The faint glow of the shard in Caelan’s hand illuminated the tense faces of his companions. Each of them stared at the pulsating fragment, the silence broken only by their uneven breaths.

  “That thing… it wasn’t natural,” Torrin whispered, his voice shaking.

  “No kidding,” Serin muttered, her bow still drawn, though her hands trembled. “And that shard—it’s not like the ones I’ve seen before.”

  Caelan tightened his grip on the shard. The moment he’d struck the creature, he’d felt a strange connection—like the shard had called to him. Now, its power throbbed faintly, resonating with the malediction buried deep within him.

  “It’s tied to the ruins,” Veyra said suddenly, her scarred face thoughtful. “These shards aren’t just scattered treasures. They’re part of something bigger.”

  “Bigger than us,” Daren added grimly, lowering his shield. “We need to move. If there’s one of those things, there are bound to be more.”

  Caelan slipped the shard into his pouch, keeping his expression unreadable. The creature, the shard, the ruins—they all felt tied to his curse. He needed answers, but for now, survival was paramount.

  Navigating the ruins proved even more treacherous after the encounter. The walls seemed to hum faintly, an oppressive energy pressing down on them. Traps became more intricate, and the few creatures they encountered were smaller but no less vicious.

  As they ventured deeper, the group fell into an uneasy rhythm. Torrin disarmed traps with shaking hands, Daren led the charge through narrow corridors, and Veyra’s spells provided light and a layer of defense. Serin took the rear, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows.

  Caelan moved silently among them, his thoughts a storm of questions. Why had the shard responded to him? And what were those fragments of memories he’d seen during the battle—a fleeting image of hooded figures, chanting in a language he didn’t know?

  “Watch out!” Serin’s shout snapped him from his thoughts.

  A section of the floor ahead collapsed without warning, revealing jagged spikes below. Daren yanked Torrin back just in time.

  “Stay focused,” Serin scolded, glaring at Caelan. “We can’t afford mistakes here.”

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  Caelan gave her a curt nod, gripping his sword tighter.

  Hours later, they entered a vast chamber. The air was heavier here, the faint whispers that had plagued them growing louder. The walls were covered in ancient carvings that glowed faintly, depicting scenes of battle, rituals, and strange creatures that resembled the monster they had fought earlier.

  “What is this place?” Torrin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “It’s… a tomb,” Veyra said, her fingers brushing one of the carvings. “Or a shrine. These symbols—they’re linked to an ancient cult. One that worshipped… something.”

  “Something like that creature?” Serin asked, her bow ready.

  “Perhaps,” Veyra replied. “Or something much worse.”

  At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, upon which rested another shard. Unlike the one Caelan had taken, this one glowed brightly, casting the room in a faint, eerie light.

  “We should leave it,” Daren said firmly. “Nothing good comes from messing with things like this.”

  Caelan, however, was drawn to the shard. The moment he stepped closer, the whispers grew louder, almost intelligible. His heartbeat quickened as the shard’s light pulsed in sync with his malediction.

  “Caelan,” Serin said sharply. “Don’t—”

  Before she could finish, the room shook violently. The carvings on the walls flared, and from the shadows, more creatures emerged. These were smaller than the first, but their numbers made up for their lack of size.

  “Get ready!” Daren bellowed, raising his shield.

  The creatures swarmed, their stone-like claws scraping against armor and flesh. Daren held the line, his shield absorbing blow after blow, while Serin’s arrows picked off those that tried to flank them.

  “Veyra!” Serin shouted. “We need fire—now!”

  The mage didn’t hesitate, unleashing a torrent of flames that scorched a path through the horde. Torrin darted through the chaos, using his daggers to take down stragglers.

  Caelan, however, was fixated on the shard. As the battle raged, its glow intensified, the whispers now deafening. He could feel its pull, a promise of power that both terrified and tempted him.

  “Caelan, what are you doing?!” Serin screamed, narrowly avoiding a claw aimed for her throat.

  With a surge of resolve, Caelan grabbed the shard. The moment his hand closed around it, a searing pain shot through his arm, and his vision blurred.

  The world around him faded, replaced by a scene of fire and shadows. Hooded figures stood in a circle, chanting as a massive, grotesque creature writhed in the center. Its body was chained, but its eyes burned with hatred—and recognition.

  “You cannot escape,” a voice echoed in Caelan’s mind, deep and resonant. “You are one of us.”

  The vision shifted to a younger Caelan, alone in the woods, his body wracked with pain as dark energy seeped into him. The same hooded figures watched from the shadows, their eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

  “Your fate was sealed the day you were born,” the voice continued.

  “Caelan!”

  Serin’s voice snapped him back. He was on his knees, the shard clutched tightly in his hand. The creatures had been defeated, their bodies littering the chamber, but his companions stared at him with a mix of fear and concern.

  “What… happened to you?” Veyra asked, her voice shaking.

  Caelan looked down at the shard, its glow now dim. He felt different—stronger, but also more fragile, as if the shard had unlocked something within him that he wasn’t ready to face.

  “This shard… it’s tied to my curse,” he said quietly. “And to them.”

  “Them?” Serin asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “The ones who did this to me,” Caelan said, standing. “The ones who cursed me. They’re watching. And they won’t stop until I’m dead.”

  The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his words settling over them.

  “We need to leave,” Daren said finally. “Whatever’s going on, it’s bigger than us. And if they’re watching, we’re all in danger.”