Chapter 16 – The Moon-Bound Guardian
Kellan woke just before dawn to a world of gray. A clammy fog clung to the pine trunks and coiled around his and Bramble's makeshift camp on the ridge. Everything was damp—the moss beneath him, the leather of his armor, even the bronze spear lying at his side beaded with moisture. He sat up slowly, muscles protesting the previous day's march. Nearby, Bramble lifted his head from between his paws, ears perked at his companion's stirring. In the diffused predawn light, the dog's silhouette was barely visible against the sea of mist that stretched out below.
For a moment, Kellan simply listened. The forest was unnaturally quiet. No dawn chorus of birds greeted them here—only the distant drip of condensation from leaves and an occasional rustle as the fog swirled. Beneath that silence lurked a tension that set the fine hairs on Kellan's arms on end. He remembered the howl from the night before, that bone-chilling, ethereal call that echoed through the fog as if the mist itself had given voice to some ancient hunger. And he remembered the silhouette he'd seen under the moonlight: a colossal wolf shape standing atop a broken obelisk across the valley, wreathed in silver luminescence. The final Guardian of this Lexicon Node was out there, watching. Waiting.
Kellan ran a gloved hand over his face, wiping away dew and the last vestiges of sleep. His heart thumped steadily, a mix of apprehension and resolve. This was it—the last Tier-1 Node. "One more key," he murmured under his breath, feeling the weight of the words. His breath came out as a faint cloud in the chill morning air. Around his neck, hidden under his tunic, three small stone pendants hung on a sinew cord. Two were faintly warm to the touch—the keys from the previous Nodes. The third hung cold and inert, awaiting whatever he would claim today. He clenched them in his fist briefly. All their struggles over the past weeks had led to this point; one last trial before the promised ascent to the next stage of this strange Dyson-sphere world.
A wet nose nudged his elbow. Bramble pressed against his side, the dog's tail giving a single hopeful wag. Through their psychic link—a bond the system called Party-Link—Kellan felt a gentle pulse of concern and encouragement. "I'm alright," he reassured softly, scratching behind Bramble's ears. The big shepherd mix huffed quietly, then turned his head downhill, staring into the fog as if he could pierce its secrets. Kellan could sense Bramble's eagerness to get moving, tinged with caution. Neither of them liked being so exposed on this ridge, even with a night of rest. Not when a spectral Alpha Wolf prowled somewhere in the mists below.
He rose to a crouch and began packing their camp. There wasn't much—a waxed cloth groundsheet, some dried meat strips, a waterskin, and a bundle of tools. While Kellan worked, Bramble trotted to the treeline and back, nose low to the ground. Each time he returned, he nudged Kellan and then looked pointedly into the fog, as if to say we should go.
"Soon, buddy," Kellan said in a hushed tone. He strapped his oak buckler to his left forearm, feeling the faint tingle of the shock-resistance runes they had painstakingly etched into it at their base. The memory steadied him: hours spent in warm lamplight carving tiny symbols, Bramble watching intently with head on paws. That buckler had held against a lesser lightning beast once; it would hold again today if needed. He only hoped the enchantment would be enough against ghostly fangs.
Next he checked the bronze-tipped javelins in his quiver and the crossbow slung across his back. The crossbow was a new addition, forged from iron and wood weeks ago—its mechanism a product of long evenings of trial and error. It had served him well against the treant guardian at Node Two. Now he carried a half dozen quarrels for it, each tipped with hand-filed bronze points. Reliable, deadly, but slow to reload. He might get one shot off when the time came, two at best. After that, it would be tooth and claw—bronze against spirit.
Finally, Kellan hefted his primary weapon: the spear. The bronze leaf-shaped blade was polished even in gloom, and along its haft faint lines of copper inlay formed branching patterns like frozen lightning. It was the first weapon he had enchanted, imbuing it with the essence of a storm using a carefully prepared core. In previous tests, a thrust from this spear could discharge a crackling bolt of electricity that danced between targets. He remembered how a sounder of boar had scattered when he'd tested it on one of them—the bolt stunning half the herd at once. It took almost all the charge the core's enchantment could muster, but it worked. The spear's name glowed in his HUD when he focused—a small bit of system flavor: Stormpiercer, Tier I (Lightning-etched). Kellan spun it once in hand, the weight familiar and reassuring.
Bramble was staring at him now, one paw raised, tail straight and ears forward: the signal for an unknown scent or presence. Kellan tensed and quickly knelt beside the dog, peering into the shifting haze beyond their little rise. "What is it?" he whispered. The link carried Bramble's feelings—wariness, determination—and an impulse to move, to follow. Bramble glanced up at Kellan, then back to the fog, and began to pad downhill into the thick white blanket, nosing aside fern fronds heavy with dew.
It was time.
Kellan slung his pack on and moved after Bramble, descending from the ridge into the fog-cloaked forest valley where the Node lay hidden. Almost immediately, a clammy cold enveloped him. The mists were so dense he could see only a few yards ahead. Trees loomed suddenly out of the gray then vanished ghost-like as he passed. Within minutes, his hair and beard were slick with moisture, droplets trickling down his neck. He took the lead, motioning Bramble to stay close. This fog felt unnatural—too still, too heavy. Even sound seemed dampened; their footfalls on the leaf-littered ground were muffled, and the usual forest sounds were absent. No birdcalls, no chitter of squirrels. Only the drip-drip of water and the thud of his own heart in his ears.
As they pressed deeper, Kellan became aware of a subtle strain creeping into his body. His legs felt leaden, as though each step through the swirling vapor demanded more effort than the last. His breathing grew labored, and a sheen of sweat formed under his tunic despite the chill. He recognized the symptoms: the fog itself was sapping his stamina. It reminded him of the stagnant air inside a certain cave tunnel he'd explored weeks ago, which had left him similarly fatigued until he'd escaped. But this was an open forest—whatever force lay over this region, it was actively working to wear them down before they even reached the Node.
Kellan paused beside a mossy boulder, catching his breath and pulling out a strip of dried venison from his belt pouch. He chewed slowly, focusing on the rich, smoky flavor to center himself. The nourishment sent a faint wave of warmth through him; in his mind's eye, he could almost see a few brown sigils drifting from the meat to absorb into his body—an effect of the system's peculiar way of manifesting energy from food. It wasn't much, but every bit of stamina would count. He offered a piece to Bramble. The dog hesitated—ever alert—but at Kellan's soft whistle, he returned to quickly gulp down the meat.
