Thalia's shadow‑ward had barely held through the night. Dawn's feeble light filtered through the Blighted Wood's twisted canopy yet did nothing to dispel the viscous malice clinging to their camp. The sensation of unseen eyes watching never waned—in fact, it pressed in on them like a cold serpent's tongue against the skin.
"We can't stay here any longer," Karriion growled, snuffing out the flickering fire. He hefted his hammer, his squat frame coiled like a drawn bow. "They're waiting—for us to falter, or for…" He glanced at Thalia, who still panted from sustaining the ward. Every breath she drew cost her dearly.
Raine nodded, clutching the wrapped Star‑flame Blade's raw form against his side. Last night's visions—ancestors twisted by corruption—burned in his mind. He could feel the wraiths close by.
"Let's go," he rasped. They broke camp swiftly and moved out. Thalia's shield collapsed; she stumbled, and Raine caught her. She gently brushed his hand away and shook her head—she was all right. Yet her fingertips were ice, her limbs trembling.
They chose a narrow gorge. Jagged walls rose on either side, streaked with corrosion and strange moss. Shadows pooled like ink; the air reeked of dust, rot, and metallic rust.
"Watch your step," Karriion cautioned, leading the way with sure foot. "Too quiet here."
Before he could finish, the shadows along the walls rippled. An otherworldly chill flooded the gorge. Several translucent figures drifted into view.
They wore tattered garments of an ancient noble house—star‑descendant finery, identical to what Raine had glimpsed in his nightmare. Their edges flickered; they exhaled a foul, icy mist. Worse still, where their faces should have been were empty, bottomless voids. From those hollows glimmered tainted pinpricks of starlight, alive with hatred and madness.
"Wraiths!" Karriion roared, swinging his hammer in a wide arc. The blow struck as if through water—only a ripple marked the impact. The wraith wavered but remained unharmed.
"Physical attacks are useless!" Karriion shouted, hauling Raine and Thalia behind him. He dropped into a squat, hammer haft braced on the ground. Dwarven runes around his feet flared, forging an iron‑hard circle of defense. "Damn it… Starborn wraiths!"
Raine's heart thundered. These were his ancestors—once guardians against the Blight—twisted into these abominations.
The wraiths advanced without a sound, skeletal hands pointing at the trio. Several raised gaunt arms, gathering dark pulses at their fingertips. That corrupt, starlit energy reeked of decay and shadow.
"Watch out!" Thalia warned. She forced herself upright, hands weaving sigils, coalescing a shield of black shadow before her. Shreek! Shreek! Shadow‑forged darts burst forth at the wraiths, striking the barrier with hissing corrosion. The shield quivered, its color dimming.
Thalia gasped, a fine thread of blood at her lip. "Their magic… it's been tainted."
Another wraith twisted its arms into a hollow embrace, forming a swirling orb of dark star‑energy, which hurtled toward Karriion. The air itself warped around it. "Dwarves don't get woozy!" Karriion snarled, charging the orb with his rune‑blessed pauldrons. Thunk! The orb shattered, but Karriion reeled back, dizziness flickering across his eyes. "Still… a bit dizzy."
Even worse, most attacks zeroed in on Raine. The wraiths' empty sockets seemed fixed on him, as though he were a sacrificial offering.
Raine danced aside, each dodge lancing hot agony through his mind. He felt a sickening bond tugging from the wraiths—shattered pain and twisted hatred crashing into his thoughts. His Starblood stirred, uneasy, and he sensed a faint, pollut‑burn sting at every pulse.
"Raine!" Thalia's voice cracked. "They want your blood—your starlight!" Her tone trembled. Though her shadow magic slowed and eroded the wraiths, they had learned to absorb her strikes.
Karriion stood his ground, relying on dwarven strength and rune‑forged defense. Each hammer strike, though unable to destroy, hammered them back. "You slippery beasts! Harder to handle than cellar slime!" he roared. "Can't a dwarf get a proper drink after this fight?"
Raine grit his teeth. He couldn't merely dodge. Thalia was fading, Karriion would tire—he had to strike back. Summoning courage against the searing backlash, he took a deep breath and flung his palm forward, kindling a sphere of pure, golden starlight. It glowed warmly—an antithesis to the wraiths' corrupted gleam. "Purification!" he shouted, hurling the light at an oncoming specter.
On impact, it was like molten steel on ice. Ssshhh! A banshee wail rang out—an anguished, echoing howl. The wraith's form twisted, smoke billowing from the burned edges of its ethereal flesh. It staggered back, its empty pit of a face fixed on Raine with raging grief and envy.
Starlight burned the wraith—its first taste of pure magic. Yet it did not vanish; it flickered like a dying candle. And Raine's chest convulsed as the backlash scorched his veins.
"Keep it up!" Karriion bellowed, hammer whirling with renewed vigor. Thalia, rallying, launched fresh tendrils of shadow to bind more wraiths.
The gorge became a crucible of pure light and poisoned darkness, runic glints and fetid gloom colliding. The wraiths' voiceless laments wove with Karriion's battle-cries, Raine's painful gasps, and Thalia's ragged breaths. Time slowed to a crawl.
After what felt like an eternity—or a heartbeat—the wraiths' assault slackened. They still fixed Raine with their hollow stares, but their forms thinned, dissipating into the shadows along the walls. As if they'd never been.
The gorge fell into a once‑again uneasy silence. All that remained were the three warriors' ragged breaths.
"They've… retreated?" Karriion panted, checking his warded armor that now bore streaks of corruption.
Thalia leaned, supporting herself on the rock face, blood still at her lip. "Only for now," she murmured. "They weren't destroyed—just driven off."
Raine slid down to sit, completely spent. The backlash roared through him again, each heartbeat a wall of white‑hot pain. He stared at the spot where the wraiths had fled—no triumph filled him, only profound sorrow and dread. Those were his kin: members of the Dawnstar house, once proud wielders of star magic, now twisted by the Blight and turned against their descendant.
A cold doom gripped Raine's heart. These wraiths were only a prelude. What deeper horrors lurked in the Blighted Wood? Within that accursed floating ruin of Duskstar—the Fallen Star City? More powerful specters? Far darker forces?
He had once believed his family's ruin arose from politics or misfortune. Now he saw a darker truth: his lineage's past was entwined with the Blight, the forest, and the starving maw of shadow. The truth he sought was heavier than any blade could bear.