The traveller tore through the forest, breath ragged, boots pounding the dirt. He had been running ever since the night in the ruins—ever since he’d stolen the shard from those robed killers who took everything from him. Now their hunt had turned relentless, torches flashing behind him like angry fireflies.
Branches tore at his cloak, roots clawed at his boots, but he didn’t slow. The shard pulsed in his palm, faint sparks of lightning crawling across his knuckles as if urging him on. He thought of his father, the protector of their village, who had once wielded this very shard as part of the Spear of Aethernus—a weapon said to have slain gods. The traveller had tried to wield it the same way… but only a weak gust had answered him.
I’m not him. Not yet. But I’ll survive. I have to.
The forest thinned. Ahead, a faint glow shimmered through the trees. The traveller skidded to a halt and ducked behind a mossy log, catching his breath as shouts echoed behind him.
Through the shadows, he saw her: a young woman with silver hair in travel?worn leathers, crouched over a wounded man. Her hands glowed faintly as she worked, and a bow was slung across her back. She wasn’t dressed like the cult.
Another traveler? Or bait?
The traveller crept closer.
The woman’s head snapped up. Her hand flew to her bowstring.
“Who’s there?”
He raised one hand slowly, shard hidden in the other.
“Easy. I’m not with them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Them?”
The distant torchlight glinted between the trees. The woman’s jaw set grimly.
“Black Sun scouts. You’re running from them.”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“And you’re not one of them?”
“If I were,” she said, nocking an arrow, “you’d already be dead.”
A distant shout rose, closer this time. The woman’s gaze swept the trees, muttering under her breath as if confirming something.
“I knew they’d come this way.”
Dark figures emerged from the treeline, weapons drawn. The traveller and the stranger fought back to back in the clearing—arrows hissed, lightning sparked, knives flashed. But more kept coming—far more than any simple patrol.
The traveller rammed his knife into a robed man’s throat and growled, “You said this is a scout party, you damn liar! In what world is this a scout party?!”
The woman loosed another arrow and cursed. “I didn’t think they’d send this many!”
The traveller spat blood and laughed grimly.
“Yeah? Looks like we’re both screwed then!”
The ground shook. A hulking figure stepped through the cult’s ranks, clad in blackened steel with the Black Sun insignia burned into his chestplate. The cultists parted for him like shadows fleeing the moonlight.
“After this battle,” the knight’s voice thundered, “you mutts are going through hell if you can’t handle these two insects.”
The woman’s face drained of color.
“Run,” she hissed, eyes wide. “Run now! You can’t fight him!”
The traveller froze, heart pounding. The knight’s stride made the earth quake. Every fiber of him screamed to fight. He pictured his father’s final stand, the shadow?wielder’s blade, the burning homes…
I want him dead. I want them all dead.
But the woman’s words cut through his rage. She knows things. If I die here, I learn nothing.
He grit his teeth, sparks crawling over his boots.
“Shiiiit…” he muttered. “Let’s grab her and run.”
He cut down another cultist, then yanked the woman by the arm.
“We’re leaving. Hold on!”
They bolted through the forest. The cult howled in pursuit, torches weaving like serpents behind them. The armored knight’s roars shook the night as he gave chase.
The traveller forced more lightning into his legs, the shard burning hot in his palm. Each stride was a crackling thunderclap, sparks tearing at the earth. His lungs screamed. His vision blurred.
Through the dark, he spotted a jagged rise of stone—a narrow path spiraling up to a cliff.
If I can reach the top… bottleneck them… buy us time…
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“Hold on tight!” he shouted, voice raw.
He pushed harder, faster than ever before, lightning lashing the ground as they sprinted up the rocky path. His muscles trembled, his heart hammering like a drum.
They burst onto the plateau at the cliff’s edge, gravel skidding and tumbling into the abyss below. Wind howled around them, tugging at cloaks and hair. Behind them, the cult massed like a swarm, torches blazing like a forest of flame.
The knight pointed his sword toward them.
“Coward! Face me with honor, if you have any left!”
The traveller’s chest heaved. His pulse thundered in his ears, each breath like fire in his lungs.
“I’m sixteen! I’m not a damn knight!”
“I don’t even have a sword, jackass!”
He crouched low, shard clenched in his palm. The stone seared hot against his skin, vibrating with an ancient, furious rhythm.
Come on… Dad… show me how you did it…
Lightning hissed between his fingers, wild and blue-white. The smell of ozone flooded the air. Sparks crawled up his arms like living things, weaving between veins and muscle, charging every nerve with crackling fire.
