Dust clung to their boots as Abhi and Isha scaled the jagged ridge overlooking the Valley of Echoes. The winds here howled like the cries of the forgotten, and the sky above swirled with gray storm clouds. Somewhere in this cursed land, the final shard waited—silent, powerful, and watching.
Abhi's hand clenched around the ring. Three shards pulsed inside it now—blue, amber, and crimson—each one infusing him with strength, but also pressure. The closer he came to completing the set, the heavier the burden grew.
"We're not alone," Isha murmured, crouching beside a blackened tree. "His presence… it's nearby."
"Sakhtiel?" Abhi asked, scanning the shadows.
She nodded grimly. "He's already claimed three. He's not going to let us get the last one without a fight."
Abhi's jaw tightened. "Then we reach it first."
They descended into the valley, each step echoing like a drumbeat in their ears. The ring vibrated, guiding them. Somewhere beneath the soil, beneath the centuries of war and loss, the last shard slumbered.
But as they walked, Abhi's thoughts drifted. What happens when all the shards are united? The ring never revealed that. Only one vision had ever pierced through—on the night he first wore it: a guardian, trapped in chains of golden light, eyes pleading for release. Who was he? A protector of Naetra… or a prisoner of its past?
And the Hunters—those masked assassins that had stalked them, struck from shadows, and vanished into smoke. Who were they truly serving? The Watchers? Sakhtiel? Or someone else entirely?
"Isha," he said softly, "have you ever wondered what the shards really are? Not just power. But why they exist?"
She looked over at him, eyes narrowed with thought. "I have. And I think they were never meant to be found. They were scattered for a reason—to keep something locked away. Or to keep someone from becoming too powerful."
Abhi stared at the ring. The shard embedded in it seemed to swirl darker than before.
---
Hours passed as they followed the ring's pull deeper into the valley. At last, they reached a ruin—an old monastery carved into the cliffside. Nature had reclaimed much of it, but stone symbols of Naetra still marked its walls.
The ring flared.
"It's here," Abhi said.
Inside, dust covered the altar like a burial shroud. Cracked statues of forgotten deities lined the sides. At the center was a well—a dry, stone pit, ringed with ancient glyphs. The ring glowed furiously.
Isha held her breath. "This must be it."
Abhi stepped forward, knelt at the well's edge, and extended his hand. The ring shimmered—and something stirred below. A pulse. A whisper. A challenge.
The earth shook.
Suddenly, a thunderclap shattered the silence. Behind them, the wall exploded in a burst of violet energy. Rubble scattered.
Sakhtiel stood in the dust, violet eyes blazing, cloak whipping in the wind.
"You're persistent," he said coldly. "But the last shard belongs to me."
Abhi rose to his feet, light sparking behind his pupils. "Then you'll have to take it."
Sakhtiel smirked. "I intend to."
With a roar, he launched forward, but this time Abhi was ready. Light burst from his palms, meeting violet fire in midair. Isha joined the fray, hurling flame-tipped arrows that forced Sakhtiel to dodge.
Their battle tore through the monastery. Stone crumbled, statues shattered. For every blow Sakhtiel dealt, Abhi returned two. His mastery had grown—but so had Sakhtiel's fury.
Then, suddenly—a silence.
The well erupted in blinding light.
All three froze.
From its depths rose the final shard—pale white, glowing with the purity of untouched power. It hovered between them.
Abhi lunged. Sakhtiel struck. Both their hands touched it—at the same time.
The world broke.
---
They stood no longer in the monastery, but in a realm of nothingness. Floating. Breathless.
Before them, the sky shimmered with memory.
A golden prison. A guardian—chained, eyes pleading. Words echoed:
"Seven shards, one prison. When united, the ring will unlock what was lost… and release what must not return."
The vision shifted.
A battlefield. A city burning. A younger Sakhtiel kneeling in ash, holding the lifeless body of a girl.
"Why?" he sobbed. "Why did they burn everything?"
From behind him, cloaked figures—the Watchers—walked away. One turned, face unreadable.
"He's the Second Bearer now. Mark him. Exile him."
Then darkness.
The void trembled, and they were flung back into the world.
---
Abhi gasped, reeling as the final shard disappeared—absorbed into the ring.
All seven were now one.
Sakhtiel collapsed to one knee, stunned. "You… you saw it," he hissed. "You saw what they did to us."
Abhi said nothing. He looked down at the ring—no longer glowing, but pulsing, alive.
Then he understood. It wasn't just power. It was a key.
"We weren't just collecting shards," Abhi whispered. "We were unlocking something."
A presence stirred within the ring.
A voice, ancient and sorrowful: "The Guardian sleeps no more."
Far away, beyond even Sakhtiel's reach, in a ruined citadel long lost to time—a stone coffin cracked open. A figure stirred.
The Guardian had awakened.
---
Back at the monastery, Sakhtiel stood, trembling. "You've doomed us all," he spat.
"No," Isha said, stepping between them. "You doomed us the day you chose revenge over redemption."
Sakhtiel vanished into shadow, leaving only silence behind.
Abhi stared into the broken altar, the weight of the ring pressing on his soul.
"I don't know what comes next," he said.
Isha rested a hand on his shoulder. "Then we find out. Together."
And behind them, on the horizon—the sky turned gold.