Adrian Valorian's blood roared, the infirmary's sterile walls trembling as the white-cloaked figure's mirror pulsed with the Heart of Eldoria's light. The vision within—Adrian, hollow-eyed, his blood draining, a prisoner of the Heart—was a noose tightening around his heart. The figure's words—The Heart's truth is your end—were a death knell, its magic a storm pinning Adrian, Lira, and Eryn in place. Morna was gone, her silver cloak dissolved in the outpost's ruin, but Kael Valorian, his traitor uncle, and the network's shadow loomed, and the Heart's power was awake, its relics a hydra with endless heads.
Lira Vey's scream pierced the chaos, her dagger flashing despite the blood on her lip and the bruise darkening her cheek. "Adrian!" she shouted, straining against the figure's magic, her eyes fierce but desperate. Princess Eryn's dagger was raised, her arm trembling, while Professor Elara's spell flickered, her hands sparking uselessly. King Alaric's guards were frozen, their armour clattering, as the mirror's light burned, its vision a promise of Adrian's fall.
His bandaged palm throbbed, the sacrifice of shattering Morna's locket a fresh wound, his spell-burned arm a lattice of scars. The Draven ring pulsed, its sigil a faint beacon, his tattered cloak barely concealing it. His weak magic was a dying ember, but his mind was a blade, cutting through panic. "Not my end," he growled, his voice raw, lunging forward, pain a distant roar as he tackled a fallen guard's sword, its weight clumsy but defiant.
The white-cloaked figure's eyes glinted, its face hidden, its voice a chorus of whispers. "Valorian blood binds the Heart," it said, the mirror flaring, the vision sharpening—Adrian's form crumbling, his father's scarred face behind him, trapped in the void. "Your father failed. You will, too."
The words ignited Adrian's rage, his sword slashing at the mirror, sparks flying. His father, alive but a prisoner, was a fire in his veins, Kael's betrayal a shadow he couldn't escape. The guardian's hum surged, faint but fierce, its whisper—Break it—a call he couldn't ignore. "Lira, the mirror!" he shouted, dodging a wave of the figure's magic, the infirmary's cots splintering in its storm.
Lira dove, her dagger aimed at the mirror's edge, but the figure's hand caught her wrist, its strength inhuman, hurling her against a wall. Her cry stabbed Adrian's heart, and Eryn charged, her dagger sparking against the mirror's frame, but the figure's magic knocked her back, her armour clattering. Elara's voice broke through, strained but urgent. "The mirror's a relic!" she shouted, her hands glowing with a desperate spell. "Your blood, Corveth—it's the key!"
Adrian's blood sang, the Draven ring burning, its sigil a beacon. The journal's torn pages, scattered by Elara, named relics across Calethar and beyond, each tied to the Heart, each demanding Valorian blood. Kael's crown, Morna's chains, and now this mirror—his family's curse was Eldoria's battlefield. He lunged again, his sword grazing the mirror, pain searing his scars, his weak magic flaring, a spark against the Heart's might.
The figure laughed, its cloak swirling, the mirror's vision shifting—his father, screaming, his blood fueling a void-storm, Kael's crimson cloak a shadow behind him. "You can't save him," the figure said, its magic a tide that staggered Adrian, his sword slipping. "The network owns you."
"Liar!" Adrian roared, his blood a drumbeat, the guardian's voice a thunderclap: Bind or break. Lira scrambled to her feet, her dagger slashing the figure's cloak, tearing its white fabric. The figure snarled, its magic faltering, and Eryn's guards rallied, their blades a chorus. Elara's spell hit, a net of light that staggered the figure, the mirror wavering.
Adrian dove for it, his bandaged hand screaming, his fingers brushing its surface, cold as death but alive with power. The vision burned—his face, hollow, his father's beside it, both bound to the Heart. The guardian's voice was clear: Sacrifice. His eyes met Lira's, her scream a distant echo, and he drove his hand into the mirror, glass shattering, his blood pouring, a spark against its might.
The figure screamed, its form dissolving into shadow, the mirror's light exploding. The infirmary stilled, the Heart's hum gone, but Adrian's strength failed, his knees buckling. Lira caught him, her arms trembling, tears streaking her face. "You're a damned fool," she gasped, her voice breaking, blood trickling from her lip.
Eryn helped Elara stand, her face grim but relieved. "It's gone," she said, her voice low. "But Kael's still out there."
Alaric's voice cut through, steady but shaken. Seal the palace. We hunt the relics—now."
Adrian's chest heaved, the Draven ring cool but alive, his blood a fading heartbeat. The figure's words—Your father failed—were a knife, twisting with every breath. He scanned the infirmary, spotting the journal's pages, their runes dim but damning. A new page caught his eye, its script faint but chilling—a map, not of Calethar, but of Eldoria's core, a vault beneath the palace, marked Heart's Origin.
His heart stopped, the ring's pulse surging. "Elara," he rasped, pointing at the page, "what's this?"
