shook her head. “We can’t stay long. The Imperium will scour these ruins by dawn.”
The nameless man drifted closer, his face still shadowed beneath the brim of his cowl. In the filtered moonlight, Kael noticed a slash across the man’s forearm, the fabric dark with blood. Yet the nameless man carried himself with that same eerie calm, as though even an open wound were a trivial inconvenience.
“That was... an impressive stand,” the nameless man offered, voice subdued.
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A bark of grim laughter escaped Kael’s lips. “We barely survived.” His hand hovered over the Mark, which still pulsed with a lingering heat. “And it took more out of me than I’d like to admit.”
The hooded woman turned, regarding Kael with an intensity that bordered on scrutiny. “You used it again, didn’t you?”
There was no point lying. “I had no choice,” Kael answered quietly. “They would have killed me otherwise.”
Her gaze flicked to the bloodstains on his side, the exhaustion etched on his face. She exhaled, and even in the darkness, he could sense her disapproval and concern warring behind her eyes. “Every time you call on the Mark like that, it digs deeper. It won’t let go easily.”
“I know,” Kael said, swallowing the lump in his throat. For a moment, the memory of the temple’s final moments loomed in his mind: the unstoppable force he had unleashed, the lines of shadows and steel that had nearly ended his life. I know the price, but what’s the alternative?
The hooded woman pressed her hand to a chunk of broken statue, as if testing its stability. “We don’t have the luxury of second-guessing our methods right now. Those Chosen will come for us again, and next time, they won’t underestimate you.” Her tone tightened. “Or that power you’re holding.”
Kael winced at the reminder that he was the reason they were all in mortal danger. Before his betrayal, he had been an Inquisitor—a loyal soldier of the Imperium, sworn to uphold its laws and punish heresy. Now, he found himself hunted by an empire that tolerated no loose ends. Or loose threats.
The nameless man moved closer, his posture stiff. “We can’t linger. This place is too exposed, and you need rest—proper rest.” His eyes flicked over Kael’s injuries. “And you, too,” he added, glancing down at his own bleeding arm as if only now recalling it. “If we push too hard in this state, we’ll be easy prey.”
The hooded woman nodded, though her features remained tense. “There’s another set of ruins a short distance from here. Less obvious than this courtyard. We’ll make camp there, treat our wounds, and figure out our next move.”
Kael straightened with a wince, ignoring the protest in his ribs. “And the Sovereign’s Chosen?”
A grim silence passed between them. Finally, the woman answered, “They’ll be hunting us, yes. But they’ll also be dealing with the temple’s collapse and possibly burying their own losses. We have a window of time—short, but enough to regroup.”
Kael let his gaze drift to the distant horizon. The Mark pulsed again, heavier this time, reminding him that it was more than a mere weapon; it was a presence, always listening, always urging him to tear down the barriers restraining it. He banished the thought and forced his legs into motion.
They left the courtyard with weary steps, forging a path through the rubble and tangled weeds. Each stride came with the weight of unspoken questions: How far must we run? How many battles remain before the Imperium corners us again? Will we ever stop fighting?
As they trailed deeper into a network of overgrown passageways, the hooded woman murmured, “We’re close. Let’s hope it’s as sheltered as I remember.”
Kael gritted his teeth, nodding. At least in the quiet of a hidden sanctuary, he could try to patch himself together—and maybe wrestle a measure of control back from the Mark. He refused to let the Imperium, or the Mark, dictate every facet of his life. But I have to survive first.
His mind lingered on the temple’s collapse and the silhouettes he had glimpsed in the wreckage. I wasn’t strong enough to finish them. The thought gnawed at him. Their next encounter might not end with an escape.
As he passed a toppled arch, Kael caught the nameless man’s eye. A silent understanding passed between them: This is far from over. They would need every advantage and every ounce of resolve to stand against the Imperium’s relentless will.
The Mark throbbed in agreement, as if echoing that vow of resistance in a language older than any empire.