The wind howled through the twisted forest, its mournful wail carrying the weight of a broken world. Kael and Siris pressed onward, weaving between the gnarled trunks and tangled roots that seemed to claw at their feet. The path ahead was faint, overgrown with thorns and warped by the chaotic energy left in the wake of the Crystal’s destruction.

Kael glanced at Siris, her face grim and her steps steady. Despite the growing tension between them, she remained focused, her eyes scanning the forest for signs of danger. Kael’s hands were clenched tightly around his pack, the weight of his tools reassuring against his back. He had spent the last two days salvaging scraps from ruins and abandoned campsites, determined to craft something new—something worthy of the fight ahead.

They broke through the trees into a clearing just as the sun began to set, its blood-red light casting long shadows across the land. In the center of the clearing stood an ancient forge, half-buried in moss and vines. The sight of it stopped Kael in his tracks.

“This… this is perfect,” he murmured, dropping his pack to the ground.

Siris turned to him, her brow furrowing. “We don’t have time for this, Kael. The Weaver’s influence grows stronger every day. We need to keep moving.”

Kael shook his head, already pulling tools from his bag. “I can’t face the Weaver with what I have now. My old blade isn’t enough. If I’m going to fight—if I’m going to win—I need something more.”

She hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the darkening sky. “Fine. But make it quick. We can’t afford to stay here long.”

Kael nodded, his determination overriding the tension between them. He set to work, clearing the forge of debris and reigniting its long-dead flames. The fire sprang to life with an unnatural intensity, almost as if it recognized him. Kael felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside, focusing on his task.

From his pack, he drew shards of steel, salvaged from the ruins of Greystone and the battlefield where they had encountered the temporal beast. The metal was damaged, warped by time, but it held a resilience that called to him. He placed the shards into the forge, watching as the flames licked at them, softening the steel.

Hours passed as Kael worked tirelessly, hammering the steel into shape. His hands moved with precision, guided by instinct and an almost otherworldly focus. Siris kept watch, her blade drawn, her gaze scanning the perimeter for threats.

Finally, as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Kael stepped back from the forge, sweat dripping from his brow. In his hands were twin blades, their surfaces gleaming with a faint, otherworldly glow. The edges were razor-sharp, and runes etched into the steel seemed to pulse faintly with energy.

“They’re… incredible,” Siris admitted, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration.

Kael tested the weight of the blades, spinning them in his hands. They felt perfect, an extension of his will. He turned to Siris, his eyes blazing with determination. “Now, I’m ready.”

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They continued their journey, the forest growing stranger with each step. The air grew thick with an unnatural chill, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to shift, as though the very land was rejecting their presence.

As they climbed higher, the trees thinned, giving way to a rocky plateau. The horizon stretched before them, and Kael’s breath caught in his throat. There, in the distance, the Weaver’s castle began to materialize.

It wasn’t there one moment, and then it was—a shadowy behemoth rising from the earth. The castle’s twisted spires clawed at the sky, and its walls shimmered with a dark, malevolent energy. Kael felt a deep pull in his chest, a connection he couldn’t explain.

“That’s it,” Siris said, her voice a whisper.

Kael gripped the hilts of his new blades, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “We’re close. Too close to turn back now.”

They stepped onto the plateau, the castle looming larger with each passing moment. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, and the air grew colder. A low hum filled the air, a sound that seemed to vibrate in their very bones.

And then, the Weaver appeared.

A rift opened in the air before them, swirling with darkness and temporal energy. From it stepped a figure cloaked in shadow, their presence commanding and suffocating. The Weaver’s eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel light as they surveyed Kael and Siris.

“Well, well,” the Weaver said, their voice a smooth, mocking melody. “The little blacksmith and his knight. How quaint.”

Kael’s grip on his blades tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. “You’re the one who shattered the Crystal. You’re the reason this world is falling apart.”

The Weaver chuckled, the sound echoing unnaturally. “Oh, Kael. You give me far too much credit. I didn’t break the world—I merely revealed its fractures. Balance was always an illusion.”

Siris stepped forward, her blade raised. “We won’t let you continue this. Your madness ends here.”

The Weaver tilted their head, amusement flickering in their expression. “Brave words. But you’ve already lost.”

Before Kael could react, the Weaver raised a hand, and a surge of energy shot toward them. Siris moved to intercept, her blade glowing with light as she charged. The clash was blinding, the force of the impact throwing Kael backward.

When the light faded, Kael’s blood ran cold. Siris stood frozen, her blade shattered, her eyes wide with shock. The Weaver’s hand was plunged through her chest, dark energy crackling around the wound.

“Siris!” Kael screamed, scrambling to his feet.

The Weaver withdrew their hand, letting Siris collapse to the ground. She gasped for breath, her blood pooling beneath her.

Kael rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he cradled her. “No, no, no. You’re going to be fine. I’ll—”

Siris’s hand gripped his wrist weakly, her eyes locking onto his. “Kael… don’t let it… consume you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then she was gone.

Kael stared at her lifeless form, his mind reeling. The world around him seemed to blur, his vision narrowing until all he could see was her blood staining his hands.

The Weaver’s laughter broke through the haze. “A fitting end for a would-be hero. And a lesson for you, Kael. Power always comes at a price.”

Kael’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with rage and despair. “You’ll pay for this!” he roared, his firepower flaring to life.

The Weaver smirked. “Oh, Kael. You’re already paying. But don’t worry. This is only the beginning.”

With that, they vanished, leaving Kael alone on the plateau with Siris’s lifeless body.

Kael’s flames sputtered out as he collapsed beside her, his screams echoing across the cliffside. Despair and anger warred within him, and for the first time, he felt the darkness inside him take root.

The Weaver was right. This was only the beginning. And Kael would make sure the world burned for what had been taken from him.