Jax's boots sunk deep into the mud with every step, making his journey feel increasingly burdensome. What once had been the outskirts was now a barren landscape, where gnarled trees reached desperately toward a sky filled with bleak gray clouds. Ahead loomed the Northern Wastes, a mere shadow on the horizon. His chest throbbed, and the low hum of the Construct served as a constant reminder of the power—and suffering—inside him. Jane trekked a few paces ahead, her backpack jingling with an array of gadgets, her gaze darting around for any signs of danger.
"Pick up the pace, Jax!" she called over her shoulder, her tone light but her grip on her stun gauntlet firm. "This isn't a leisurely stroll."
"Easy for you to say," Jax muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His nose still smarted from the blood he'd coughed up back in the ruins, and he felt like he was being held together with twine. That golden shield of Divine energy had saved them from the skeleton, but it hadn't come from the Construct. He could still hear the soft, ancient voice of that woman in his mind: "Blood calls to blood."
"Energy reserves: 18%," the Construct's cold voice interrupted his thoughts. "Host must conserve energy for optimal performance."
"Optimal performance," Jax scoffed quietly. "I can barely stay upright."
Jane fell back to keep pace with him. "Talking to your magical buddy again? What's it saying?"
"That I'm a mess," he replied, forcing a smile that quickly faded. "Are you really sure about this, Jane? The Wastes are Necromancer territory—we're walking right into their backyard."
Her jaw tightened, though her stare remained steady. "We don't have any other options. That shrine is our only lead on what's happening to you. And I refuse to let some creepy mage get the upper hand." She nudged him playfully, her smirk reappearing. "Plus, you've got me. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Famous last words," Jax said, but her confidence buoyed him, as it always did. Jane was a beacon of hope in the darkness, and he would follow her anywhere—even into a deadly trap.
They pressed on, the desolate plain stretching infinitely before them. The air grew colder, carrying an unsettling hint of decay. Jax clutched the journal in his pocket, feeling its warmth against his fingers. The notes about the shrine and "blood ties" gnawed at him. His parents had been Elemental Mages, but could they have been linked to the sisters? The thought loomed large in his mind, like a jigsaw puzzle missing crucial pieces.
Suddenly, Jane halted, raising a hand. "Hold up." She crouched down, retrieving a small scanner from her bag, its screen flashing red and beeping softly. "Something's nearby. Not undead. Human."
Jax's heart raced. "Necromancers?"
"Possibly." Jane's voice dropped low, her eyes searching the area. A cluster of broken stones jutted from the ground nearby, offering potential cover. "Get down."
They ducked behind the stones, Jax's pulse quickening. The Construct chimed in with a warning. "Hostile presence detected. Energy reserves: 20%. Recommend caution."
"Thanks for the heads up," Jax whispered, peering over the stones. The plain appeared empty, but a strange stillness hung in the air, as if the world was holding its breath. Jane adjusted her gauntlet, her fingers steady despite the tension etched across her face.
"See anything?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Not yet." Jax's hand hovered near his knife—useless against magic, but it was better than nothing. The Divine shield had felt like a fluke, and he didn't know how to summon it again. Flame Pulse was his only move he could rely on, but it could knock him out as well.
A faint crunch shattered the silence—boots on gravel. Jax's breath caught in his throat. A figure emerged, cloaked in black, moving with determination. Not the scarred Necromancer they had faced before, but there were unmistakable red runes on their gloves. They carried a staff topped with a skull, its eyes glimmering faintly.
Jane tensed as her gauntlet hummed. "One guy. We can take him."
Jax grabbed her arm. "Wait. He's not alone." Two more figures stepped from the shadows, their cloaks melding into the darkness. One wielded a curved blade, while the other sported a chain pulsing with dark energy—Necromancer enforcers, not just scouts.
"Three against two," Jane muttered. "Not great odds."
"Tell me about it." Jax's mind raced. His energy was too low for a confrontation, and charging across open ground would be a death wish. "Got any gadgets up your sleeve?"
With a sly grin, Jane pulled a small sphere from her pack. "Smoke bomb, upgraded. Should buy us some time." She glanced over at him. "Unless your magic has something better."
Jax hesitated. Flame Pulse might scare them off, but it would drain him. The Divine voice had gone silent since the ruins, and he didn't trust the cold pull of Shadow. "Smoke's good. Do it."