They resumed their cautious advance, but Kellan knew they needed more than dried rations to counteract this fog's drain. "Bramble," he whispered, gesturing for the dog's attention. He tapped two fingers to the earth and closed his eyes briefly, the signal for sense. Over the past weeks, they had discovered that Bramble possessed a remarkable sensitivity to core energy in the environment—especially after the strange incident with the buried cores and the glowing roots around their base. The dog had literally planted a couple of unrefined cores in the soil after watching Kellan work with a growth potion one day. To Kellan's astonishment, those cores had dissolved and spread a network of faintly luminescent roots around their camp, creating something of an early warning system. Ever since, Bramble occasionally seemed to listen to the ground, picking up vibrations or energies beyond human perception.
Now, as Kellan gave the signal, Bramble pressed his chest to the ground, ears flattened. The mottled brown dog closed his eyes, and Kellan watched as Bramble's consciousness reached outward through the damp earth. Kellan couldn't sense exactly what Bramble did, but through their link he felt a series of pulsing impressions—a rhythm, like distant heartbeats or echoes in the soil. Bramble's ears twitched. After a long moment, the dog opened his eyes and looked to the right, where the fog appeared somewhat lighter between the tree boles. He stood and began to trot that way, pausing to make sure Kellan followed.
They advanced in this manner for a time: Kellan moving carefully from tree to tree, spear at the ready, while Bramble occasionally paused to sense and adjust their course. The fog lay thicker in some pockets, nearly blinding, but the dog would avoid those, picking paths where the air seemed marginally clearer. More than once, Kellan spotted shapes in the mist that set his nerves on edge—a stump that looked like a crouching figure, or twisted branches that resembled looming antlers. Each time, a step closer revealed the mundane truth, and he exhaled slowly.
Despite Bramble's guidance, the journey felt disorienting. The forest floor dipped and rose unpredictably. Once, Kellan realized they were moving in a circle around a particularly dense thicket of briars when he recognized a fallen log they had passed minutes before. The fog played tricks on distance and direction, and without the sun visible it was nearly impossible to tell time. His legs grew more fatigued, a creeping burn building in his thighs and calves. How large is this maze? he wondered, teeth gritted. The Node couldn't be much further; according to the coordinates he'd memorized from the Lexicon map, the central ruin that housed the Node was only a couple of kilometers from their ridge campsite. Yet it felt like they'd been walking twice that.
He was about to call a brief halt when Bramble suddenly froze, head cocked to one side. A low growl rumbled in the dog's throat. Kellan went still, tightening his grip on Stormpiercer's shaft. The fog eddied around them in patient swirls. At first, he heard nothing. Then, somewhere to their left, a twig snapped.
Kellan sank into a defensive stance, back to a broad oak tree. Bramble retreated a few steps to press against Kellan's calf, the dog's hackles rising. From the gray void ahead came a soft padding of paws on wet leaves. One pair…no, several. And a whispering sound, like shallow breathing, or dry leaves skittering over stone.
A shape coalesced in the haze—a lupine form stepping silently between two birch trunks about ten paces ahead. Its eyes glowed a sickly pale green. Kellan's stomach clenched at the sight. The creature was unmistakably a wolf, but its body was semi-transparent, a smoke-like apparition of ashen fur and void-black gaps. Its lips peeled back in a silent snarl, revealing fangs that dripped with mist. Behind it, another pair of ghostly eyes flickered, and another. In moments, three spectral wolves emerged into hazy view, fanning out to block the path.
Bramble growled louder, and Kellan felt the dog's uncertainty and protective fury through the link. These weren't living animals; they carried no scent, made no true sound beyond the eerie whisper of their movement. Wolf "echoes" was the term that leapt to Kellan's mind. Perhaps conjured phantoms of the Alpha, meant to guard the approach.
Kellan raised his spear, the bronze head catching a glint of diffused white light. "Steady," he murmured, uncertain whether he was instructing Bramble or himself. The largest of the wolf-echoes fixed its luminescent eyes on the pair and opened its jaws in a soundless howl. Though no noise reached Kellan's ears, he felt something—a vibration in his chest, a sudden wave of cold dread washing over his mind. For an instant, he wanted to turn and run, to flee this deathly silent threat. Beside him, Bramble let out a sharp bark, breaking the spell. The link flared with Bramble's fierce insistence: Fight!
The wolves came on. They moved like blurred shadows, feet never seeming to fully touch the ground. The first lunged straight toward Kellan, covering the distance with unnatural speed, while the other two veered to flank from left and right. Kellan braced and thrust at the one coming head-on. His spear tip met only mist—passing through the creature's neck as if through smoke. The wolf-echo's form wavered, momentarily split by the weapon, but then re-coalesced, unharmed, as it sprang past the spear's reach. Kellan had just a heartbeat to twist aside. The phantom wolf's body brushed against him, cold as a plunge into an icy stream. He bit back a cry as numbness spread up his left arm where a phantom claw grazed his bicep. Though the claws left no physical wound on his sleeve, Kellan felt a burning sting beneath the skin, as if the flesh itself remembered an injury.
Bramble intercepted the wolf coming from the left. With a courageous snarl, the dog launched himself at the specter, snapping at its translucent legs. His jaws met resistance—Bramble yelped as if he'd bitten into a thicket of thorns rather than empty air. Still, his pounce knocked that wolf-echo off its course, delaying its attack. The third wolf-echo circled wide to Kellan's right, aiming to get behind them.
"They're not fully corporeal," Kellan hissed between gritted teeth. His spear thrust had largely passed through the ghostly flesh. Perhaps normal attacks wouldn't hurt these echoes much—but the slight tug he'd felt on his spear told him they weren't invulnerable either. There was substance in them, somewhere between physical and spirit, that might be fought.
The wolf-echo that slipped past him was turning for another charge. Kellan swiftly unslung the crossbow from his shoulder and raised it, finger already tensing on the trigger. He had pre-cranked it; now he aimed at the largest wolf-echo, which had wheeled around for a second rush. The creature's eyes glowed brighter as it bounded toward him in eerie silence. Kellan exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The crossbow thumped, the quarrel slicing through fog. In the muffled world of the mist, the snap of the bowstring sounded flat and distant.
