Chapter Sixty-one— The Ruins of Dominion
The wind howled like a grieving spirit across the shattered continent, a land once brimming with life and order—now just bones and echoes. Kael stood on a cliffside, the remains of a tower beside him, crumbling like ash in the morning light. Behind him, Lira stepped carefully over fractured stone, her cloak whipping in the wind, eyes wide at the sheer destruction laid before them.
"This is where The Endblade walked," Kael said, his voice heavy. "This… is what's left."
Nothing but desolation. Forests burned to nothing. Cities vaporized. Rivers rerouted by raw power. There were no skeletons, no graves, no memorials. Just a dead silence broken only by the breath of the wind, and perhaps, the echoes of shadowy laughter once carried on it.
Lira stopped beside him, clutching her staff close. "It's hard to believe that all of this was done by one person."
Kael didn't answer. His blue eyes scanned the horizon, but it was like looking into a void. His hand rested on the hilt of his white sword, the glow of light aura pulsing subtly—like a heartbeat sensing danger.
"Do you still think he's out there?" Lira asked quietly.
Kael hesitated. "No… but I feel like he's still watching."
She looked at him sharply. "Kael, you stabbed him yourself."
"I know what I did." His tone hardened. "But Andrew was never just human… not after what he became. We saw the cities fall, we saw him turn people into shadows with a flick of his hand, we saw armies vanish in seconds. Something like that doesn't just… disappear."
Lira sighed. "The world's healing. People are rebuilding. Celebrating. But you—"
"I can't celebrate yet," Kael snapped. "Not until I know for sure."
They descended the ruins of what had once been the capital city of the Dominion continent. A place of kings and scholars. All erased. Here and there, they found cracked murals of the old world, scrawled with new markings—symbols left behind by the Endblade. A sword slashed through a crown. A throne turned to black vines.
As night began to fall, they camped at the remains of an old shrine. Kael lit a small fire, more for comfort than warmth. Lira sat close, pulling her cloak tighter around her.
"I still remember the first time we met him," she said softly. "He wasn't like this."
"No," Kael murmured. "He was… curious. Kind, even. But power changes people."
Lira stared into the fire. "Or maybe it just shows who they really are."
Kael didn't respond. His eyes were locked on the shadows dancing along the broken walls.
After a long silence, Lira finally spoke again, her voice even quieter than before.
"You know what the scary part is?"
Kael looked at her.
Lira turned her gaze to the sky. "Even after everything he did… even after what he became… part of me still misses him."
Kael didn't look away from the fire. "So do I."
The flames crackled between them. In the distance, a whisper of wind passed through the hollow ruins. It sounded like laughter. Or maybe just memory.
Ashren was at peace—for now. But peace born from silence was always temporary. The land had scars. So did its people.
And somewhere, far beyond the horizon, in a place untouched by the light…
The Endblade watched.