The morning sun cast a dull gold hue over the Vale of Winds, its light dimmed by clouds that had gathered overnight. Isha crouched at the edge of a rocky ledge, scanning the jagged landscape below. A chill wind swept over the terrain, tugging at her cloak, but she didn't shiver. Her gaze was locked on the distant ruins of Mirhaal—an ancient settlement swallowed by the earth after the Great Tearing.
Behind her, Abhi adjusted the leather bindings on his arms, checking the tension in his fingers. The ring on his finger shimmered faintly, whispering of the shard buried deep in the ruins.
"It's close," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Isha turned her head slightly. "Another dream?"
"More like… a pull," Abhi replied. "It's clearer now. Ever since the second shard."
They had claimed two shards already—one from the ash-temple in the west and another hidden beneath the frozen lake of Thalor. Each shard they bonded with added not just power but connection—a tether to something larger, ancient, and still waking.
But they weren't alone in this race.
Far across distant lands, the Second Bearer—Sakhtiel—was also hunting. The ring had shown glimpses of it in Abhi's dreams. Flames rising in shadowed forests. Craters forming in ancient plains. Violet light carving its way into the earth.
While Isha and Abhi followed their trail in the east, Sakhtiel claimed shards of his own in the west, his method far more destructive. No Watcher had dared confront him since his awakening. The world, unknowingly, teetered toward fracture.
---
The ruins of Mirhaal were unlike anything Abhi had expected. Half-buried in sand, swallowed by time and wind, they rose like jagged teeth from the earth. Stone arches, cracked and eroded, jutted out at odd angles. Faint sigils carved into the rock pulsed in the same frequency as the ring—ancient guardians of something long buried.
"This place is old," Isha whispered. "Older than Naetra's war. Maybe even older than the shards themselves."
They descended slowly, carefully avoiding the loose rock and crumbled stairways. Strange sounds echoed around them—whispers, perhaps illusions, conjured by the power still latent in the ruins.
As they reached the heart of the ruin, a wide open plaza revealed itself. At its center was a circular dais with a crystal hovering above it, glowing a deep green. Roots from shattered columns wrapped around the platform like protective tendrils.
Abhi stepped forward, the ring on his hand beginning to hum louder, resonating with the shard.
But then, the earth trembled.
---
Out from the broken ground emerged creatures unlike any they had faced before—Ashborn Sentinels, beings of cracked stone and glowing emerald cores. Constructed long ago to guard the sacred relics, they awakened now, sensing Abhi's presence.
Isha readied her bow and drew an arrow crackling with flame. "I'll distract them," she said. "You get the shard."
Abhi nodded and ran for the dais as Isha's first arrow struck one of the Sentinels in the chest, detonating in a burst of heat and smoke.
The Sentinels, however, did not go down easily. One lumbered toward Abhi, its arm morphing into a jagged blade. Abhi's instincts kicked in—he ducked, rolled beneath it, and fired a concentrated beam of light from his eyes. The blast scorched the stone, cracking the creature's body, but not stopping it.
Two more approached from the sides. Abhi was cornered.
Then came Isha's roar—she leapt between them, hurling a ball of fire that exploded in a blinding flash. The creatures staggered.
"Now, Abhi!"
Abhi leapt onto the dais, reaching out. The shard shimmered brighter, then surged toward him, merging with the ring. A wave of green energy burst outward. The Sentinels froze. Cracks formed across their bodies, and they crumbled into lifeless dust.
Silence returned.
---
That night, they camped in the high cliffs of the Mirhaal pass, watching the stars from the shadows of the peaks. The third shard had changed the ring again. It now shimmered with interwoven light—blue, green, and silver.
"Three," Isha whispered, poking the fire with a stick. "Three out of seven."
Abhi stared into the flames. "We're getting closer. But so is he."
Isha nodded grimly. "The ring connects you both. You're each drawn to the shards like opposing forces."
"I know," Abhi said, voice distant. "Every time I take one, I feel him. Not his location… but his intent. Like thunder before a storm."
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And he's not slowing down."
---
Far away, in a land scorched by drought and chaos, Sakhtiel stood atop a broken cliff, violet lightning crackling from his fingertips. Before him, a shard floated—red and fierce, pulsing with rage. Around him, Watchers' bodies lay broken, smoke rising from their armor.
He reached forward and let the shard bind to his own ring.
A cruel grin curled his lips.
"They think they're winning," he whispered. "But they're only building the pyre I'll light."