The bolt struck true—or so it appeared. One moment the projectile was flying at the wolf's center of mass, the next the phantom beast dissipated around it. The quarrel sailed through harmlessly, clattering into the underbrush beyond. A miss? No—the wolf had dematerialized briefly to avoid the solid bolt, then reformed without slowing its charge. Kellan's eyes widened and he instinctively raised his buckler. A weight hit him like a battering ram as the lead wolf-echo slammed into the shield. Kellan staggered back, boots skidding on wet leaves. Though his shield blocked those ethereal fangs from his face, the impact was akin to being struck by a heavy sack of sand—solid for an instant, then melting away. He felt the shock-resist runes flare warm on his forearm as they mitigated some numbing effect that seeped through the bronze-banded wood.
Snarling, the ghost wolf snapped again, jaws elongating unnaturally to reach around the shield's edge. Kellan pivoted and slammed his buckler sideways into the creature's muzzle. The wolf's head dissipated into tendrils of fog from the blow, its body momentarily destabilized. Kellan took that opening to retreat a step and swing his spear in a broad horizontal arc. The sweep caught the phantom as it was reforming, tearing through its midsection. This time, resistance—like thrusting through thick mud. The wolf-echo's form rippled around the bronze blade, and a rippling howl of static rang in Kellan's mind if not his ears. The creature recoiled, missing a chunk of its torso where the spear had passed. Its hindquarters faded, and the front half dragged itself back, glowing eyes never leaving Kellan. The specter was not dead, but it was diminished.
Before Kellan could press that advantage, Bramble's warning bark made him spin. The wolf-echo Bramble had tackled was on its feet again and lunging for Kellan's flank. Bramble charged after it, teeth bared. He clamped his jaws onto the phantom's hindleg and shook violently, as if worrying a rabbit. The wolf-echo's form distorted under the assault. Bramble's teeth found purchase this time—perhaps because Kellan's spear strike had taught them these things could be fought, could be hurt. The dog's aggressive intervention yanked the wolf off course; instead of leaping at Kellan's side, it crashed into the ground and dissipated into a swirl of mist that snaked around Bramble's legs.
The third wolf-echo finally made its move, springing at Kellan from behind. He sensed it just in time—a prickle on the back of his neck. Kellan spun on his heel and thrust the butt of his spear backward. The wooden shaft jammed into the charging phantom's maw like a stave propping open jaws of smoke. Translucent fangs snapped inches from Kellan's shoulder as the ghost wolf tried to bite down on the spear haft. With a grunt, Kellan wrenched the spear, tossing the insubstantial beast aside. It landed without sound, body dispersing into a low cloud before reforming a few yards away.
He risked a quick glance around. The wolves were regrouping, circling in that predatory way to find an opening. The big one he had wounded was oozing threads of mist from its torn midsection; it hung back, no longer as swift. The other two flanked wide. Kellan's mind raced. Pure physical attacks were inefficient—these things barely had form. But maybe… He tightened his grip on Stormpiercer. The spear's enchantment thrummed faintly, awaiting his command to unleash the stored lightning. The lightning dispersed the boars, he recalled. What might it do to creatures made of fog?
It was a risk. The spear's magic had perhaps one potent discharge left before needing a recharge from a core. He had meant to save it for the Alpha. But if these echoes wore them down or injured them now, they might not survive to face the Alpha at all. Through the link, he felt Bramble's ragged breath and growing fatigue as the dog danced around to keep the wolves at bay. The fog's oppressive energy-drain had not relented either; each swing of Kellan's spear felt heavier than the last.
The wolves sensed something in his hesitation and surged as one. Kellan centered his stance and drew a deep breath, focusing his will into the spear. Symbols along Stormpiercer's haft lit up electric-blue. "Back!" he shouted, more to Bramble than the ghosts. Bramble, recognizing the cue, darted away from the nearest phantom just as Kellan slammed the spear point into the earth at his feet and channeled the enchantment with a wordless cry.
A flash of blinding blue-white light erupted from the tip, followed by a thunderclap that rolled through the muffled forest. Bolts of chain lightning arced outward, drawn to the moving targets. The clearing illuminated in a strobe of brilliance. One lightning tendril caught the closest wolf-echo square in the chest as it leapt. The specter exploded into a burst of vapor, shredded by the electrical surge. Another bolt connected with the wounded lead wolf, crawling over its smoky hide in crackling filaments. The creature let out a keening howl—a real sound this time, high and filled with agony—as it disintegrated into nothingness. The third bolt zig-zagged towards the last wolf-echo, catching its tail as it tried to escape. The ghost wolf didn't evaporate entirely, but what remained of it fled into the fog, a trailing wisp of its former shape.
Then it was quiet again, save for the ringing in Kellan's ears. The after-image of lightning seared his vision, and for an instant he thought he'd gone deaf from the sudden thunder. But slowly the sounds of his own panting breath and Bramble's whine cut through the silence. Kellan blinked away spots of light and saw his dog standing a few paces off, fur bristled and eyes wide. Bramble's flanks heaved with exertion, but he was unharmed. Kellan's heart swelled with relief and pride. "Good boy," he managed, voice trembling from the adrenaline crash. He extended a hand and Bramble trotted over, pressing his warm, solid body against Kellan's legs. Kellan knelt, one hand on the spear still stuck upright in the dirt, the other finding support on Bramble's back.
That lightning strike had taken a lot out of him. He felt lightheaded, knees weak. The system had clearly taken note of the feat—he noticed flickers of yellow light at the edges of his vision: little skill-gain motes winking out as quickly as they came. Perhaps his proficiency with enchanted weapons had just ticked up, or his coordination with Bramble. He didn't have the energy to pull up the logs right now to see exactly what improved. What mattered was that they were alive, and the immediate threat was gone.
A metallic tang laced the cold air—ionized particles from the lightning. The surrounding fog had recoiled from the blast, opening a sphere of clearer air around them about ten yards wide. Kellan realized they stood in what once was a small clearing. Scrubby grass and ferns lay flattened in a circular radius from the lightning's force. Some long-dead campfire stones lay scattered, cracked by the heat. He saw now, in the improved visibility, that weathered paving stones peeked out from under the moss and soil at his feet. This was part of an old path or courtyard, overgrown and hidden by time. His pulse quickened—this could be the outskirts of the Lexicon Node site.
As if in answer to that thought, a system alert gently chimed at the edge of his perception. He focused and faintly glowing letters materialized in the air before him, written in the runic script he had been painstakingly learning since Node One. He could read enough now to parse the message:
Proximity: Lexicon Node III – [Trial Imminent].