Elara's face paled, her hands trembling as she lifted the page. "It's… a record," she said, her voice low. "The Heart wasn't forged in Calethar. It was born here, in Eldoria, in a vault sealed by Valorian blood. Your father… he guarded it."
The world tilted, pain and rage warring in Adrian's chest. His father's survival, Kael's betrayal, and now the Heart's origin—a truth buried beneath the palace, tied to his blood. Lira's hand tightened, her voice urgent. "We'll find it. Together."
But the infirmary's walls trembled, a low hum rising—not the guardian's, not the mirror's, but something deeper, a voice cold and ancient: Valorian, you're home. A shadow moved, not the white-cloaked figure, not Kael, but a presence, formless, its essence tied to the Heart's light, pulsing in the floor's runes.
"Adrian!" Lira shouted, her dagger drawn, but the presence's magic flared, a storm that pinned them, the runes blazing. "The Heart's origin," it whispered, its voice a chorus, "is your blood's end."
The runes flashed, a portal opening—not to the void, but to a vault, its walls etched with Valorian sigils, a relic at its centre—not a mirror, but a heart, pulsing, alive, its light blinding. Kael stood there, his crimson cloak a storm, his crown flaring, his eyes locked on Adrian. "Nephew," he said, his voice a velvet blade, "welcome to your grave."
The portal's pull surged, dragging Adrian, Lira, and Eryn toward the vault. Guards screamed, Elara's spell fizzled, and Alaric's shout was lost in the chaos. Lira's dagger flashed, but Kael's hand deflected it, his magic a tide. "You're mine," Kael said, the heart relic pulsing, its light syncing with Adrian's blood.
Adrian's blood roared, the guardian's whisper faint but defiant: Fight. He staggered forward, his weak magic flaring, a spark against Kael's storm. The ring burned, its sigil a beacon, and he lunged, his bandaged hand reaching for the heart-relic, pain blinding. Kael's magic was relentless, a wave that knocked him back, but Adrian's blood was the Heart's key, his will its lock.
"Stop him!" Eryn shouted, her guards charging, but Kael's crown pulsed, runes flaring, the vault's walls trembling. "The Heart's mine," Kael said, his eyes gleaming. "Eldoria's mine."
Lira dove for Adrian, her arms shielding him, her voice raw. "You're not taking him!" Elara's spell hit, a desperate flare, but Kael's magic deflected it, the portal's pull intensifying. Adrian's hand found the journal's page, its map a desperate hope, and he tore it, runes fading, the heart-relic flickering.
Kael's scream was fury, his magic surging, but the guardian's hum surged, its voice a thunderclap: Traitor. Tendrils lashed from the vault, piercing Kael, his crown wavering. Adrian dove again, his hand closing around the heart-relic, pain blinding, his blood pouring into its runes, a spark against its might. The vault shook, Kael's form faltering, but he laughed, a chilling sound, and vanished into the portal, the heart-relic gone with him.
The vault collapsed, the portal closing, and Adrian fell, Lira's arms catching him, her tears hot against his cheek. "Stay with me," she sobbed, her voice breaking. Eryn's guards swarmed, dragging them back to the infirmary, while Elara knelt beside Adrian, her face grim. "He's alive," she said, her voice urgent, "but the Heart's origin is open."
Alaric's voice was steel, his eyes dark. "We seal the vault. Kael's not done."
Adrian's chest heaved, the Draven ring cool but alive, Kael's words—Welcome to your grave—a knife in his heart. His father's survival, his uncle's betrayal, and the Heart's origin were a battlefield, his blood the key. He scanned the infirmary, spotting a healer's satchel, its contents gleaming—a ring, not Draven's, but Valorian, etched with runes, glowing faintly like the Heart.
"What's that?" he asked, his voice hoarse, pointing at the ring.
Elara's face paled, her hands trembling as she lifted it. "A relic," she said, her voice low. "Found in the outpost. It's tied to the Heart, but… It's your father's. His blood, his bond."
Adrian's heart stopped, the Draven ring's pulse surging. His father's ring, a key to the Heart's truth—or a trap. "Put it on," he demanded, his voice raw.
Elara's hands shook, the ring flaring, runes glowing, and a voice—not the guardian's, not Kael's, but his father—whispered: Adrian, I'm here. The ring slid onto Adrian's finger, light spilling, a vision forming—his father, scarred but alive, in a void-prison, his eyes fierce. "Find me," he said, his voice breaking, "before Kael binds the Heart."
The vision flickered, a shadow moving—not Kael, but a woman, her face scarred, her cloak red, not crimson like Kael's, but blood-red, her eyes gleaming with the Heart's light. "Valorian," she whispered, her voice a blade, "your father's blood is mine."
The ring snapped shut, the vision gone, and the infirmary's walls trembled, a new hum rising—not the guardian's, but the Heart's, sharp and relentless: The blood calls. A portal opened, a sliver of darkness, and the woman's laughter echoed, chilling and final. Adrian's scream was silent, his strength failing, the Heart's power awake, his father alive but bound, and Eldoria's fate a knife's edge.