Jane nodded, tossing the sphere. It hit the ground with a crack, releasing a thick cloud of gray mist. The Necromancers froze, their runes flaring as they searched the fog. Jane took Jax's hand, urging him toward a ditch. "Move!"
They slid into the shallow trench, mud seeping into their clothes. The Necromancers' voices drifted through the fog, sharp and furious. "Find them! The master wants the boy alive!"
Jax's stomach twisted. The "master" again. Whoever they were, they needed the Construct badly. He pressed himself lower as Jane's breath warmed beside him. "What now?" he whispered.
"We wait," she replied, her gauntlet at the ready. "They'll move on. Hopefully."
But the Necromancers stayed put. The staff-bearer raised their weapon, and a surge of dark energy rippled through the fog, dispersing it. Jax's heart sank—they were exposed, the ditch providing scant cover. The Necromancers locked their gaze onto them, and the blade-wielder's grin widened as he twirled his weapon.
"Thorne," he called, his voice laced with mockery. "Come out, or we'll drag you out."
Jane's gauntlet sparked, but Jax held her back. "Don't. They'll kill you." Though his voice trembled, he stood up, raising his hands in surrender. "You want me? Fine. Leave her alone."
"Jax, no!" Jane hissed, gripping his arm. "We fight together."
The Necromancer with the chain laughed, a cruel sound. "Cute. But we don't need her." He swung the chain, its links glowing black. Jax shoved Jane down just as it whistled past, grazing his shoulder and sending a shock of pain through him.
"Energy reserves: 22%. Flame Pulse available," the Construct chimed in, cool and clinical.
Jax grit his teeth, raising his hand. "Flame Pulse!" A torrent of fire erupted from him, forcing the Necromancers back. The chain-wielder cursed, his cloak singed. But Jax's vision blurred, and his knees buckled. "Energy reserves: 12%."
"Jax, get up!" Jane shouted, firing her gauntlet and sending a blue arc that stunned the blade-wielder. She pulled him up, dragging him toward the stones. The staff-bearer had their skull-tipped weapon raised, and the ground trembled beneath them. Cracks spread, spewing black mist.
"We can't outrun that," Jax gasped, feeling tightness in his chest. The Construct was silent, having no emergency protocol to offer this time. He had pushed it too far.
Jane's eyes darted around until they landed on a gadget from her pack—a small disk blinking with lights. "Last resort," she said, tossing it at the Necromancers. It crashed to the ground, exploding in a flash of sparks and sound, disorienting them.
"Run!" Jane yelled, pulling Jax toward the Wastes. They hurried across the plain, the Necromancers' shouts fading into the background. Jax's legs screamed in protest, his energy dwindling with each step. But Jane's grip on him was firm, her determination anchoring him.
They reached a rocky outcrop, collapsing behind it. Jax's breath came out in sharp gasps, his shoulder throbbing where the chain had struck. Jane activated her scanner, her expression serious. "They're not following. Yet."
Jax leaned back, clutching the journal. "We can't keep this up. They're way too strong."
Jane clenched her jaw. "Then we need to get stronger. You figure out that Construct, and I'll craft something to fry those creeps."
He nodded, doubt still gnawing at him. The Divine voice, the journal's hints—it all felt overwhelming. "Jane, what if this shrine is a trap? What if the Construct is… bad?"
She met his gaze, her voice resolute yet gentle. "Then we face it together. You're not alone, Jax."
Her words steadied him like a light breaking through the darkness. He opened the journal, flipping to the glowing page. A new line had materialized, soft yet clear: "The shrine guards the sisters' truth. Only the marked may enter."
"Marked," Jax murmured. The blood ties again. But what did that signify?
Before Jane could reply, a low hum filled the air—this wasn't the Construct's doing, but something outside. The rocks around them vibrated, and a shadow passed overhead. Jax's heart raced. A massive shape loomed above them—a Necromancer airship, its hull adorned with red runes, its engines roaring ominously.
Jane grasped his arm, urgency in her voice. "Jax, we're out of time."
The ship's hatch opened, and a figure dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. This wasn't the scarred Necromancer from before; it was someone entirely new—a woman with silver hair and eyes that blazed like coals. Her cloak shimmered with dark energy as a cruel smile spread across her face.
"Jax Thorne," she proclaimed, her voice cutting through the wind. "My master sends his regards."