Chapter Fifty-Eight – Ashes of the Endblade
The wind whispered across the endless plains where once a great continent stood, now reduced to ruin and silence. A sky tinged with the hue of mourning loomed overhead, casting a cold light on what was left of civilization. Charred soil, broken mountains, and oceans tainted with darkness stretched out as far as the eye could see.
They called it the "Wound of the World" now.
Kael stood at the edge of a broken cliff, the earth beneath his feet cracked from the aftermath of a power too great, too foreign, to be contained by mortal hands. Lira stood beside him, silent. Her cloak fluttered behind her as if the land itself was trying to remember what once was.
"The Endblade…" Kael muttered, his voice low, almost afraid to echo across the devastation.
That was the name they had given him.
Not Andrew. Not the ruler of Ashren. Not the boy who once believed in revolution. But The Endblade—the name of the being who almost cleaved the world in two.
His existence had become legend, myth, and fear. His name could no longer be spoken without silence trailing behind it.
Lira gently placed her hand on Kael's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to see this? You've barely healed."
"I need to see it," Kael replied, his eyes scanning the blackened horizon. "I need to know what he did… what we stopped."
Lira didn't argue. They walked together through the ruins—once grand cities now buried beneath obsidian stone, twisted monuments, and silent echoes of screams that no longer had voices. They passed the skeletons of buildings, scorched forests, even melted towers once hailed as wonders of the age.
And beneath it all, Kael could feel it: a resonance. Like something vast and slumbering still breathed in the deep.
"He didn't just destroy it," Lira whispered. "He unmade it."
Kael looked up to the sky—where the clouds formed in unnatural patterns, a scar from when Andrew had released the full power of his dominion. Some called it a curse. Others said it was divine punishment. But Kael knew what it truly was.
Andrew's last message.
A warning.
A legacy.
"He left this place as a monument to what happens when power is used without mercy," Kael said. "And we let him."
Lira's voice trembled, "We couldn't stop him. Not then."
"But now he's gone. For now," Kael replied, uncertain whether he was trying to convince her or himself.
They passed through the hollow remains of a palace—an ancient one, made of stone so dark it drank in the light. At its center, they found something that made them stop in their tracks.
A sword.
Massive. Unmoving. Stuck in the heart of the earth.
It radiated energy that made the hair on Kael's arms rise, and Lira instinctively took a step back. The blade was cracked, its edge bleeding shadow. But even broken, it pulsed with an aura so terrifying, so consuming, that both of them struggled to breathe.
"I've seen this sword before…" Kael murmured. "In a vision. It's his. This was his final weapon."
"The Endblade," Lira whispered.
They didn't dare touch it.
Instead, Kael knelt before it and bowed his head.
"I hated him," he confessed quietly. "I hated what he became. But I understand it now. He didn't lose himself. He just gave in… and there was no one strong enough to pull him back."
Lira kneeled beside him. "You did."
Kael looked at her. "I killed him."
"You saved the world."
"I killed my friend."
The silence that followed weighed heavier than the sky.
As they turned to leave the shattered palace, Lira paused and glanced back at the sword. "What do we do about it?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He stared at the blade one last time, then turned away.
"We leave it," he said. "Let the world remember what happens when one man wields the power of gods. Let it stay buried in the ruin he created."
As they began their journey back, a soft wind blew through the ruins. Somewhere deep beneath the earth, the blade pulsed once.
Waiting.
Remembering.
In the halls of Riven, songs were sung of the war. Of the rise and fall of the great kingdoms. Of the freedom fighters who stood against darkness. But in the quiet corners of the world, people still whispered of The Endblade—the one who almost ended everything… and may one day rise again.
Kael and Lira would carry that burden. Not as warriors of war, but as witnesses of what once was—and what could be again.
Because even now… even in peace… the shadow still loomed over the heart of the world.