Kellan let out a breath of triumph. They were close. Bramble evidently saw something too—perhaps he caught the faint glow of the runes—for the dog barked softly and started forward, following what looked like the remnants of a flagstone path leading deeper into the fog. The mists were already beginning to creep back in, the sphere of clarity shrinking. With his spear's enchantment expended, the gloom and fatigue settled on Kellan again. He retrieved a small green core from the pouch on his belt—one they'd refined from healing herbs weeks ago. It glowed gently between his fingers with an emerald light. Whispering a quick prayer that this still worked, he crushed the core in his palm. A warm surge spread through his limbs as tiny green sparks danced over his skin, combating the deep tiredness. The ache in his legs and the sting in his arm from where the phantom had grazed him both faded to dull memory. Bramble eyed the sprinkle of green sparks and whined—some drifted to him too, easing the little nicks and strains he had accumulated. Kellan couldn't spare more healing resources without cause, but the single core was enough to revitalize them for now.
They pressed on down the ruined path. Gnarled tree roots had upheaved many of the stones, and patches of fog still clung between the trunks ahead, but Kellan could make out larger shapes now. Broken pillars of carved granite flanked the pathway in intervals. Each was etched with faded symbols—moons and stars interwoven with wolf motifs. One pillar bore the carved likeness of a wolf's head at its top, now lichen-covered and missing an eye. This was unmistakably the Node site, and its theme was clear: this place was dedicated to a moon-bound guardian, or perhaps an ancient wolf spirit.
The path opened into a clearing at the heart of the ruin. Kellan and Bramble stepped out of the treeline, and what he saw stole his breath for a moment. Even in dilapidation, the site was awe-inspiring. It appeared to be an old circular plaza, roughly fifty yards across, encircled by toppled columns and partially collapsed arches. At the center stood a low platform of stone, and rising from it was the obelisk he had glimpsed last night from afar. Now up close, Kellan saw that the obelisk was cracked nearly in half, the upper portion leaning precariously against a giant oak that had grown beside it over untold years. The obelisk's surface was engraved with the same strange runic script of the Lexicon and studded with small geometric recesses. A few of those recesses glinted faintly with colored light—perhaps cores or gemstones placed within. Though weathered and damaged, the obelisk still exuded an aura of latent power.
Yet what truly drew Kellan's gaze was the object before the obelisk, on the platform. A large circular stone dial lay horizontal on a pedestal, like an altar table or an enormous compass. Around its circumference were inlaid symbols of the moon in various phases—full, half, crescent, new—each corresponding to a cardinal direction. At the dial's center, a shallow bowl or depression was carved, about the size of a man's palm. This had to be the puzzle mechanism. It reminded Kellan of a moondial—like a sundial, but for tracking lunar cycles. He had encountered references to such things in old astronomy texts back in his former life, though he never expected to see one here.
He approached the dial cautiously, Bramble at his side, both of them alert for any sign of the Alpha Wolf. The spectral guardian was nowhere in sight at the moment. Possibly it would not appear until the puzzle was engaged or solved. Or, Kellan considered, perhaps it was already here, unseen in the fog, watching their every move. The thought made the back of his neck prickle.
The pedestal that held the moon-dial had an inscription around its base. Kellan knelt down to brush away grime and moss, tracing the carvings with his fingers. Some glyphs were chips of shapes he recognized: the Lexicon's language. He whispered the translation as he worked it out. "Only under the full gaze of the lone eye will the way be made plain." He repeated the phrase mentally, pondering it. Lone eye… likely meaning the single moon (or perhaps the wolf's eye? But moon fits better). Full gaze suggests the full moon, or the moon at its brightest point overhead—midnight when the moon is highest.
The dial likely needed to be activated or aligned with the full moon. Kellan glanced up at the sky, but the perpetual mist and daylight rendered it useless. If his reckoning was right, last night's moon had looked nearly full. Was tonight the full moon? It could be. The countdown timer in his HUD currently showed 8 days and roughly 8 hours left of the Tier's ten-day limit (a ghostly number that hovered in his vision until he dismissed it). That meant around eight days until the enforced world shift if they didn't finish earlier. But that was irrelevant now—they planned to finish today. More pertinent: Kellan mentally cycled the HUD to the local time readout. It was about mid-morning now; many hours until moonrise.
Would they have to wait until nightfall to solve this puzzle? Possibly, unless there was a way to simulate the moon. He looked again at the central bowl of the dial and noticed delicate lines etched radiating from it to each moon phase symbol. It resembled an orrery or a star chart. Perhaps something needed to be placed in that bowl—something to represent the moon or to capture moonlight.
Kellan felt a soft bump at his hand. Bramble had nosed into his palm one of the pouches at Kellan's belt. "What is it?" Kellan asked quietly. The dog sniffed at the pouch again—this one held their collection of spare cores. Kellan opened it and sifted through the contents: a couple of green shards (for healing), one red (for emergencies requiring strength bursts), and one polished core that shimmered with two distinct hues—white and yellow swirling together. The hybrid core from the lightning-hawk they had slain nights ago. They hadn't found a use for it yet. Why was Bramble interested in it now?
The dog pawed at the hybrid core gently, then looked at the dial. Kellan raised an eyebrow. Sometimes he wondered if Bramble understood more of these puzzles than he let on. Perhaps the link conveyed more of Kellan's own thought process to the dog, and Bramble was picking up on his line of reasoning. "You think this might be our key?" Kellan murmured, holding up the dual-colored core. In truth, it made a certain kind of sense. The previous Node's puzzle had required placing a Red and Blue core together to power it—representing aggression and creation in balance, which yielded the Enchant Forge blueprint. In this Node themed around the moon and advancement, perhaps a hybrid core was needed—white often signified advancement or synergy, and yellow knowledge or skill.
"A hybrid core at the moonlit hour," Kellan mused, recalling the outline of the Node clues he'd mentally assembled from scraps of translation so far. He suspected to unlock this final Node, the system wanted a demonstration of both understanding and appropriate resource use. Putting a rare hybrid core at risk signaled commitment. Doing so under specific timing signaled knowledge.
If indeed they had to wait for true moonlight, they'd need to occupy the intervening hours carefully. The fog maze had already drained a portion of their day and energy. They couldn't simply hunker down at the puzzle site without precaution—the Alpha Wolf was surely patrolling nearby, and it would likely strike if they let their guard down.
