The journey back through the Dead Vale was faster but no less perilous. The cursed winds still whispered in forgotten tongues, and shadows flickered at the edge of their vision. Yet no more spirits rose to challenge them; the defeat of the bone wyrm had silenced the worst of the lingering magic.
By the third night, they reached the shores where Ashwing waited, hidden among the black reeds. Merek spent long hours reinforcing the boat's wards while Thalen quietly repaired their torn cloaks and battered weapons with whispered spells.
Kael sat alone at the water's edge, staring into the dark waves. The shards pulsed faintly beneath his tunic one warm, one cold like twin heartbeats.
"We're running out of time, aren't we?" he said without turning.
Lysara approached, her boots silent on the wet sand. She crouched beside him, her armor creaking softly. "You saw what Malagar did to the Vale centuries ago. Imagine what he could do now with unchecked power."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "Then we need to move faster."
Thalen joined them, his face solemn. "And wiser. Raw power alone will not win this war, Kael. Malagar commands armies. He has sorcerers, assassins, creatures bred from nightmare. If we are to challenge him... we must rally the old bloodlines, the free cities, the scattered Orders."
"The world's fractured," Merek said, approaching with a tired grin. "But maybe, just maybe, if they believe the Crown can be made whole again... they'll fight with us."
Kael rose, his resolve hardening. "Then we gather them. One by one if we have to."
Thalen nodded approvingly. "First, the Skyholds of Aerlyn. They will not come easily but their loyalty could turn the tide."
Lysara smirked. "You'll love Aerlyn, Kael. Think storms, cliffs, impossible politics... and worse manners."
Kael gave a tired laugh. "Sounds like home."
The next dawn, under gray and gathering skies, they pushed Ashwing out into the tide and set sail eastward toward Aerlyn, toward new dangers, and toward the hope of an army.
But even as they crossed the water, black sails unfurled on the distant horizon pursuers sent by Malagar, swift and merciless.
The hunt had already begun.