It was a thick and wet fog that clung to the trees as Kahel and Rein made their way along winding paths outside the village. Kahel kept his gaze toward the horizon, his mind swimming with anticipation. This, after all, was his first real journey from the village since training started, and though Rein seemed relatively calm, Kahel could feel tension in the air.
They were headed toward Embercliff, a place Kahel had heard murmurs of. It was a little town at the foot of the Cindermount, but more importantly, it housed one of the lesser-known Obelisks. Kahel had never seen one, but he could feel the weight of their significance grow as they drew closer.
“You feel it yet?” Rein asked, his eyes scanning the path ahead.
Kahel furrowed his brow. “Feel what?”
“The energy,” Rein said, voice soft. “The further we get from the village, the more you’ll notice it. The world’s different out here—older, more connected.”
Kahel nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure at what Rein was getting at. There was something in the air, something that had grown a little stronger since they’d left, but he couldn’t quite put words to it. Like the hum of Viera, a soft pulse beneath his skin, one that ebbed and flowed with every step.
As they walked, Rein spoke to him of Embercliff. It was a city caught between worlds, he said—between those who followed the balance of Viera and those who would seek to harness the raw power of Keryth. Men and women there lived in the shadow of the Cindermount—a long-dormant volcano once held in great reverence by those who worshipped the Obelisks.
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“What happened to the people who worshipped them?” Kahel asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“They still exist,” Rein said. “Just not in quite the same way. The Guardians who once protected the Obelisks were once respected—coveted, even. Now, most have vanished. Some… have fallen.”
Kahel frowned. “Fallen how?”
“Corruption,” Rein replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Keryth has a way of seducing those with power. It promises strength—more than Viera can offer—and for some, that is enough to betray their duty.”
The conversation cascaded within Kahel’s mind as they continued onward. He had studied his Viera for many years, and with the time that had passed, he had learned to be more attuned; though there was so much that had remained unanswered. Why was Elion’s ability passed onto him? Why did it resemble something at the bottom, waiting?
The air blazed hotter with each step nearer to Embercliff; the trees thinned to jagged cliffs and rocky grounds. A haze of smoke curled against the sky from the mountain beyond, and the faint outline of a town crested above the horizon, tucked against the base.
The travelers had emerged from the opposite direction, covered in the dust of the road. Kahel eyed them briefly as they went by: rough, weathered faces, and all manner of weapons carried. Rein caught his look. “Mercenaries. They work for the House of Galrain—a family of Keryth users, they control much of the region. Stay clear of them. They’ll try to recruit anyone they think can handle a sword.”
Kahel’s grip on his hilt began to tighten. Something of Keryth-users made his skin crawl. He had never seen one, though the stories had been enough to make him apprehensive.
By noon, they drew in sight of Embercliff. It was a town of stone and wood, its narrow streets winding up the mountain’s slopes. There were people about, tending to their daily work, but an air of disquiet hung over them. Kahel saw it in their faces—the sideward wary glances, the way they hurried along the streets.
“We’ll spend the night here,” Rein uttered, pushing Kahel toward a nondescript inn off the town square. “Tomorrow, the Obelisk.” Kahel nodded, his mind already racing onward. He couldn’t wait to see the Obelisk—to feel that power Rein spoke of. But as they settled into their room, Kahel couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was waiting for them in Embercliff—something more than an ancient monument.