Ren studied him closely. "You still have not answered who you are."

The man regarded him for a moment, then inclined his head slightly. "I am Kaelen Varis, guardian of Veron's outer gate. It is my task to watch those who seek entry, to judge whether they leave this place alive or die among its teeth. You have done enough for today. The land has tested you. The real trial will come soon, and you must step into it with more than raw endurance."

The glow of molten rivers falling behind them. The air grew cooler, the oppressive hum of the land less suffocating with each step, yet the weight of the basin's shadow followed Ren like a second presence.

At the edge of the cliffs, where the stone opened into a path that wound back toward distant plains, Kaelen paused. He rested his hand lightly on the rock and looked out at the horizon.

"When it wakes, nothing on this continent will remain untouched."

The wind shifted. The path forward darkened. Ren's steps faltered for the first time.

The calamity had not come. Yet its shadow had already reached him.

Ren steadied his breath, forcing his legs to move again. Kaelen's pace never slowed, his stride steady, purposeful, as though the land itself bent to clear his way.

After some time, Ren broke the silence. "You speak of patience, but why guard a place that cannot be stopped? What do you gain from standing here for centuries, watching others fall?"

Kaelen did not turn. "You think in victories and defeats. That is the mind of someone who has not seen what lies beneath. A calamity is not something to stop. It is something to endure. My role is not to win, but to guide those who might survive long enough to shape the outcome."

Ren's voice was low, sharp against the quiet. "So you wait like a vulture. Choosing who deserves to live and who should be left to die."

Kaelen's lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it. "If I chose, you would not be here. The land itself does the choosing. I only witness the result. You walked into its heart and walked back alive. That alone makes you worth watching."

Ren frowned. "Worth watching is not the same as worth trusting."

At this, Kaelen stopped. He turned his head just enough for his silver-streaked hair to catch the faint light, his gaze falling squarely on Ren. "You should not trust me. In time, you will see why. But understand this, dark one. Every calamity that rises hungers for a vessel. If you stumble, if you hesitate, it will not simply destroy you. It will wear your flesh and voice while the world burns through your name."

The words pressed like a weight against Ren's chest. His shadows writhed, uneasy, as though they understood the truth more deeply than his mind wanted to.

Ren let out a quiet breath. "And if he does not stumble?"

Kaelen turned back toward the path. "Then perhaps the month I promised him will matter. Perhaps he will live to stand where few have stood and see the calamity fall by his hand."

The city finally appeared on the horizon, its spires faint against the dying light, built on stone that seemed to resist the land's trembling. Smoke curled lazily from its walls, not of destruction but of forges burning deep within.

Kaelen raised his hand, pointing toward it. "Verathane. The city that stands closest to the gate. It survives because the calamity has not yet woken. Within its walls, you will find those who prepare for the storm, and those who waste their last days pretending it will never come. Choose carefully who you keep near. When the earth splits, allies weigh more than weapons."

Ren's eyes narrowed, fixed on the distant city. "And you will be there, watching."

Kaelen's faint smile returned, unreadable beneath the shadow of his gaze. "Always."

The wind shifted once more, carrying with it a low rumble from the basin far behind. Though miles away, it echoed like a heartbeat, slow and certain. The ground beneath them was quiet for now, but the shadow of what waited had already begun to grow.

★★★

The city drew closer, its outer walls towering higher than Ren expected. Dark stone lined with glowing veins of ore ran through the fortifications, pulsing faintly as if alive. The gates stood half open, guarded not by soldiers but by sentinels formed of rock and steel, their hollow eyes burning faint red.

Ren slowed as the figures came into view, but Kaelen did not. The guardian passed between them without pause, and the constructs stepped aside, recognizing him without word or signal. Ren followed, his own shadows twitching uneasily as the air thickened, heavy with the residue of countless enchantments.

Inside, Verathane was not silent like the forbidden land. Streets spread outward in winding arcs, lined with stone houses carved into the cliffs themselves. Towers rose above, their tops crowned with crystals that refracted sunlight into pale bands that cut across the city. People filled the roads, carrying crates, hauling water, leading beasts with strange, plated hides. The noise of life was sharp and constant, yet beneath it lingered a hum like a restrained growl.

Nyxa's voice curled in Ren's mind, sly but softened by curiosity. "Not the kind of city you expected, is it? Look at them, clinging so close to the heart of a wound that could swallow them whole. Courage or stupidity, I cannot decide."

Ren's eyes shifted from the people to the crystals burning above. "Maybe both."

Kaelen led him through the winding streets, his presence enough to part crowds without word. Some bowed their heads as he passed. Others looked away, as though his shadow was too heavy to meet. Ren noticed the way their gazes slid toward him as well, lingering not with respect but with unease.

"You feel it," Nyxa whispered. "They can sense what you are. They may not know the word for it, but they feel the stain of your shadows. You are not one of them, and you never will be."

Ren kept his face impassive, though his fists tightened briefly at his side.

At last Kaelen stopped before a hall carved directly into the cliff wall. The doors were vast, lined with sigils that shimmered faintly when he touched them. They opened without sound, revealing a chamber filled with maps and long tables, the air alive with the smell of ink, parchment, and metal oil.

"This is the place where those who prepare gather," Kaelen said, gesturing toward the room. "Merchants, hunters, scholars, all who know what comes and wish to bargain with time. Here you will find answers and training, if you can earn either. But know this, Ren. They will not welcome you easily. The land may have chosen you, but people are slower to listen."

Nyxa's laugh stirred in his thoughts, sharp but amused. "He means they will fear you. I like this city already."

Ren ignored her and studied Kaelen. "And you? What will you be doing while I fight for a place among them?"

Kaelen's expression was unreadable, his gaze steady as stone. "I will be here. Watching. Guiding if needed. But do not expect me to shield you from their judgment. If you cannot stand against suspicion, how will you stand against a calamity?"

The weight of his words lingered as Ren stepped into the chamber. The doors closed behind him, sealing out the noise of the city. Maps stretched across the walls, marked with red lines tracing deep into the forbidden land, each ending where the parchment had burned through.

Nyxa whispered with a rare seriousness. "This is where your month begins. And when it ends, so will much else."

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