Kingdom of Yabla Vol.1: Aric Valen's Journey

Chapter 8: The Last Stronghold

The wind howled through the mountain pass, sharp and biting against Aric's skin as he and Alistair pressed onward. They had left the safety of the Seeker stronghold just hours ago, their destination clear but daunting: the last of the Seeker strongholds, hidden deep within the mountains to the west. It was their only hope, the last refuge where they might find the knowledge they needed to destroy the Obsidian Crown.

But the journey ahead was fraught with danger, and Aric could feel the weight of the crown's magic pressing down on him with every step.

"Keep moving," Alistair urged, his voice tight against the wind. His injuries had slowed him, but he pushed forward relentlessly, his focus unwavering. The stronghold's wards had kept Tavar's forces at bay for now, but Alistair knew they wouldn't hold forever. Time was running out.

Aric nodded, though his legs burned with exhaustion, and his mind swirled with doubt. The crown, still safely tucked away in his satchel, pulsed faintly with dark energy, a constant reminder of the power he carried. It was quiet now, its whispers muted by the binding ritual, but Aric could still feel its presence, lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for a moment of weakness.

He tried to shake off the unease that clung to him, focusing instead on the path ahead. The mountains loomed large, their jagged peaks disappearing into the low-hanging clouds. The terrain was treacherous, the ground uneven and covered in loose rocks that threatened to slip underfoot with every step.

"How much farther?" Aric asked, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Not far," Alistair replied, though his voice was strained. "The entrance to the stronghold is hidden in the cliffs, like the last one. But this place... it's different. Older. More dangerous."

Aric frowned, glancing up at the towering cliffs. "More dangerous? How?"

Alistair didn't answer right away, his eyes scanning the mountainside as if searching for something. "This stronghold was built during the First Age, long before Yabla was unified. It holds more than just the knowledge of the Seekers—it holds the last remnants of the old magic. Magic that even Tavar fears."

Aric's heart quickened. "If it's so powerful, why wasn't it used before? Why didn't the Seekers destroy the crown when they had the chance?"

Alistair's expression darkened. "Because the cost of using that magic is too great. Even the Seekers feared it. But we're running out of options, Aric. If we can't destroy the crown..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Aric knew what he meant. If they failed, Tavar would claim the crown, and all of Yabla would fall under his shadow. The kingdom would be lost, and the darkness that had been contained for centuries would spread unchecked.

They continued their ascent in silence, the air growing colder as they climbed higher. Aric's mind churned with a thousand thoughts, his body aching from the strain. He couldn't help but wonder if they were already too late. Tavar's forces were relentless, and every moment they spent climbing these mountains felt like a moment wasted.

But they had no choice. The stronghold was their only hope.

After what felt like hours, they reached a narrow ledge that jutted out from the mountainside. Alistair paused, catching his breath, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as he surveyed the area.

"There," he said, pointing to a small, barely visible opening in the cliff face. "That's the entrance."

Aric squinted, barely able to make out the opening. It was small, unassuming, hidden by the natural contours of the rock. He never would have noticed it if Alistair hadn't pointed it out.