Varkos, his dark form looming in the clearing, the shadows curling around him like obedient pets. Rhylen stands between them, his sword raised, ready to strike, but Elorin knows it won't be enough. Not against Varkos.

The relic in her hand pulses violently, a sharp reminder of the power it holds—and the danger it invites. Varkos wants it. And if he gets it, everything will be lost.

"You think you can keep it from me?" Varkos says, his voice smooth but filled with menace. "That relic was never yours. It was destined to be mine, and you've brought it right to me."

Elorin's breath catches as the ground trembles beneath her, the air growing thick with dark energy. The relic in her hand grows warmer, the symbols etched into its surface glowing brighter as if reacting to Varkos's presence. She doesn't understand how to control it yet, but it's the only thing keeping him at bay.

"We're not here to play your game, Varkos," Rhylen growls, stepping forward with his sword in hand, his eyes never leaving the dark figure. "We won't let you destroy the Aldervale."

Varkos chuckles, a low, cold sound that sends a chill down Elorin's spine. "You're out of your depth, warrior. The invasion is inevitable. The relic is the key, and it will soon be mine."

He raises a hand, and the shadows around him shift and swirl, surging toward them like a tidal wave. Rhylen lunges forward, slashing at the oncoming darkness, but the shadows are relentless, flowing around his blade like water.

"Elorin!" Rhylen shouts, his voice strained as he fights off the approaching shadows. "We need to move! Now!"

Elorin's heart races, her hands trembling around the relic. She can feel its power, the warmth surging through her, but it's chaotic—wild and uncontrollable. The symbols on its surface glow brighter, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

"Stay back!" she yells, holding the relic out in front of her. A wave of golden light bursts from the relic, pushing back the shadows for a moment, giving them space to breathe.

But it's only temporary.

The shadows retreat for a moment, but Varkos remains unfazed. He watches her with a calculating smile, his eyes glowing with that eerie, otherworldly light. "You think you can wield it, don't you? But you have no idea what kind of power you're playing with."

Elorin's pulse quickens. He's right. She has no idea how to control the relic, but she can't afford to hesitate now.

"Rhylen," she says, her voice shaky, "we have to reach the Ironhold. Maybe they'll know how to stop him."

Rhylen glances back at her, his expression tight. "Then let's go. Keep the relic ready—we'll need it."

They move quickly, cutting through the clearing as the shadows close in again, their dark tendrils licking at their heels. Varkos watches them, unmoving, as if he's toying with them, enjoying the chase.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Elorin keeps the relic close, its glow lighting their way as they race toward the looming silhouette of the Ironhold in the distance. The fortress rises before them like a great stone giant, its towers reaching into the sky. The path ahead is steep, and the shadows seem to gather more thickly as they approach, but they have no choice.

The relic pulses harder in her hand, almost vibrating now as if it's trying to communicate something—trying to warn her.

As they near the gates of the Ironhold, Rhylen pauses, turning to face the shadows that have gathered behind them. "They're not going to stop," he says, his voice grim. "We need to make a stand here."

"No," Elorin says, her voice more confident than she feels. "The Ironhold must have something—some knowledge about the relic that we can use to stop Varkos. We need to get inside."

Rhylen glances at the fortress, then back at the approaching shadows. He nods. "Then let's hope they're willing to help."

The massive iron gates stand closed before them, and as they approach, Elorin feels a strange energy emanating from them. The relic pulses in her hand again, more intensely now, almost as if it's responding to the Ironhold itself.

"Rhylen, wait," she says, stepping forward and holding the relic out toward the gate. The symbols glow brighter, casting a golden light on the iron doors.

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembles, and the iron gates creak as they slowly begin to open. Elorin gasps, the relic growing warm in her hand as the gates part, revealing the dark, cavernous interior of the Ironhold.

Rhylen glances at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "How did you—?"

"I didn't," Elorin says, shaking her head. "The relic did."

Without another word, they step through the gates and into the fortress. The interior is cold and dark, the air heavy with ancient magic. Massive stone pillars line the walls, and faint, glowing symbols are etched into the floors and ceilings—symbols that look eerily similar to the ones on the relic.

As they move deeper into the Ironhold, Elorin can feel the relic's energy intensify. It's pulling her forward, leading her through the twisting corridors of the fortress.

"Where are we going?" Rhylen asks, his voice low and tense.

"I don't know," Elorin admits, gripping the relic tightly. "But it's leading us somewhere. I can feel it."

They move quickly, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The shadows outside the fortress are still gathering, but for now, they seem to be held at bay by the Ironhold's ancient magic.

After what feels like an eternity, they reach a massive chamber at the heart of the fortress. In the center of the room stands a pedestal, and atop it rests a stone tablet covered in symbols that match those on the relic.

"This is it," Elorin whispers, stepping forward. The relic in her hand pulses with a blinding light as she approaches the tablet, the symbols glowing in perfect sync with the ones etched into the stone.

"What is this place?" Rhylen asks, glancing around the chamber warily.

"I think it's where the relic was created," Elorin says, her voice trembling with awe. "It's connected to this place."

As she reaches out toward the tablet, the relic flares with light, and suddenly, images flood her mind—images of the past, of ancient battles fought with dark magic, of a time when the Ironhold was a stronghold of powerful relics and warriors who wielded them.

And then she sees it—Varkos. He was there. He was part of it all, and somehow, he's returned.

Her breath catches as the vision fades, leaving her reeling. The relic pulses again, and she knows what she has to do.

"We can stop him," she says, turning to Rhylen. "But I need to unlock the full power of the relic."

"How?" Rhylen asks, his voice tense.

Elorin takes a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the relic. "I don't know yet. But this place—the Ironhold—it holds the answers. And we need to find them fast."