Dyea's POV
The sun hadn't even crested the ruined towers of Marellis before we were moving again.
Henry insisted on leaving early.
Arthur whined about not getting breakfast.
Katleyn stole Harold's last ration bar.
And Ismuel was already talking about cursed wind patterns before we even left the valley.
In other words:
Everything was perfectly chaotic.
The path to the Wastes stretched like a scar across the land, cracked stone, dried earth, and the ghost of what used to be a battlefield.
Narren walked ahead. Always a few steps apart.
Katleyn, of course, noticed.
"You ever wonder why he broods so much?" she asked, dramatically biting into a stolen apple.
Arthur snorted. "It's the hair. People with floofy hair always carry trauma."
"I think it's the 'I'm-dark-and-mysterious-don't-talk-to-me' energy," Harold added.
"I think it's the you-all-die-if-I-smile-too-hard kind of vibe," Ismuel muttered. "He's hiding something. I feel it in my spleen."
"I don't think spleens work that way," Henry mumbled.
Katleyn leaned closer to me, eyes gleaming. "Unless... he's brooding because of you, hmm?"
I flushed. "He's not, this isn't, ugh. Stop."
"Protective and broody?" she whispered. "Dyea, babe. You have unlocked the tragic love interest achievement."
We passed a broken obelisk, half buried in ash.
That's when Narren stopped.
I nearly bumped into him.
He stood still, eyes locked ahead.
I followed his gaze.
The Wastes of Arveil.
A desolate field of blackened stone and scorched trees stretched across the horizon, like a battlefield frozen in time. No birds. No breeze. Just silence.
Katleyn's teasing died in her throat.
Even Ismuel shut up.
Narren finally spoke.
"This is where it ended."
I looked at him.
His voice had no edge. Just weight.
"Where everything broke."
We all went quiet.
No one dared joke. Not even Arthur.
Ismuel stepped forward slowly, eyes wide. "I... didn't think it would feel like this."
Henry crossed his arms. "It's not just the silence. It's like... something's still watching."
Harold nodded tightly. "Like this land remembers us."
Katleyn, who never shut up for more than ten seconds, was dead silent.
Then softly, she said, "This is where Trixie died, right?"
Narren didn't answer.
But he didn't need to.
I moved closer to him, close enough to see the way his fists clenched, the way his jaw tightened.
"Narren," I whispered. "You don't have to-"
"I do." His voice was firm, but quiet. "We all do."
He started walking.
And we followed.
The Wastes stretched endlessly. The wind picked up, dry, cold, and sharp with the scent of old magic.
Every step forward felt heavier.
Like the ground was trying to remember us.
Like it knew we didn't belong here anymore.
I felt something in my chest, tight and low, like a string being pulled.
Far ahead, the remains of a tower rose crooked from the ground. Cracked. Burned. Familiar.
My heart skipped.
I've seen that before...
But when?
"Guys," Arthur said suddenly, voice strained. "Are you seeing... that?"
He pointed at the tower.
At first, I didn't see anything.
Then, movement.
A flicker.
A silhouette, just for a second, at the top of the tower, cloaked in shadow.
Then it was gone.
Henry drew his sword. "We're not alone."
Narren stepped forward, already pulling his blade from its sheath. "Stay close. Don't speak unless I say so."
"Who do you think it was?" Harold whispered.
"I don't know," I said, not taking my eyes off the tower.
But I couldn't shake the cold in my spine.
I had seen that silhouette before.
In the dream.
Watching the light.
Watching me.
We made it to the base of the tower.
Up close, it was worse.
Blackened stone. Symbols etched in a language half-forgotten. The scent of old fire and broken wards.
"Should we go in?" Henry asked, sword ready.
"Do we ever not go into creepy towers?" Katleyn muttered.
Ismuel mumbled something about cursed architecture, but followed.
Narren led us inside, his footsteps certain. Like he'd been here before.
Like something was calling him.
Inside, the temperature dropped.
There was no dust. No cobwebs.
Like the tower had been waiting.
As we stepped into the central chamber, I felt it again-
A hum.
Deep in my bones.
Like the walls were breathing.
"Dyea..."
I froze.
That voice again.
But this time... it wasn't in my head.
Everyone else had stopped too.
Henry's hand tightened on his sword. "Did... did you all hear that?"
Before anyone could answer-
The ground split.
A pulse of magic surged through the floor, glowing cracks racing out from the center. Runes lit up under our feet.
"MOVE!" Narren shouted.
But we were too late.
The floor beneath us shattered.
I fell-
Not far, but hard.
Into a separate chamber. I hit the stone, rolled, gasped-
"NARREN? KATLEYN?"
I was alone.
My ears rang.
Something shimmered in the center of the room: a pedestal with a cracked mirror, glowing faint gold.
And in its reflection-
I wasn't me.
I was... her.
