Chapter 7: Guardians of the Crags
Voren's camp buzzed with life—runners etching glyphs on armor, smiths hammering blades, and glyphs pulsing on stone walls. Jason stood at its heart, the Farthalin's crimson glow heavy in his hand, its whisper a drumbeat: Farthalin. The colossus vision—Kaldor fading—lingered, but he focused, scar throbbing. This is real. The system's hum—[Resolve Points: 1800%]—felt distant. 1600% Resolve Points—I'm pushing my limits. Lynn faced Voren, her rune stone steady, green eyes locked on his. "We have the manuscript," she said, voice firm, satchel tight. She's negotiating. Celia leaned against a spire, her dagger twirling, violet eyes scanning. Ren's warhammer rested, his red hair catching firelight, his sister's memory a quiet fire.
Voren, grizzled and tall, studied them, his leather armor etched with glyphs, eyes sharp as blades. "You bring a stranger," he said, voice gravelly, glancing at Jason's Farthalin. He's cautious. Lynn nodded. "Jason fought rogues. He's one of us." Voren's gaze lingered, then softened. "Crags trusts Lynn. Show me." A leader. Lynn opened the satchel, revealing the manuscript's glyphs. Voren traced them, his fingers steady. "This leads to the statue. But rogues infest Crags. We've lost runners." He's bleeding too.
Voren led them to a stone table, maps etched with sigils. A runner joined them—Kael, the scarred guide from before—his eyes wary but loyal. "The statue's north, past the ash rivers," Kael said, pointing to a spire on the map. "It's guarded by glyphs that wake stone—beasts, traps. We've lost two to its defenses." He's seen it. Voren nodded, his voice low. "The Rune War broke Kaldor. Crags hold their bones—statues, relics. The lords' glyphs turned, and colossi rampaged. We're reclaiming what's ours." Like Lynn's vow. Jason's scar pulsed, the Farthalin's warmth unsettling. It's listening. Voren's eyes met his. "That stone—dangerous. You wield it, you're marked." He knows more. The system pinged: [System Insight: Gained Crags' intel. Reward: 200 Resolve Points. Resolve Points: 2000%.]
Celia's voice cut through: "Rogues are circling." She pointed to a map, her violet eyes sharp. "They're hunting the statue." She's restless. Voren nodded. "My runners will guide you, but you prove your grit." It's another test, one we can't afford to fail. Ren's grip tightened, his voice low: "My sister ran these paths. I'll see it through." He's all in. Lynn's rune stone glowed, her resolve iron. "We move at dawn," she said, studying the map. She's planning. Kael handed Jason a glyph-etched vambrace, its sigils pulsing faintly. "For the ash rivers," he said, his tone gruff but earnest. They're preparing us.
The Farthalin flared, a vision striking: a colossus towering, Kaldor's spires dust, a voice roaring: You're mine.The colossus—it's warning me, its voice a threat in my skull. Jason shook it off, blade ready. The camp's glyphs dimmed, a tremor shaking the stone. Trouble. Voren's eyes narrowed, his runners tensing. "Something's stirring," he said, hand on his blade. Shadows moved beyond the camp's barriers—rogue scouts, their glyphs flaring red, blades glinting in the firelight. They're testing us.
Jason moved, blade slashing as a rogue lunged, glyph scorching the ground. He parried, pain flaring as the heat grazed his arm, then struck, his blade cutting through the rogue's glyph in a burst of red light. Celia darted, her dagger slicing a ward, violet eyes lethal. Ren roared, his warhammer smashing a rogue back, his strength unyielding. Lynn's rune flared, green vines binding a scout, her barrier holding the line. Voren joined, his blade precise, felling a rogue with a single strike. "They're probing our defenses!" he shouted, his voice a command. The skirmish ended quickly, the rogues retreating into the mist, but the camp's tension lingered.
Kael panted, his knife bloodied, his respect for the team clear. "They'll be back," he said, wiping his blade. Voren's steel eyes met Jason's, a nod of approval. "You fight like Crags' own," he said. We're earning our place. Celia's dagger stilled, Ren's warhammer gleamed, and Lynn's gaze locked on Jason's Farthalin. It's tied to the stone. The whisper surged, a shadow coiling, pulling him toward the statue—and its secrets.