With that in mind, Kellan resolved to use the daylight for preparation. He rose from examining the dial and surveyed the clearing's perimeter. The remnants of walls and standing stones could be useful. A few large stone blocks lay scattered – parts of a fallen archway perhaps. There were also plenty of thick-trunked trees encircling the plaza, their roots breaking through old masonry. This place could be turned into an arena of their own design with some work.
"Alright, Bramble," he said, scratching the dog's head in a familiar gesture. "Looks like we have time to kill. Let's set the stage for our friend when he shows up." Bramble wagged his tail slowly, ears pricked – he didn't need details to understand Kellan's determined tone.
First, Kellan led Bramble in a careful sweep around the clearing, searching for any existing traps or hidden features. If this Node mirrored others, there could be trigger stones or environmental hazards. They found nothing overtly dangerous, but Bramble did sniff out several curious totems at the edge of the woods – small piles of stones marked with claw scratches and coated in a gray slime. Scent markers, perhaps left by the spectral wolves or the Alpha to delineate its territory. Bramble urinated defiantly on one, and Kellan couldn't help a grim smirk. We're here to stay, that gesture said.
Using a piece of charcoal from his pack, Kellan sketched a rough layout of the area on a flat piece of broken stone. He marked entrances between rubble, likely approach paths from the forest where a huge wolf might charge in. There were three such gaps in the natural ring of debris. If he were a cunning guardian beast, he might try to surprise intruders by circling around and attacking from behind one of those breaks.
Kellan's eyes fell on the bronze-weighted net he had painstakingly braided over the last week. It was coiled up at the bottom of his pack—a mesh of interlinked bronze wire and leather cord, with barbed hooks along the edges. This would be their trump card to physically restrain the Alpha long enough to strike a finishing blow. He pulled it out and tested its weight in his hands. Still intact, hooks sharp. They'd tested it once on a log trap near home; it had sheared branches off a falling tree when tensioned. It should hold a wolf… if they could get the wolf into it.
He enlisted Bramble's help to set the net up at the most likely breach point for an ambush. On the far side of the plaza stood two collapsed columns leaning together to form a rough arch—almost like a funnel opening from the dark woods beyond. It was perfect. Kellan rigged the net across the gap, camouflaging it with fronds and leaves to break up the unnatural lines of metal. He affixed one end of the net's rope to a sturdy trunk and ran the other end to a spot behind the dial platform, threading it through an old iron ring that might once have held a canopy or bell. This way, with a single strong pull he could hoist the net closed, ensnaring whatever stood between the columns. He left a small bundle of dried meat—a bait of sorts—on the path just beyond the net. It wasn't much, but any curious creature stepping in to sniff would be in for a surprise. If the Alpha charged straight at him from that direction, it would barrel right into the trap.
Next, he prepared the battlefield further. With Bramble standing guard, ears swiveling at every forest sound, Kellan collected fallen branches, rotting logs, and debris. He arranged these into two low barricades at other likely approach angles, both to guide the Alpha towards the netted path and to provide partial cover for him and Bramble. One pile he smeared with resin from a tree wound and the remainder of a tarry salve he carried—highly flammable stuff they'd used at Node Two to set the treant ablaze. He wasn't sure if a spectral wolf could burn, but a wall of fire could at least corral or distract it. He rigged a rudimentary fuse of twisted dry grass leading into that resin-soaked barricade, ready to ignite with a spark when needed.
All the while, the fog continued to ebb and flow around the plaza, never fully dispersing. The oppressive drain on stamina remained, but in this heart of the Node it felt slightly less malevolent, as if the Node's power pushed back just enough to let challengers prepare. Kellan was thankful for that mercy. Still, by the time the sun (concealed as it was behind gray skies) passed its zenith and began to descend, he felt exhaustion creeping in again. He and Bramble rested on the steps of the dais where the moondial waited, sharing a quick meal of hardtack and dried berries. Bramble munched on a strip of meat, eyes always on the tree line.
Kellan allowed himself a short respite, leaning against the cool stone and closing his eyes for a few minutes. His mind wandered as he half-dozed: to his early days in this world, when he and Bramble had first met and forged their unlikely alliance; to the nights huddled in their cave shelter, reading scratched journal notes by firelight; to the first Node they'd solved together, when they realized this world had a grand design they could begin to decipher. How far they had come. And now—one more test. He felt a flutter in his stomach that was not entirely fear. Some part of him, the scholar-soldier, was excited. A final puzzle under the full moon, a duel with a legendary guardian—these were the things of heroic sagas. If only any bards could witness it.
His thoughts drifted further, back to a memory long buried beneath survival's demands. A memory of him as a boy, lying on the roof of his childhood home on a summer night, staring up at a brilliant moon. His father had been beside him, pointing out constellations. "There's Orion's belt," his father had said, guiding Kellan's small finger to trace three stars in a row. "And there, the big moon tonight, see how bright? When you're lost, the moon can be your friend. It follows you home." He remembered laughing at that, young and carefree: "The moon isn't alive, Dad!" And his father had smiled, ruffling his hair. "Maybe not. But it listens. It's seen the path you need, even if you haven't yet."
Kellan opened his eyes, that fragment of the past settling in his heart. The path you need… The moon sees it. He stood and gazed at the dial once more. They would likely have to wait for the moon's guidance. The day waned as he and Bramble kept themselves busy with small tasks—sharpening a spare dagger, checking Bramble's fitted bronze "dog-plate" armor (a small piece of scaled bronze they'd fashioned to strap over the dog's shoulders for protection), and quietly discussing tactics as best one can with a dog. Kellan spoke aloud, partly for Bramble and partly to calm his own nerves: "If it goes south… if the traps don't hold, we fall back to that oak there." He pointed to the massive oak supporting the obelisk. "It's wide enough to put our backs against. I'll take spear lead, you harry the flanks. Watch for illusions. The big wolf might project more echoes like earlier, but maybe weaker ones since we're at the Node's core." Bramble chuffed in acknowledgement, as if he understood. In truth, through the link, Kellan felt a reassuring wave of loyalty. They were in this together, as always.
Eventually, dusk began to creep in. The already dim light in the forest turned murky and then gradually faded to true darkness. Kellan ignited a small covered lantern from his pack for them to see by, its glow carefully shielded so as not to advertise their presence too boldly. He climbed atop the dais next to the moondial to get a better vantage. Bramble patrolled quietly around the perimeter of the plaza, nose high as he sniffed the air.
