The winds shifted as the group descended from the Spine of Cinders. Behind them, the Temple of Hollow Flame stood silent, its ancient fires now quelled by the second Heartstone's awakening. Before them, the Obsidian Wastes stretched once more into cracked glass plains. But the sky had changed.
Thunder rumbled above. The air grew thick with tension, and low-hanging clouds churned like a sea on the verge of collapse.
"A storm's coming," Liora muttered, scanning the skies.
"Not just weather," Thalin said, his voice low. "I feel magic stirring in the wind. This is unnatural."
Nyara growled, her fur standing on end. Lightning crackled in the distance, splitting the horizon in jagged arcs of violet.
Aelric tightened his grip on Emberlight. The blade pulsed as if in warning.
The March to Stormbreak Hollow
Their destination lay east—a place once known as Stormbreak Hollow, where ancient storms were said to be born and tempered by sky-mages. It was now rumored to be under siege by the void.
Eldra's words echoed in Aelric's mind: The third Heartstone lies where lightning dances with sorrow. Find the Tempest Shrine. Trust the storm.
It took them two days to reach the foothills, navigating fractured terrain and the growing fury of the storm. Trees bent under relentless winds. The ground trembled sporadically, as if quaking in fear of what brewed above.
Villages they passed were empty—either abandoned or reduced to scorched ruins. Tracks in the mud spoke of struggles, of people dragged away or scattered to the wilds.
"They're spreading faster now," Liora said grimly. "Morvath's not waiting. He's accelerating the rift."
Thalin agreed. "When the Heartstones stir, they disrupt his hold. But the closer we get to them, the more violent the response."
Aelric said nothing, but inside him the fire smoldered. Emberlight warmed with each step toward the Hollow. The second Heartstone nestled within the blade had changed him—he could feel its resonance, its whispers of power and clarity.
Stormbreak Hollow
The Hollow came into view on the third morning.
A massive basin surrounded by jagged cliffs, it pulsed with stormlight. Lightning danced perpetually above its center, striking a massive stone spire carved with symbols that glowed faintly blue.
Stormbreak.
Aelric paused on a ridge overlooking the basin. The sight of the spire filled him with awe and dread.
Liora shielded her eyes. "It looks like the storm never ends here."
"That's because it doesn't," said a voice from behind.
They turned to see a woman step from the shadows of a broken archway. She wore a cloak of feathers and silver thread, her eyes glowing with faint static. Her skin shimmered with tattoos shaped like lightning.
"Who are you?" Aelric asked.
"My name is Kaelen. I am Stormbound—last of the Skyward Order."
Thalin blinked. "You survived the Scouring? I thought the Order was lost."
Kaelen stepped closer. "Most of us were. But the storm kept me alive—and kept the Shrine sealed. Until now."
She eyed Emberlight. "You carry two Heartstones already. That explains the disturbance."
Aelric nodded. "We need the third. The world is breaking apart. We have to stop Morvath."
Kaelen looked past them to the Hollow. "Then come. But be warned—the Shrine tests those who seek its heart. And the storm is no friend to fear."
Trial of the Tempest
They followed Kaelen into the Hollow. The winds were deafening. Lightning cracked around them constantly, striking the stone paths Kaelen led them across with perfect timing, barely missing them by seconds.
Nyara leapt from stone to stone, her fur sparking with static. Liora's armor glowed faintly with every lightning flash, while Thalin muttered protective charms under his breath to shield them from the fury.
At the base of the spire stood a great circular gate made of sky-forged metal. Kaelen placed her hand upon it and whispered something in the language of storms. The gate opened with a hiss of wind.
Inside, the shrine was quiet—eerily so. Smooth marble tiles inscribed with old runes lined the floor. Stormlight filtered through cracks in the dome above.
At the center, on a pedestal shaped like a thundercloud, hovered the third Heartstone. It pulsed with electric energy, its core a pale, flickering silver.
Kaelen stepped back. "Only one can approach. The Heartstone will choose, but only after the storm tests them."
Aelric looked to the others. "It has to be me."
He stepped forward.
The Storm Within
As soon as Aelric crossed the rune-circle, the air changed. Wind howled, lightning arced across the ceiling, and a column of light engulfed him.
Suddenly, he was alone.
The shrine was gone. The world was cloud and chaos. He stood on a platform of nothing, surrounded by swirling storm.
From the storm emerged a figure—himself.
But not as he was. This Aelric wore dark armor and burned with voidfire. His eyes were hollow, empty of hope.
"You think power makes you worthy?" the doppelgänger asked. "You will fall like the rest."
They clashed—blade against blade. The false Aelric fought with relentless precision, feeding on Aelric's doubts.
"You'll never be enough. Your friends will die for nothing. The rift cannot be closed."
Aelric staggered back, gasping.
Then he remembered Liora's fierce loyalty. Thalin's quiet strength. Nyara's unyielding presence.
He stood tall. "You're not real. You're fear. And fear doesn't lead me."
With a roar, he struck. The blade of light cleaved through his shadow.
The storm vanished.
The Third Heartstone
Aelric found himself back in the shrine. The others were watching, breath held. The Heartstone floated before him, glowing brighter now.
It drifted to Emberlight's blade and merged with the others.
Lightning raced up the sword's edge, and a new pulse thrummed through Aelric's chest.
Kaelen bowed her head. "The Tempest accepts you. The storm walks with your flame."
Aelric nodded. "Three down. One more to go."
Outside, the skies began to clear. The wind softened. And far to the west, across ocean and mist, the final challenge awaited:
The Twilight Bastion—where dreams and reality blurred, and the last Heartstone waited in silence.
~to be continued