Chapter 5: Echoes of the Crags
Jason's boots crunched on loose stone as he followed Lynn through Kaldor's twisting tunnels, the Farthalin's crimson glow casting eerie shadows on the glyph-etched walls. The manuscript, tucked in Lynn's satchel, weighed heavier than stone—a map to Kaldor's first statue, a beacon of hope, or a trap. It's our shot. His scar pulsed, the Farthalin's whisper a constant hum: Farthalin. The vision from the vault—Kaldor shadowed, a colossus looming—clung to his mind, sharp as shrapnel. The colossus—it's awake, and it's watching me. The system's last ping lingered: [Resolve Points: 1450%.] 1200% Resolve Points—feels like I'm on borrowed time. The numbers felt like a countdown, pressing against his soldier's instincts.
Lynn led, her rune stone casting green light, her robe shimmering with sigils. "The statues in Crags," she said, voice steady, green eyes scanning the tunnel. "The manuscript says it channels Kaldor's power—glyphs from before the Rune War." She's piecing it together. She glanced back, her gaze softening. "The lords' greed broke us, Jason. Their glyphs turned and burned everything. We're the forsaken, fixing their sins." Her words carried a scar—exile, failure—but resolve burned brighter. She's our brain.
Celia scouted ahead, her black hair a shadow, violet eyes catching every flicker. Her dagger twirled, a reflex of a hunter. "Rogues are tracking us," she said, voice low, pausing to trace a scuff on the stone. She misses nothing. Ren trailed, warhammer slung, his red hair catching the glyph-light, eyes fierce. "For my sister," he muttered, a vow to unite Kaldor. He's our heart. Jason gripped his scavenged blade, its edge worn but sharp, senses taut. I'm their soldier.
The tunnel opened to Crags' jagged expanse—towering stone spires, their glyphs dim, cliffs dropping into mist. A kill zone. The air grew heavy, the undercity's hum discordant. Celia froze, her dagger still. "Ambush," she hissed, violet eyes locking on the mist. Rogue Forsaken surged from the shadows, their armor patched, blades and glyphs flaring red. They're organized. Jason counted ten, their leader clutching a crude rune stone, its light unstable. "The stone!" the leader snarled, eyes on the Farthalin. They want it.
Jason moved, blade slashing, parrying a rogue's strike. Pain flared as a glyph scorched his arm, but he twisted, slamming his boot into the rogue's chest. Celia darted, her dagger slicing a ward, her violet eyes lethal. "Like my brother's hunts," she growled, feeling another. Ren roared, warhammer crushing armor, his rage a storm: "For Kaldor!" Lynn's rune flared, green light weaving a shield, her glyphs holding the line. We're a unit. Jason ducked a blade, his instincts fluid, driving his fist into a rogue's throat. The leader's rune pulsed, stone cracking underfoot—then shattered as Lynn's glyph struck, sending him reeling.
The rogues fled, leaving a glyph-map, its sigils matching the manuscript. Celia snatched it, her eyes sharp. "They're after the statue, same as us." A race. Lynn studied the map, her rune stone glowing. "Crags' runners can help," she said. "Voren's cell—they know these paths." New allies. A runner emerged, lean and scarred, his eyes wary. "Voren sent me," he said, glancing at Jason's Farthalin. He knows something about the Farthalin—his glance lingered too long, his scarred hands twitching with unease.
The runner, who introduced himself as Kael, spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "The statue's a relic from before the Rune War," he said, his eyes darting to the spire ahead. "It's guarded by glyphs that wake stone beasts, traps, and worse. Voren's cell has lost three runners to it. That stone you're holding… It's tied to the colossus. Be careful." He's seen its power. Jason's scar pulsed, the Farthalin's warmth a warning. Lynn nodded, her expression grim. "We need to move fast," she said, adjusting the manuscript in her satchel.
Kael led them through Crags, the path narrowing to a glyph-etched bridge over a chasm, its blue runes flickering erratically. Looks unstable. The bridge trembled under their weight, glyphs pulsing faster. "It's waking!" Kael shouted, his voice tight. A rune flared red, the stone cracking, chunks falling into the mist below. Jason grabbed Lynn's arm, pulling her back as the bridge buckled. Celia leaped, her dagger embedding in a spire to steady herself, violet eyes fierce. Ren swung his warhammer, smashing a loose slab aside, his strength a bulwark.
Lynn's rune stone flared, green vines weaving across the bridge, binding the stone together. "Go!" she yelled, her voice strained, sweat beading on her brow. Jason moved, his boots slipping on the crumbling edge, the Farthalin's crimson glow steadying his focus. They crossed the bridge, collapsing behind them, dust rising in a cloud. Kael panted, his scarred face pale. "That's Crags for you," he muttered, his respect for the team clear. He's one of us now.
The Farthalin burned, a vision striking: a colossus rising, Kaldor's spires crumbling, a voice hissing: You're mine.It's stronger. Jason shook it off, his scar throbbing, blade tight in his grip. The system pinged: [System Insight: Crossed Crags' bridge. Reward: 150 Resolve Points. Resolve Points: 1600%.] Lynn's eyes met his, her resolve iron. "The statue's close," she said, pointing to the spire, its glyphs pulsing faintly. Celia's dagger twirled, Ren's warhammer gleamed, and Kael nodded, ready to guide.
A tremor shook Crags, glyphs flickering, the hum breaking. It's waking. The Farthalin's whisper surged, a shadow coiling in Jason's mind, pulling him toward the statue—and the darkness beyond.