The woman of light.
Hair like stars. Eyes like dawn. A sword glowing on my back.
I reached out, trembling.
The mirror shattered-
And a shadow stepped through the shards.
Cloaked. Eyes green as wildfire.
"So the Fifth returns..."
Narren's POV
"Dyea!" I shouted, slamming against the fallen rubble. "DYEA!"
"She's gone," Henry growled. "The tower did something, there's magic in the walls."
"We're not alone," Harold added, sword shaking in his grip.
Narren didn't move.
He stared at the ground where she had disappeared, heart pounding.
He knew this place.
He knew what it meant.
And he knew who that shadow was.
He clenched his fists.
"No... not yet."
The rubble hadn't stopped shaking.
"Dyea!" I shouted again, clawing at the debris. No answer. Just a soft golden glow pulsing from the cracks.
"She's alive," Katleyn said, breathless. "I can feel it. It's like, her energy is in the air."
"Yeah," Ismuel added, glancing around nervously, "and so is something else. Something cold."
The wind shifted.
And then... the walls began to speak.
"She's slipping, isn't she? Just like last time..."
I froze.
No one else reacted.
"You couldn't protect her before."
"You won't this time either."
A voice. Smooth. Old. Inside me.
"But you could.
You just have to let go... of everything that holds you back."
My hands started to burn.
A blue glow seeped through the cracks of my skin. Power I hadn't touched in years. Not since-
No.
Not now.
I gritted my teeth and shoved the whisper away.
But it laughed.
Low.
Like it knew I'd break soon.
Meanwhile - Dyea's POV
I stood frozen.
The shadow stepped closer. Cloaked in smoke.
Eyes burning like emeralds licked by fire.
"So the Fifth returns..."
My legs refused to move.
"Who are you?" I asked, voice low, trembling.
It didn't answer.
Instead, it knelt.
One knee to the ground, head bowed.
"Your light was never lost. Just hidden."
"But it's time to choose, Dyea."
"You can be the girl they remember..."
"Or the power you were always meant to be."
I backed away. "No. I'm not-whatever you think I am-"
"A god, forgotten."
"A weapon, locked away."
"But the cracks are forming now."
"And when they break, even Narren won't stop it."
That name made me flinch.
The shadow raised its head, and suddenly, I felt something under the floor. A second heartbeat.
Narren.
Rage.
And something worse.
Back with the Team
Narren collapsed to one knee, clutching his head.
"Narren?!" Henry rushed to him. "What's wrong?!"
Katleyn reached out, but the moment her hand touched his shoulder, a violent shockwave of energy pulsed outward, throwing her across the stone floor with a cry.
Blue sparks danced around him, twisting into green flame.
Arthur and Ismuel drew their weapons on instinct.
"Narren?! TALK to us!" Arthur shouted.
But when Narren looked up-
His eyes were burning.
Not blue.
Green. Like wildfire.
Unnatural. Violent. Consuming.
And for just a moment...
they flared brighter, like something else was looking through them
"What the hell..." I whispered, lowering my sword slightly.
"Narren?" Henry stepped closer, cautiously. "You in there?"
He didn't answer.
He just stood slowly-too slowly-like every movement wasn't his own.
His hands were still glowing. Flickers of green fire snaked along his arms, dancing in erratic pulses.
Katleyn groaned from the ground. "Okay-ow. Not the softest landing."
But when she looked up and saw his eyes, the smirk vanished from her face.
"Guys," she said carefully, "those aren't Narren's eyes."
Ismuel's jaw tightened. "That's not normal fire magic. That's cursed. That's possession."
Henry glanced at the runes around us, still glowing faintly in the rubble. "This tower isn't just ruins. It's a prison."
"Then what the hell did it just wake up?" Harold muttered, backing up.
Narren looked at us-no, through us.
And then-
"She's awakening," he said. But the voice... it was layered.
His voice, and another, deeper one. Echoing. Cold.
"The Fifth stirs. The flame must be broken before it spreads."
He stepped forward, and the air shifted. Warped.
Katleyn drew her blade. "Okay, I don't care if he's hot. That's not our Narren."
Ismuel raised his bow. "If he takes another step, I'm shooting."
But then-
He stopped.
Narren clutched his head again, fire flickering wildly, and fell to one knee, gasping.
The green in his eyes vanished.
Just blue now.
Frantic. Terrified. Human.
"I-I didn't mean-" he choked out. "I didn't... I didn't mean to speak..."
Arthur lowered his weapon, heart racing.
What was that?
And why did it feel like that wasn't the last time we'd see it?
Dyea's POV
I collapsed to my knees.
The mirror's glow had faded.
The shadow was gone.
But the words still echoed.
"Even Narren won't stop it."
I didn't know what scared me more.
That something else was watching me...
Or that, somehow, he already wasn't the same Narren anymore.