Chapter 8: Shards of Deception

I can’t be certain how many days I’ve trudged through these treacherous lands—three? Four? More? The Glass Wastes defy the passage of time, twisting day into a perpetual, ash-choked haze. Whenever I pause to catch my breath, I notice the horizon never seems to shift; jagged crystalline spires loom like fangs in every direction. My provisions dwindle, but I barely notice hunger or thirst. Some dark influence—my ward or the creeping corruption—is dulling those mortal needs.

Only the throbbing ache in my arm remains constant. The sigil I carved there grows weaker by the hour, each crack in the lines allowing the corruption to slither a little farther. I press a trembling hand to it whenever I can, murmuring Lyra’s name, but the pendant remains silent. No answer, no comforting presence. It’s just me and this desolate expanse of broken glass.

“Lyra… ” I whisper, forcing each word past my dry lips. “Don’t abandon me now… please.”

At first, I think I’m only exhausted. The landscape looks the same—burned-out dunes, glass pillars, swirling ash overhead. But then I begin noticing subtle inconsistencies: a spire that appeared on my left is suddenly on my right; a chunk of shattered crystal I just passed is somehow in front of me again. My footprints in the ash vanish the moment I turn around.

Then come the phantom voices—snatches of laughter, half-remembered words from a life I barely recall. I see flickers of movement at the corners of my vision: silhouettes dancing just out of reach. Whenever I spin toward them, they melt into the spires, leaving me feeling even more isolated.

My mind reels. Am I going in circles? Is this Kael’s doing? A gnawing anxiety grips my chest, each breath growing tighter. The illusions ramp up, swirling around me like a living nightmare. One moment, I see a distant tower—wind-scorched and half-collapsed—beckoning me forward. The next, it’s gone, replaced by an endless sea of glass shards reflecting my own confused face back at me.

My pulse quickens with each step, the ward on my arm flickering with a sickly light. At times, I feel my feet sinking into thick mud, though no mud exists in these wastes. Gusts of ashen wind transform into whispered conversations. A thousand voices overlap, some speaking nonsense, others calling me by name.

“Eldrin… Eldrin… come with us…” they hiss. I shake my head, blinking sweat and dust from my eyes. It can’t be real. But the illusions feel more substantial by the second, as though the Glass Wastes themselves are conspiring to claim me.

“Damn it, Kael… if this is you, show yourself!” I snarl, raising my staff at the emptiness around me. “I’m no puppet to be toyed with.”

All the while, a persistent sense of being watched digs at me. Every shard of glass might house unseen eyes. Every swirl of ash might be an intruder’s cloak. The tension ratchets tighter, stealing my breath.

My corrupted arm burns. The black veins writhe beneath the ward, pressing against it. They want out. A voice slithers through my thoughts, cold and enticing:

“Free us, and together we can destroy this… and rule.”

A trembling breath escapes me. I want to ignore it, but the illusions are relentless, my path uncertain. For one traitorous heartbeat, letting the corruption loose seems like an escape from this endless spiral. But I grit my teeth, remembering the abomination I faced—what the dagger’s hunger can do to a living soul. No. I won’t become that.

Determined to break free of this labyrinth, I slam my staff into the ground. The crystal at its tip flares with violet light, scorching the illusions around me. It crackles across the glassy dunes in twisting tendrils of arcane energy. For an instant, the illusions flicker, and I see the nightmarish distortion that’s been corralling me in circles. Shadows contort, revealing a shimmering bubble of warped reality encasing me.

“Ah, Eldrin... even after a thousand years, you still burn like a dying star—bright, desperate, and so, so unaware of what orbits you.”

The voice resonates through the air, velvety and confident. My staff vibrates in my grip, the surge of magic rippling out in waves. I brace myself, teeth clenched, as the illusions fracture and peel away like old paint. The Glass Wastes return to their stark, unfiltered reality: a barren wasteland of jagged spires and swirling dust.

But directly before me, in the epicenter of these distorted visions, stands a small, hunched figure—a woman, her skin mottled and partially rotted, limbs twisted with decay. She’s barely taller than my shoulder, her face a skeletal mask. Despite her horrific appearance, I sense immense magical power crackling around her.

