The Crimson Legacy (In Progress)

Chapter 11: Deceived - A Hero

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Why was she so weak? 

Why couldn't she summon the power that had saved her before? 

Her fists clenched, and she slammed them into the ground, over and over, her scarlet aura flaring with each impact. 

The questions tore at her mind, but no answers came.

For a long moment, she knelt there, panting, her vision blurring with the pain and the anger that refused to fade.

But then, her eyes fell on something—Zephyr's backpack. It lay in the grass, untouched, the only thing left behind when his body had been turned to sand.

Clara's breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell on Zephyr's backpack, lying motionless on the ground like a discarded relic. The weight of exhaustion and pain bore down on her, but something deeper—a gnawing unease—compelled her to crawl toward it, her limbs trembling with effort. Her scarlet eyes flickered with fading resolve as her fingers, bloodied and shaking, gripped the straps.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe as she unfastened the pack, the sound of the buckle snapping open echoing unnervingly in the silence. Inside, resting at the top like an ancient prize, was the Tome of Eldrid. Its writings, still glowing faintly with its eerie purple light, hummed with a power that seemed to pulse in time with Clara's own heartbeat.

For a brief moment, she felt relief—the Tome was safe. Despite everything, the one thing that could hold the answers to her past, to her power, was still in her hands. But that relief was fleeting, quickly consumed by the void left in the wake of Zephyr's disappearance. He was gone. Turned into nothing but sand.

Clara's breath hitched, and she dug deeper into the pack, her hands moving on instinct, searching for something—anything of him. Something to remind her that he had been real, that the person who had fought beside her wasn't just a fleeting illusion. As her fingers swept through the remaining contents, they brushed against something small and cold, hidden beneath the Tome.

Her body went rigid.

Slowly, as if afraid of what she might find, Clara pulled the object out. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath shaky as she held it up to the dim light.

A silver pendant.

Simple. Unassuming. But unmistakable. 

The pendant bore the exact same symbol she had seen on Frostheart—the insignia of the Shadow Coven.

Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing into the tiny, gleaming piece of metal resting in Clara's palm. Her breath caught, and her pulse quickened as she stared at the pendant, her mind refusing to comprehend what she was seeing. 

Why would Zephyr have this? 

A wave of cold disbelief washed over her, followed by a growing sense of dread. Her mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation, any reason that could make sense of this. But as her fingers tightened around the pendant, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, each one more devastating than the last.