The morning mist curled over Black Hollow like a veil, muffling the sound of hammers and voices as the villagers reinforced the warding runes along the walls.Dain crouched beside the eastern gate, his fingers tracing the faded carvings in the stone. The runes pulsed weakly under his touch, their light dimmer than it should have been."They’re fading," he muttered, pressing his palm against the cold stone.Serra knelt beside him, her sword sheathed but her eyes sharp. "The magic is old," she said. "It won’t hold forever."Dain exhaled, standing up. "Then we strengthen them.""With what?" Serra asked, her voice low. "The Foundation Hammer is spent. The crystal chisel is cracked."Dain clenched his fists, the Blade of Severing pulsing faintly at his side. "We find a way."By midday, the villagers had gathered in the square, their faces drawn with worry. Mira stepped forward, her hands clutching a bundle of dried herbs."The wardings are failing," she said, her voice steady but urgent. "

The Champion's presence crushed the air from Dain's lungs. Its armor absorbed the light, leaving only a void where its form should have been, and the heat from its blade warped the stone beneath its feet. The villagers faltered, their weapons trembling in grips gone slick with sweat and blood."Fall back!" Serra's voice cut through the chaos, her sword burning brighter as she positioned herself between Dain and the Champion. The blue flame cast sharp, flickering shadows across her face, her jaw set in defiance.Dain didn't retreat. He stepped forward, the Blade of Severing humming with a sound like distant thunder. The runes along its edge pulsed erratically, responding to the Champion's power. "You won't take this village."The Champion tilted its head, as if amused. "This village is already lost." Its voice was smooth, cold, like ice over stone. "But you... you are interesting."Dain tightened his grip on the Blade of Severing. "I've heard that before."With a movement faster than t

The black sand shifted beneath Dain’s boots as he circled the Champion, the Blade of Severing humming in his grip. The arena was a void, no walls, no roof, only an endless expanse of darkness pressing in from all sides, the air thick with the scent of burnt metal and old blood. The Forgotten King watched from the shadows, his presence a weight against Dain’s skin, a reminder of what was at stake.The Champion moved first.It lunged, its blade a streak of obsidian cutting through the gloom. Dain parried, the Blade of Severing meeting the strike with a shower of sparks. The impact sent a jolt up his arm, but he held his ground, his eyes locked on the Champion’s mask."You fight well," the Champion said, its voice hollow, echoing as if spoken by many. "But you fight for the wrong side."Dain didn’t answer. He attacked, driving the Blade of Severing forward in a flurry of strikes. The Champion blocked each one, its movements precise, effortless, as if it had fought this battle a thousand

The morning sun rose over Black Hollow, but its light felt cold, distant, as if the village existed in a world slightly out of time.Dain stood at the edge of the training grounds, his shadow stretching long across the trampled earth. The black veins on his arm had thickened overnight, creeping up his shoulder like roots seeking water. He flexed his fingers, watching as the darkness pulsed beneath his skin.A rustle of cloth announced Mira’s approach. She carried a wooden tray, a steaming cup of herbal brew resting beside a loaf of fresh bread. The scent of thyme and honey cut through the morning chill."You didn’t sleep," she observed, setting the tray on a nearby stump.Dain didn’t look at her. "I couldn’t."Mira exhaled, kneeling beside him. She reached for his arm, her fingers hovering over the black veins. "It’s spreading.""I know.""The mixture isn’t working."Dain clenched his jaw. "Then we find something else."Mira met his gaze, her eyes dark with worry. "There isn’t anythin

The stone burned cold in Dain’s palm, its dark energy seeping into his veins like poison, slow, insidious, but necessary. He stood at the village’s edge, watching the horizon bleed into twilight, the sky streaked with crimson and ash. The black veins had receded, but the cost was written in the tremor of his hands, the weight in his chest.A rustle of leaves announced Serra’s approach. She moved silently, her sword sheathed but her eyes sharp, scanning the tree line as if expecting an ambush."You’re hiding something," she said, her voice low.Dain didn’t turn. "Not hiding. Preparing.""With that stone?" She nodded toward his closed fist. "It’s not just a remedy, Dain. It’s a piece of the King’s power. I can feel it."He exhaled, opening his hand. The stone pulsed with a faint, sickly light, like rotting embers. "It buys us time.""At what price?""The usual one." His voice was raw. "Blood. Mine."Serra studied him, her expression unreadable. "You’re playing his game.""I’m surviving