Her sunken eyes lock onto mine, and a smile twists her cracked lips. “It’s been so long,” she murmurs, voice unsettlingly calm. “You still shine so brightly in these shadows, Eldrin.”

A surge of energy flares around her, and I recoil, expecting an attack. Instead, I watch in shock as her rotted flesh ripples, shifting like melting wax. Within a heartbeat, the decayed husk vanishes, replaced by a strikingly beautiful woman with flawless skin and shining hair. Her robes billow in the ash-laden wind, pristine and draped as if she’s stepped straight out of some half-forgotten court.

She glances down at her hands, flexing slender fingers as if testing the new shape. Then she looks at me, a predatory glint in her gaze.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she purrs, running a hand through her lustrous hair. “You know we come in many guises. I simply prefer a more pleasant form.”

My staff remains alight with residual magic, the violet energy dancing around my fingers. The ward on my arm stings—perhaps in warning, or maybe from the strain of holding back the corruption’s frantic attempts to escape.

Despite her serene smile, I sense an undercurrent of danger in every movement she makes. Her eyes track the black veins creeping up my wrist. “You’ve come far,” she says softly, “but we both know you won’t last forever. Not with that festering wound. Kael saw your potential long ago—he still admires it, you know. Even if you did… betray him.”

Her words slice through me, stirring half-buried memories: Kael and I were once allies bound by a mission to save this broken realm. But his obsession with Void Glass, the lines he was willing to cross… My stomach twists.

“Kael admired many things,” I say hoarsely, “until he twisted them to serve his ambition. I won’t be his pawn.”

She laughs, a sound like tinkling glass. “So serious, Eldrin.” With a graceful gesture, she conjures a swirl of ash that rises around her. “This illusions were meant to test you, to see if you were still the same reckless mage. It appears you’re as stubborn as ever.”

I dig my nails into the staff, ignoring the dull ache in my legs and the burning in my arm. Is she here to kill me, or does Kael have some other use in mind? The desire to question her wrestles with the urge to attack first.

She must sense my inner conflict because a delicate smile curves her perfect lips. “I've been watching you. You’ve uncovered more secrets than Kael anticipated, I’ll wager. The Weeping Sage… the flute… even the Citadel.” Her voice drops, almost sympathetic. “You should turn back, Eldrin. If you press on, you’ll only hasten your downfall. Kael is but a storm on the horizon, Eldrin. You? You could be eternal. Why chain yourself to old grudges when you could have the cosmos at your fingertips?”

The wind roars, carrying her words away into the swirling ash. My heart hammers. A part of me wants to shout at her, to demand she lift the illusions so I can leave, or to ask what she knows of my past. But I hold my tongue, sensing that any outburst might spark a confrontation I’m not ready for.

“I’ve given up too much to turn back now,” I say through gritted teeth. “If Kael is the storm, then let him rage. I’ll find a way to weather it—or die trying.”

The world still feels off-balance from the illusions. Grit scrapes my cheeks as I struggle to steady my breath. The transformed woman stands there, radiant and uncanny, waiting. Her calm demeanor feels more menacing than any blade could.

I glance again at my staff’s flickering light, then back to her. The corruption in my arm thrashes, seemingly enraged by her presence—or enticed by it. My ward is weakening, and if I don’t act soon, it may not hold. Do I fight her, question her, or seize the moment to flee?

She inclines her head, a challenge in her bright eyes. “Decisions, decisions… But we both know what you truly crave, don’t we? Not honor. Not revenge. Not even answers. No, my dear Eldrin—you seek release. Let go, and I’ll show you pleasure beyond power, beyond memory, beyond time itself.”

Her words coil around me, thick with possibility and dread. The illusions may have lifted, but I’m far from free. If she’s truly one of Kael’s minions—someone who knows me, who calls me by name—then every step I take from here on out is fraught with peril.

I tighten my grip on my staff, refusing to lower my gaze. I am Eldrin, I remind myself. And I will not yield.