Night fell fully. The fog continued to wreath the ground, but above, the cloud cover had finally begun to part. As Kellan looked up, he saw the blessed twinkling of stars—artificial constellations, perhaps, given their Dyson-sphere reality, but comforting nonetheless in their familiarity. And there, rising above the treetops to the east, was a silvery disk: the moon, nearly full, fighting through stray wisps of cloud. Its pale light kissed the clearing in patches where the canopy thinned. The ruins took on an otherworldly beauty in that glow, lichen on stone turning soft green and shadows dancing as the fog rolled.
Kellan hopped back down to inspect the moondial. The engraved moon phase symbols around the rim were faintly illuminated now. Each carving had a tiny crystal inset, and these crystals glowed with a pearly luminescence corresponding to the moon's current phase—one side of the dial showing bright (the full moon symbol blazing gently), the other dark. The dial was reacting to the moonlight. This was the sign he had been waiting for.
He called Bramble to his side and withdrew the hybrid core from its pouch. The white-yellow swirls inside the crystal pulsed, as if responding to the lunar energy in the air. At the same time, Kellan noticed that the obelisk's runes had begun to glimmer along its length. The Node was awakening.
With a steadying breath, Kellan placed the hybrid core into the central bowl of the dial. The fit was perfect; the core settled and began to glow brighter, casting dancing rays across the carved lunar calendar. Now, likely, they needed to align something or wait for a specific alignment. Kellan saw that the circular dial could rotate. Gently, he tried to turn the stone disk. It moved, albeit stubbornly, grinding with centuries of sediment. Bramble barked once, and Kellan paused. No, perhaps forcing it wasn't needed—maybe it would move on its own at the right time.
He recalled the inscription: "Only under the full gaze of the lone eye will the way be made plain." That suggested at the moment of full moon overhead, something would happen automatically, revealing the path or key.
They might have to simply hold this position until the moon reached its zenith—likely around midnight. A quick glance at his HUD's time estimation told him a couple of hours remained. It was going to be a long wait in potentially hostile darkness. Kellan resolved to stay vigilant and keep checking the surroundings. If the Alpha Wolf was going to attack preemptively, it would likely do so before they completed the puzzle—maybe trying to stop them or simply because nighttime was its domain.
Sure enough, as the minutes dragged on, Bramble began to growl softly at intervals, staring into the black tree line. Kellan felt it too—a prickling sensation, a certainty that they were being watched by malevolent eyes. Several times he thought he saw flickers of movement: a ripple in the fog that did not match the breeze, or a pair of faintly glowing green orbs between distant trunks. The Alpha was out there, stalking around the clearing, perhaps gauging their strength or waiting for the ideal moment to strike—likely when they were distracted by the puzzle or the moment of unlocking.
Rather than being unnerved, Kellan found his resolve hardening. If the Guardian thought to catch them off-guard, it would find them ready.
Midnight drew near. The moon climbed higher, approaching the apex of its arc across the sky. By now it was fully unveiled, a perfect silver coin flooding the clearing with pale radiance. Even the fog looked thinner and more ethereal under that glow, as if the moonlight was pushing back the ill magic of the maze. The hybrid core in the dial began to hum—a soft, musical note that sent vibrations through the stone pedestal. The etched lines on the dial ignited one by one with soft white light, forming a pattern of constellations and lunar cycles.
Kellan gently placed both hands on the edge of the dial, ready to act if needed. Bramble stood opposite him, on the other side of the pedestal, ears alert and teeth bared, splitting attention between the dial and the darkness beyond.
When the moon was almost directly overhead, a shaft of its light broke through the canopy and illuminated the center of the dial. The hybrid core caught that light and blazed like a tiny sun. The whole dial began to turn on its own now, grinding smoothly as ancient mechanisms engaged. The symbols rotated until the full moon icon on the rim aligned exactly with a marker on the pedestal. There was a resonant click, audible even over the quiet hum.
At that instant, the obelisk behind them flared to life. Runes glowed and a beam of silvery light shot from its broken tip, straight up into the sky like a beacon. The Node had been activated. Kellan's heart leapt—this was the confirmation. They'd solved the puzzle, and presumably unlocked the final key. He expected perhaps a reward or an interface prompt any second announcing Node completion.
But destiny had one more challenge.
From the forest came a sound that froze the blood in Kellan's veins: a howl, long and deafening, that began as a low rumble and rose to a keening wail. Unlike the mute echoes before, this was physical, thunderous. Leaves on the ground vibrated with the intensity of that cry. Bramble barked fiercely in answer, stepping forward to place himself between the howl and Kellan. From the corner of his eye, Kellan saw a shape materialize in the glow at the edge of the clearing—the same massive silhouette he had seen the night before, now emerging into view with terrifying clarity.
The Alpha Wolf stepped into the clearing, and for a heartbeat, Kellan understood why ancient peoples might have worshipped or feared such a creature as a god. It was larger than any wolf or predator Kellan had seen in this world or his old one—easily the size of a bear, its shoulders as tall as a man's chest. Its form was not wholly flesh nor wholly spirit; it looked as if a living dire wolf had been fused with moonlight and shadow. Silver fur shimmered and faded into tendrils of mist at the extremities. Its eyes were hollow pools of white flame. Through patches of its semi-translucent body, one could see the outline of ribs and a faint glow of a core pulsating deep within its chest like a second heart. Every step of its paws was silent, yet left a temporary print of frost on the grass.
The Alpha's lips peeled back into a snarl as it regarded Kellan and Bramble. A growl emanated, so deep it was felt more than heard. Kellan slowly drew his spear up and leveled it, though he knew brute force alone was unlikely to fell this foe. At his motion, the wolf's ghostly ears flicked and it lowered its head. Its gaze flickered to the moondial and obelisk, noticing, perhaps, that the Node had been triggered. The beast's snarl turned into something akin to a roar of fury and challenge. In that unearthly sound, Kellan almost imagined he could hear words or meaning: Interlopers. This is my domain.
For a brief moment, man, dog, and wolf remained still under the moon's eye, as if a tableau in a myth. Then the standoff broke—the Alpha Wolf launched forward, flowing over the ground with horrifying speed straight towards Kellan.
"Now!" Kellan shouted, springing into action. He and Bramble split in practiced form—Kellan rolling to his left off the dais, Bramble darting right—to avoid the initial charge. The Alpha's massive form smashed into the stone pedestal where Kellan had stood an eye-blink before, shattering a chunk of it. Stone fragments flew like shrapnel. The moondial was knocked askew, but the mechanism had done its job already. More importantly, the hybrid core dislodged and skittered across the dais, though still glowing. Kellan spared a quick thought— retrieve later, if alive.
