The skiff didn't land; it collided.
The Shadow-Shelf was a jagged horizontal slab of dark obsidian that jutted out from the side of a massive, unnamed mountain-isle. It sat at the very edge of the "Safe-Cloud," where the light of the suns rarely reached, leaving the landscape trapped in a permanent, charcoal twilight.
Kiron jumped from the deck before the skiff had even stopped vibrating. His boots hit the black stone with a dull thud. His legs felt like lead, and his head was still swimming with the copper-scent of the nightmare.
"We stay together," Nyra commanded, hoisting her heavy crossbow onto her shoulder. She looked at Taz, who was shivering despite the humid heat of the shelf. "Taz, keep the engine humming. If things go sideways, don't wait for us. Just drop into the mist."
"I'm not leaving Kiron," Taz whispered, his voice small but firm.
Nyra didn't argue. She pointed toward a series of ruins carved directly into the mountain face—the Oru-Gate. "The man we're looking for is in there. He was an officer in the God-Guard before the Taint took his eyes. He's the only one who knows how to fight without seeing the enemy."
As they moved toward the ruins, the silence of the shelf was broken by a sound that made Kiron's hair stand on end. It wasn't a scream or a roar. It was the sound of something massive breathing—slow, wet, and rhythmic.
From the fog-choked crevices of the mountain, a group of Ghouls emerged. But these weren't like the spindly ones from the Vort-Isle. These were Crawler-Ghouls—distorted, multi-limbed things that moved with a sickening, twitching speed, their pale skin translucent enough to see the dark, oily "Taint" flowing through their veins.
"They've tracked the resonance," Nyra cursed, leveling her crossbow. "Kiron, get behind me!"
Kiron didn't move. He looked at the three Crawlers as they circled them. He felt the cold pressure of the air, the way the monsters' presence seemed to suck the warmth out of his skin.
One of the Crawlers lunged. Its arm, tipped with a jagged bone-blade, whipped toward Kiron's chest.
THWACK.
Nyra's bolt took the creature in the shoulder, knocking it back, but it didn't stop. It hissed, its vertical mouth opening wide to spray a cloud of corrosive black mist.
"Run for the Gate!" Nyra yelled, firing another bolt.
Kiron grabbed Taz's arm and bolted for the obsidian archway. His heart was screaming. He felt that familiar heat in his palms again—that desperate, burning need to strike. But he suppressed it. He remembered Nyra's warning: Leaking power is a beacon.
They reached the heavy stone doors of the Oru-Gate just as the other two Crawlers converged on them. Nyra was out of bolts. She drew her short-blade, her face set in a grim mask of defiance.
"In! Get in!" she shoved the boys through the crack in the doors.
Just as the lead Crawler prepared to leap, a voice boomed from the darkness within the ruins—a voice that sounded like grinding gravel.
"Enough."
A single, rusted chain flew out from the shadows. It moved with the precision of a viper, coiling around the Crawler's neck. With a violent jerk, the monster was yanked into the darkness. There was a sound of shattering bone and a wet tear, followed by absolute silence.
The remaining Ghouls hesitated. They hissed at the dark threshold, then backed away, dissolving into the charcoal fog as if the darkness inside the gate was more terrifying than they were.
Kiron stood in the entryway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked into the gloom.
A man sat on a throne of broken Caelum-plates. He was massive, his chest bare and covered in a map of silver scars. A thick leather band was tied across his eyes. He didn't have a spear or a bow. Beside him leaned a heavy, blunt training sword made of dense black-wood.
"The resonance of a thousand dead," the man said, tilting his head toward Kiron. "And the smell of a boy who hasn't even learned how to hold his breath."
"Vahn," Nyra said, her voice unusually respectful. "The child is the one from Koda. The Blood-Prayer."
Vahn stood up. He was a head taller than Kiron, and his presence felt like a physical weight pressing down on the floor. He walked toward Kiron, his bare feet silent on the stone. He stopped inches away, his blindfold-covered face inches from Kiron's.
"You have a fire in you, boy," Vahn whispered. "But your body is a paper house. One more 'flicker' and you will burn to ash before you ever reach the High-Isles."
Kiron clenched his fists. "Teach me how to keep the fire inside."
Vahn let out a short, dry laugh. He picked up the black-wood sword and tossed it at Kiron's feet. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.
"Pick it up. If you can move it before the suns set, I'll consider it. If not... I'll let the Ghouls have you. I have no use for a Savior who can't even carry his own weight."
Kiron looked at the heavy, ugly piece of wood. He looked at his scarred, shaking hands. The nightmare flashed in his mind—the woman with the glass shard, the man being torn apart.
He reached down and gripped the hilt.