Chapter 6: Fortress of the Crags
The Crags' jagged spires loomed over Jason as he followed Voren's runner, a lean figure darting through mist-choked ravines. The Farthalin pulsed in his grip, its crimson glow sharper, whispering: Farthalin. The colossus vision—Kaldor, crumbling—gnawed at him, but he shoved it aside. Focus. His scar throbbed, the system's last ping—[Resolve Points: 1600%]—a faint anchor. 1400% Resolve Points—I'm running out of room to breathe. Lynn walked beside him, her rune stone casting green light, the manuscript's weight in her satchel a silent vow. "Voren's cell is close," she said, green eyes scanning the cliffs. She's steady. Celia scouted ahead, her dagger a flicker, violet eyes sharp. Ren's warhammer clinked, his red hair a beacon, his sister's dream fueling each step.
The runner, scarred and silent, led them through a narrow pass, glyphs dim on the walls. A trap is waiting. Jason's blade felt heavy, its edge tested in Crags' ambush. The air thickened, the undercity's hum off-key. Celia's hand flicked, signaling danger. "Rogues," she whispered, her dagger still. Shadows moved above, rogue Forsaken perched on spires, their glyphs flaring red. They're bold. Jason counted eight, their blades crude but lethal. The runner froze, his eyes darting. "They're cutting us off," he hissed, voice low. He's scared.
Jason reacted, blade raised, as a rogue leaped, glyph scorching the stone. He parried, sparks flying, then slammed his fist into the rogue's jaw. Celia struck, her dagger slicing a ward, her violet eyes a storm. "Like hunting traitors," she snarled, feeling another. Ren roared, warhammer crushing a rogue's shield, his voice a vow: "For my sister!" Lynn's rune flared, green light weaving a barrier, her glyphs precise. We're holding. Jason ducked a blade, his instincts sharp, driving his boot into a rogue's knee. The runner darted, his knife flashing, taking a rogue down. He's no coward.
The rogues retreated, their glyphs dimming, leaving a broken rune stone. Celia snatched it, her eyes narrowing. "They're mapping Crags," she said, tossing it to Lynn. A bigger play. Lynn studied it, her rune stone glowing. "They're after the statue, but Voren's paths are safer." The runner nodded, his scars catching the light. "Voren trusts few," he said, eyeing Jason's Farthalin. "But Lynn's word holds." It felt like a test—one we'd passed, for now. Ren's gaze softened, his voice low: "My sister led runners like him. She died for Crags." He's opening up.
The pass widened, revealing Voren's camp—tents of scavenged leather, glyphs pulsing on stone barriers, and runners patrolling. A fortress. A tall, grizzled figure emerged, his eyes like steel—Voren. "Lynn," he greeted, his voice rough but warm, then turned to Jason, his gaze locking on the Farthalin. "That stone… It's dangerous. Why do you carry it?" He knows more than he's letting on. Jason met his stare, the Farthalin's warmth steady. "It chose me," he said, voice firm. Voren's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "I've fought for Crags since the rune-war's fall. We protect what's left—statues, glyphs, hope. But that stone… It's tied to the colossus. Be ready." He's a leader.
The Farthalin burned, a vision flashing: a colossus stirring, Kaldor's glyphs fading, a voice hissing: You're mine.The colossus—it's closer, its presence heavier in my mind. Jason gripped his blade, senses taut. The system pinged: [System Insight: Gained Voren's trust. Reward: 200 Resolve Points. Resolve Points: 1800%.] Before they could settle, a glyph on the camp's barrier flared red, then exploded in a burst of blue flame, stone shards flying. Runners shouted, scrambling for cover. Trouble.
Voren's voice cut through: "Glyph malfunction—fix it!" Lynn's rune stone glowed, her green vines smothering the flames, but another glyph sparked, threatening to collapse a barrier. Jason lunged, slamming the Farthalin into the glyph's core, its crimson light shattering the rune, the explosion fizzling out. Celia darted to another, her dagger precise, while Ren shielded a runner from debris, his warhammer steady. The camp stabilized, the glyphs dimming, but the air buzzed with tension. Voren nodded, his steel eyes approving. "You're no strangers to Crags' chaos," he said, a faint smirk breaking through. We're in.
Lynn's eyes met Jason's, her resolve iron. "Voren's our ally," she said, her voice steady. Celia's dagger twirled, Ren's warhammer gleamed, and the runner—Kael—stood closer, his loyalty earned. The camp's glyphs pulsed, a fortress holding against the dark, but the Farthalin's whisper grew, a shadow coiling in Jason's mind, pulling him toward the statue—and the fight ahead.