The ground beneath his boots trembled with the buildup of raw force. His knuckles split from the energy, tiny arcs snapping outward like miniature storms. Thunder gathered deep in his gut.
With a scream torn from his core, the traveller slammed his fist into the stone.
BOOOOOOM.
The cliff buckled beneath the impact. A blinding flash erupted outward. Boulders split like clay. The air exploded with deafening thunder, sending cultists tumbling like leaves in a storm. Dust choked the air, and jagged stone plummeted into the ravine in a roaring cascade.
Through the chaos, the knight roared and cleaved a falling boulder in half with a single, brutal arc.
“You little spark-cursed whelp! When I catch you, I’ll break every bone you’ve got—and leave you wishing I missed one.”
The traveller grinned through gritted teeth, muscles trembling and singed.
“Kiss my ass, old man!”
The woman laughed despite herself as the traveller grabbed her arm.
“Let’s go. I need answers.”
They fled deep into the forest until the shouting faded. At last, they stopped by a hidden spring. Moonlight rippled across the water as the traveller dropped to his knees, panting, hands trembling from overuse of the shard. His legs still buzzed with fading lightning.
The woman crouched opposite him, bow across her knees, studying him in silence.
“Why did you do all that? And… how are you able to use the shard? It’s supposed to only answer to blood tied to the wielder of the Spear of Aethernus… Somnus.”
The traveller let out a tired, bitter laugh.
“First? I just hate those bastards. Any time I get to screw them up, I will.”
He lowered his gaze to the shard in his palm, watching faint sparks dance along its surface.
“As for the second question… I don’t know. I just tried to copy what my dad did.”
He took a shaky breath and began to speak, his voice low but steady.
“My father was the protector of our village. He carried this shard—said it was a piece of something older, something that once killed gods. He told me the history, the weight of it. Said if I ever had to hold it, I should remember it’s not just power… it’s responsibility.”
His hand tightened into a fist.
“Then the Black Sun cult came. They burned our homes, slaughtered anyone who fought back. Their shardkeeper—the one who controlled shadows—fought my father. I saw him… I saw him fall.”
His voice wavered, but he forced himself to go on.
“After that, they rounded up everyone. Their cuffs weren’t built for kids, so I slipped free. My father shouted at me to run, to take the shard and keep it safe. I was the fastest in our village, so I grabbed it. The shard was sitting on the table unguarded in the shadow man's tent. And I ran. I ran until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t save them.”
Lightning flickered faintly in his eyes.
“For years, I’ve trained myself. Tried to use this thing, tried to get faster, stronger. But against shardkeepers? That’s not enough.”
He looked up at her, the memory of smoke and screams still burning behind his eyes.
“Five years I’ve been carrying this… hoping I’d find those bastards again. And tonight… I did.”
The traveller straightened, still trembling, and fixed her with a steady gaze.
“I answered your questions. Now answer mine. Who is the Black Sun cult? How can they have shardkeepers? What are they after? Why did they go after my village? And lastly… why are you hunting them?”
She lowered her bow and spoke.
“The Black Sun Cult worships the tyrant gods Somnus defeated. They forced Somnus’s descendants to breed with their followers, producing children forged as weapons—destined to become their Shardkeepers.”
She paused, eyes scanning the trees.
“They want to resurrect those same gods. Every shard, every death, feeds that goal.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t think your village was chosen at random. I’m pretty sure they’ve tried before—and failed. Maybe your father was the one who stopped them. Now, I’m guessing they sent a shardkeeper to finish what they started.”
Her voice trembled.
“As for me… my mother joined them. She believed they could bring my father back. She told me, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll return with Father soon.’ But those bastards… they told me she was sacrificed to fuel their summoning, all for the cult’s twisted cause.”
The traveller’s jaw tightened.
“Then we’re not so different.”
“No,” she said softly, eyes fierce. “We’re not.”
The traveller held out his fist, the shard glowing faintly in his palm.
“Then let’s hunt together. Two heads are better than one.”
She stared, then smiled despite herself. She bumped her fist with his.
“Two heads… and one hell of a storm.”
“Name’s Lysera,” she said at last.
“Kaelen,” he answered.
Far away in the night, the drums began again—slow, steady, and drawing closer.
? 2025 Damien Shard. All rights reserved. This story and all characters are original creations of the author. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution is prohibited.