The wolf recovered almost instantly from the miss, wheeling around with a snarl. Kellan realized with a start that the creature had substance—when it hit the stone, it hit it, not passed through. Perhaps during this final trial, the guardian was granted physical form to truly test challengers. If so, that was a blessing and a curse: it could be injured by physical means, but likewise could deal devastating real damage.
Bramble took to harassing the Alpha's flank, barking and feinting to draw its attention. The great wolf snapped at him, but Bramble danced away, not engaging too close. Good—he was playing the decoy as planned, leading the Alpha towards the trapped path where Kellan had set the net.
Kellan circled opposite Bramble, staying light on his feet. He could feel the thrum of adrenaline sharpen his senses; time seemed to slow as he tracked every movement of their foe. The Alpha lunged at Bramble, clearly annoyed by the nimble dog's provocation. Claws gouged the earth and frost rimed the grass where it stepped. Bramble juked to one side of the funnel between the leaning columns—exactly where Kellan hoped he would lead the beast.
"Over here!" Kellan shouted, jabbing his spear towards the wolf's hindquarters. The spear's tip sparked off the creature's silver fur, drawing a spray of ectoplasmic ichor that evaporated in mid-air. The wound was shallow, but it got the Alpha's attention. The monster whirled, now focused on Kellan again, lips drawn back to reveal fangs that gleamed like curved daggers.
Kellan backed up deliberately, drawing it further, step by step, toward the net's hidden span. Just a few more yards...
The Alpha crouched, muscles bunching. Kellan braced, heart pounding. It pounced.
In that split second, Kellan threw himself backward in a controlled fall, yanking hard on the rope concealed in his hand—the rope connected to the net's release. There was a whoosh and a metallic snap as the weighted net leapt from the ground and contracted mid-air. The timing was near perfect: the Alpha Wolf collided with Kellan in the same moment that the net closed around them both.
They hit the ground together in a tangle. Kellan felt the breath blasted from his lungs as half a ton of enraged wolf crashed onto his raised buckler and chest. But the net did its job: The bronze wires cinched around the Alpha's form, entangling its legs and torso. Hooks bit into spectral flesh, anchoring in place. The wolf was upon him, but it was thrashing in surprise and sudden restraint.
Bramble was there in an instant—though Kellan could barely see past the mass of fur and fury pinning him. The dog latched onto the wolf's hindleg, teeth sinking into something solid this time. The Alpha bellowed, a terrible mix of snarl and yelp as the hooks and biting dog caused it pain.
Kellan, half-dazed, realized he was intact—his buckler wedged in the wolf's jaws prevented those teeth from finding him. The shock-resistant runes flared again, absorbing a lot of the force and any supernatural effect of the bite, though the raw physical weight was still crushing. Every muscle in Kellan's body strained as he fought to keep the shield up under the wolf's pressing weight. Hot saliva (if one could call the eerie cold drool "hot") dripped onto his arm. With a grunt of effort, Kellan shoved upward, throwing the wolf's head back just enough to shift out from under its bulk. The net pulled tight, trussing the Alpha's forelimbs against its sides somewhat. It snapped and writhed, trying to tear itself free, but the more it fought, the more the barbs dug in.
Kellan rolled clear and scrambled to his feet, gasping. Now—now was the moment. The trap had succeeded, but only for a precious few seconds. Already the bronze mesh was creaking, strands beginning to fray where the wolf's spectral energy burned at them like acid. They had to finish this fast.
With a roar of determination, Kellan leveled Stormpiercer and charged. Bramble wisely darted away as he saw Kellan coming, releasing the wolf's leg. The Alpha reared, entangled but still menacing, and met Kellan's charge with open maw. Kellan drove the spear forward aiming for those burning eyes, for the skull beyond.
Inches from contact, the cunning beast did the unexpected—it twisted, offering not its head but the thick ruff of its neck to the strike. The spear plunged into fur and flesh there, sinking deep along the shoulder, but missing a killing blow to brain or heart. The wolf howled in pain, and its paw—still partly free within the slack of the net—lashed out and struck Kellan in the side.
He felt a flash of agony as claws raked his bronze scale vest. The force sent him sprawling sideways, vision bursting with momentary stars. He hit the ground hard, tasting blood where he bit his tongue. The spear was ripped from his grip, lodged in the beast.
Desperately, Kellan rolled to face the wolf again, hand fumbling for a weapon—anything. His fingers closed around the hilt of his short skinning knife at his belt. It was hardly a weapon for a monster like this, but he drew it anyway, pushing himself up on one knee.
The Alpha's white-fire eyes bore into him with hatred. Impaled by the spear, it thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge the weapon. The shaft whipped back and forth, still caught in the creature's flesh, cutting deeper with each movement. Finally, in a display of horrific resolve, the wolf twisted and bit at the spear's haft, jaws snapping it in two. The upper half fell away, sparking with leftover enchantment. The head remained embedded somewhere in the wolf's shoulder or chest, oozing that ghostly light instead of blood.
The wolf staggered from the pain, its form flickering, but still it stood. It fixed Kellan with a predatory focus and began to lunge at him, even tangled as it was.
Suddenly, Bramble charged in from the side with a fierce snarl. The loyal dog launched himself at the wolf's face, jaws clamping onto the side of its muzzle. It was an insane move—Bramble's weight was nothing compared to the giant wolf's—but it was timed with the beast's weakened state. The Alpha whipped its head, catching Bramble by surprise and throwing him off, but the dog's intervention had bought Kellan a second's pause and likely saved him from a crushing tackle.
In that heartbeat, Kellan's hand fell upon something in the grass near him—the broken half of his spear, specifically the top half with the blade still attached and crackling with residual energy. A jolt of hope shot through him. He seized it, feeling a slight static bite as the enchantment recognized its master's grip once more.
The Alpha Wolf turned back to Kellan, shaking off the last loops of the net, wounded but not defeated. It crouched to spring at him and end this. Kellan rose to both feet, battered but unwavering, and leveled the half-spear. He could see the tip of the original spearhead protruding from the creature's chest now, right between its forelegs where he must have lodged it. It hadn't reached the core, but if he could drive it further… or strike anew.
Time slowed as the two foes faced off for the final clash. In the periphery, Kellan was aware of Bramble—injured perhaps, limping back up with a determined growl to rejoin the fight, blood (hopefully from the wolf) matting the fur of his shoulder. The moon shone directly overhead at zenith, bathing man and monster in cold fire.
