Chapter 19

# Chapter Nineteen: Into the Wastes

The Obsidian Wastes were worse than Kael had imagined—a landscape of perpetual twilight where the ground itself seemed to absorb light. Crystalline formations jutted from blackened earth, humming with corrupted energy. The sky was a bruised purple, stars visible even during the day, distorted and wrong.

The army advanced in three columns—ground forces led by King Aldric, air support commanded by Captain Sable, and the Dragon Clans providing strategic reserve. Kael's strike team had separated at the border, following Mara's guidance into the tunnel system.

"The entrance is just ahead," Mara whispered, leading them through a maze of razor-sharp crystal formations. "From there, it's a three-hour journey to the Black Spire's foundation."

The tunnel entrance was hidden behind a waterfall of liquid shadow—a phenomenon that made Kael's skin crawl. They passed through one by one, emerging into a network of ancient passages that predated Vexthorn's corruption.

"These were mining tunnels," Mara explained, lighting a crystal that glowed with faint green light. "Before the Shadow came, the Wastes were famous for star-crystal deposits."

"What happened?"

"Vexthorn happened. He discovered that corrupted star-crystals could amplify Shadow magic. He turned this place into a factory for darkness." She touched the tunnel wall, and Kael saw her expression soften with grief. "My grandfather worked these mines. He told stories of how beautiful it was."

They moved in silence, navigating by Mara's memory and Lyra's magical senses. The tunnels twisted and turned, sometimes opening into vast caverns where ancient mining equipment rusted, sometimes narrowing to passages where they had to crawl.

"Stop," Lyra commanded, raising her hand. "Something ahead."

They froze, listening. At first, Kael heard nothing. Then—footsteps. Multiple sets, approaching from a side tunnel.

"Patrol," Mara breathed. "Shadow-touched. They can see in total darkness."

"Can we avoid them?"

"Not without backtracking an hour."

Kael made a decision. "We take them out. Quickly, quietly. No alarms."

They set an ambush, using the tunnel's curves for cover. The patrol—six figures in tattered armor, their eyes glowing with inner shadow—walked right into it.

Kael struck first, the Starblade taking two before they could react. Lyra's magic silenced a third. Mara and the other two team members handled the rest.

It was over in seconds, but Kael knew they'd been lucky. If even one had screamed...

"Move faster," he ordered. "We don't know how often they check in."

They ran now, urgency driving them onward. The tunnels grew warmer, the air thick with sulfurous fumes. They were getting close.

Then they hit the barrier.

It stretched across the tunnel—a wall of solid shadow, pulsing with malevolent energy. Touching it would mean instant death, or worse, corruption.

"I can break it," Kael said, raising the Starblade. "But it will alert every guard in the area."

"We don't have a choice," Lyra said. "We're out of time."

Kael poured starlight into the blade, more than he'd ever channeled before. The weapon blazed with silver fire, blinding in the darkness.

"Stand back."

He struck the barrier. Light met shadow in an explosion that shook the entire tunnel system. The barrier shattered, but alarms began to wail—magical constructs that detected the intrusion.

"Run!"

They sprinted through the opening, into corridors that were clearly part of the Black Spire itself. These weren't ancient mines—they were modern construction, built by Vexthorn's slaves.

"The power source is three levels up," Mara gasped, pointing to a spiral staircase. "But they'll be waiting for us."

"Then we fight through." Kael's voice was grim. "No hesitation. No mercy."

They climbed, meeting resistance at every turn. Shadow soldiers, corrupted beasts, constructs of pure darkness. Kael cut through them all, the Starblade singing with unleashed power, but each battle slowed them down.

"Kael!" Lyra's voice, sharp with warning.

He turned to find their escape route blocked. A figure in black armor stood on the stairs above them—not a minion, but a commander. The figure removed its helmet, and Kael's blood ran cold.

Elara.

The former Grand Magus smiled, her eyes still glowing with the green fire of Shadow corruption. "Hello, Starborn. I wondered when you'd arrive."

"You should be dead." Kael raised the Starblade. "I killed you at the Academy."

"You killed my body. Vexthorn was kind enough to provide a new one." She spread her arms, showing the dark armor that seemed to be part of her flesh now. "I'm stronger than ever. And you... look tired."

She attacked without warning, Shadow magic lashing out like whips. Kael deflected, but the force of the blow drove him back down the stairs.

"Go!" he shouted to the others. "I'll hold her! Get to the power source!"

"Kael—"

"That's an order!"

Lyra's face twisted with conflict, but she obeyed, leading Mara and the others upward. Elara let them pass, her attention fixed on Kael.

"Chivalrous to the end. Sending your friends to safety while you face death alone."

"I'm not dying today."

"No?" Elara laughed. "You really don't understand, do you? You're not special, Kael. You're not chosen by destiny. You're just a boy who got lucky, who found a power he doesn't understand, who thinks that makes him a hero."

"I never claimed to be a hero."

"But you act like one. Sacrificing yourself for others. Leading from the front. It's so... predictable." She circled him, predatory. "Heroes die, Kael. That's what makes them heroes. Villains survive."

"Then I'd rather die a hero."

He attacked, starlight blazing. Their battle echoed through the Spire, two opposing forces colliding with fury that shook stone.

Elara was stronger than before—faster, more skilled, her Shadow magic enhanced by whatever dark transformation Vexthorn had wrought. But Kael had grown too. He'd trained with dragons, fought alongside pirates, led armies into battle.

They were evenly matched.

The battle raged for what felt like hours. Kael took wounds—burns from Shadow magic, cuts from her blade, impacts that cracked ribs. But he kept fighting, kept pushing, kept believing.

"Why won't you fall?" Elara screamed, frustration breaking through her composure. "You're just a boy! A nothing from nowhere!"

"I'm the Starborn," Kael panted, blood streaming from a dozen wounds. "And I don't give up."

He found an opening—a moment of overextension, a split second of vulnerability. He took it, driving the Starblade through her chest.

Shadow magic exploded outward, dissipating into the air. Elara stared at him, surprise and rage warring in her corrupted eyes.

"This... isn't... over," she gasped.

"It is for you."

He twisted the blade. She screamed, then dissolved into shadow that faded into nothing.

Kael collapsed, exhausted beyond measure. Every part of him hurt. But he couldn't rest—Lyra and the others needed him.

He forced himself to stand, to climb, to continue.

The power source awaited.

And the fate of Aetheria hung in the balance.