The Alpha leapt, jaws open to tear Kellan apart. Kellan hurled himself forward as well, a last reckless charge. He ducked low, feeling the rush of air as those terrible jaws snapped where his head had been an instant before. For a frozen moment, he found himself nearly under the wolf, the beast sailing over him. With every ounce of strength and will, Kellan thrust upward with the broken spear shaft, like a dagger aimed at the heart.
The bronze blade punched into the Alpha's chest, guided perhaps by fate or by the slight glow of the embedded spear tip already there. Kellan drove it home with a hoarse shout, using the creature's own momentum against it. The blade found the core.
There was a sensation of sudden heat against Kellan's hands, and the Alpha Wolf's charge faltered mid-air. The monster crashed to the ground just behind Kellan, plowing a furrow in the earth. Kellan spun, stumbling, and saw the great wolf on its side, massive paws scrabbling. From a gaping wound in its chest, a radiant light poured forth—the broken spear blade had pierced the core that lay within. The Alpha's eyes dimmed and it let out one last, mournful howl that echoed not just in the air but in Kellan's mind, filled not with rage now but a kind of ancient sorrow. Then the light flared and the wolf's entire form dissolved into silvery mist.
It was over. The spectral fog that had blanketed the forest began to evaporate at once, as if drawn away into the beam of moonlight still shining from the obelisk. The weight on Kellan's spirit lifted; the draining fatigue effect dissipated with it. He stood swaying, chest heaving and limbs trembling from exertion and wounds, surrounded by rapidly clearing air. The obelisk's beam pulsed once, twice, then faded to a steady glow.
In the center of the clearing, where the wolf had fallen, a single object now remained: a core, larger than most Kellan had seen, glowing a pearlescent white with a subtle halo of shifting colors around it. The Alpha's core, purified in defeat. It lit the grass around it in soft light.
Bramble limped to Kellan's side, pressing his body against the man's legs, half for support and half in solidarity. Kellan dropped to one knee and threw an arm around his companion. "You did it," he whispered, voice raw. Bramble licked his chin and gave a weak "boof" of agreement. Together they stumbled toward the fallen core. Kellan picked it up carefully, cradling it in both hands. It was cool to the touch, humming with latent energy. Within its depths he swore he saw images—a wolf running beneath a full moon, a key turning in a lock, a door opening.
As if in response, a familiar chime echoed in his consciousness. System notifications cascaded:
Lexicon Node III Cleared!
Final Key Acquired – Tier-1 Lexicon Sequence Complete.
Synchronizing Keys…
Kellan's HUD bloomed with new data. Three key symbols—one for each Node they had cleared—appeared and merged into a single emblem: a triangular icon that glowed bright gold for a moment before vanishing. Then a timer popped up in stark relief at the top of his vision:
72:00:00 – Tier Ascension Imminent.
72 hours. The final countdown had begun, triggered ahead of the original ten-day schedule because they had completed the required tasks. Kellan almost couldn't believe it—they had done it with days to spare. He let out a shaky laugh that was half a sob of relief and triumph.
Around them, the environment was indeed changing. The fog was entirely gone now, revealing the night-shrouded forest in clarity. And the forest was alive with movement and sound once more: night birds calling in confusion at the sudden clarity, the scurrying of rodents and the distant calls of ordinary wolves or other beasts in the far distance, perhaps reacting to the end of the spectral predator's reign.
Bramble wuffed softly, drawing Kellan's attention. The dog looked upward. Following his gaze, Kellan's eyes widened. Above the canopy, the stars were moving. No, not stars—the beam from the obelisk had reached something. High overhead, three points of light were converging, each coming from the direction of one of the three Nodes they'd cleared. All three Tier-1 keys, ignited now by their synchronization, were sending luminous rays skyward. They met at the zenith, merging into a brilliant aurora-like swirl of colors that began to spread across the night sky inside the Dyson sphere like a curtain of dawn. It was beautiful… and ominous.
Kellan knew this was the herald of massive changes. The environment would not remain static these last 72 hours. The outline in the Lexicon lore had implied a global event—quakes, new hazards, opportunities too. And at the center of it all, somewhere on this world map, the path to Tier-2 would open. Likely that was what the keys were really for.
He took a deep, ragged breath and turned to Bramble, who sat panting but alert at his side. "We should get home," Kellan said softly. Home—their cave, their refuge, filled with supplies and tools and memories. They had a lot to do. Reinforce, gather what they needed, say goodbye to what they couldn't carry. And then make it to wherever the ascension point was before time ran out.
Bramble wagged his tail, exhausted but clearly in agreement. The dog moved to Kellan's side and gently mouthed the torn fabric of Kellan's sleeve as if to prompt him up. Kellan grimaced, rising fully and wiping sweat and dirt from his face. He felt battered from the fight—bruises blossomed on his ribs, a few shallow claw cuts stung on his left arm where the scales hadn't fully stopped them. Bramble, too, favored one back leg slightly and had a scratch above his eye. Nothing life-threatening, thank the stars. They would patch up soon.
Before leaving, Kellan quickly scoured the battleground for anything of importance. He retrieved the hybrid core from where it had rolled; it was dim now, seemingly spent in unlocking the Node, but he tucked it away nonetheless. He found the butt of his broken spear and collected it, in case it could be reforged. And from the dispersing motes of the Alpha's remains, he gingerly plucked out a single massive fang that had solidified on the ground—a trophy and possibly a material for crafting later.
Lastly, he approached the obelisk one more time. Its runes were softly lit, and as Kellan rested a hand on the ancient stone, he felt a sense of closure emanating from it. The Node was complete, its purpose fulfilled. The Lexicon's lore here, which once read "Guard / Watch" as he deciphered, now glowed with a new inscription beneath it. He squinted, translating slowly: "The way opens for the worthy." He smiled tiredly. Worthy or not, they had survived and that was enough.
"Thank you," he found himself whispering, to whatever spirits or machines governed this place. Then he turned his back on the ruin and, leaning on Bramble just a little, together they limped out of the clearing.
Above, the aurora of the converged keys shimmered brighter, painting the woods in a strange twilight at midnight. The first distant rumbles of a changing world rolled through the ground beneath their feet as Kellan and Bramble began their journey back to base, hearts heavy with exhaustion but blazing with hope. The Moon-Bound Guardian had fallen, and now the final race against time would begin in earnest.