The first real road cuts like an old scar across the ashlands.
It isn't paved. Isn't clean. Just the skeleton of an ancient empire transit line—cracked metal plates buried beneath soot, warped by time, stretched toward the horizon like the bones of something too stubborn to die.
Agro's hooves crunched faint over the glassy grit, his pace steady now, lean frame still thin but stronger than before. The bandages across his flank held tight, coat rough but healing.
And for the first time in days… we moved.
Properly moved.
The forest broke behind us hours ago—blackened trees curling like fingers toward a smog-heavy sky. Ahead, the land sagged into fractured lowlands where jagged hills clawed upward, and rusted empire conduits pulsed faint beneath the dirt like buried veins.
I kept my eyes on the horizon.
It didn't look welcoming.
The ash clouds bled across the edges of the sky, heavy with smoke, tinged faint ember-red where the sun still fought to burn through. The dunes beyond shifted with heat distortion, shimmering like the world was bleeding sideways.
But it was still better than Draal.
Barely.
The crown pulsed faint in my pack, buried beneath layers of scavenged cloth, its molten hum threading sharp through the straps into my spine. The shard I found in Hollowstone sat beside it—jagged, etched with faint empire runes, still whispering fragments of memory I didn't want to hear.
I adjusted my cloak tighter against the wind, one hand steady on Agro's reins, the other near the hilt of the rusted sword strapped across my hip. It wasn't much—chipped, blade cracked near the guard, edges dulled—but steel's steel when it counts.
And the roads?
They counted.
Ash blew low across the plains as we crossed the old vein line. The ground dipped into sunken channels carved by the empire's forgotten engineers—trenches where conduits hummed faint under cracked panels, their glow pulsing like buried arteries.
Rumors said those veins ran beneath the entire continent.
No one knew how deep.
No one sane dug to find out.
Agro snorted, hooves scraping the edge of the trench, nostrils flaring sharp as faint tremors vibrated up through the ground.
"Easy," I muttered, brushing his mane, voice low. "It's just the old blood moving."
That's what they called it.
The empire's blood.
The systems buried under the world—still pulsing, still whispering, centuries after the Burnfall tore the cities down.
We pressed on.
The lowlands stretched wide—shattered relic spires sagging in the distance, dunes curling like waves of crushed glass, wind moaning faint through the broken terrain.
I kept my stride tight, Agro's pace matching mine, both of us quiet, the road empty—until I heard it.
Wheels.
Creaking faint over gravel.
Voices—low, muttering, clipped with that half-paranoid tone every scavenger picks up eventually.
I ducked beside a fractured wall, Agro shifting low behind me, hooves grinding against cracked stone.
A cart rolled into view down the next stretch of road—two wheels, half-splintered frame loaded with junked relic scrap, rusted panels, and glinting fragments of neural glass.
The man pulling it wasn't big.
Wiry, shoulders hunched beneath patched leathers, face rough under a scarf mask, goggles cracked at one edge. His coat was faded military cut—old empire standard, stripped of insignia, stitched over with scavenger symbols I half-recognized.
Ren Varrek.
The kind of trader you meet out here if you're lucky—or desperate.
Probably both.
His eyes caught mine the second I stepped out, hand drifting near my sword, Agro steady behind me.
Ren didn't flinch.
Didn't grab for a weapon either.
Just tilted his head, sharp eyes flicking over my gear, my pack, lingering faintly near the shard hum bleeding from beneath the canvas.
"Road's quiet," he rasped, voice rough from smoke or whiskey—maybe both. "Too quiet."
"Not for long," I muttered, scanning the horizon.
He followed my gaze—the ash dunes curling, faint heat lines rippling beyond the hills, old ruins clawing up like broken teeth.
"You heading across the Veins?" Ren asked.
"Depends."
"On?"
"How alive I want to stay."
A faint, sharp grin cracked his face.
"Smart," he said, tightening the cart's harness, scrap rattling faint. "But if you've got that…" He nodded subtly toward my pack, eyes narrowing. "…the Veins'll be the least of your problems."
I didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The shard's hum pulsed faint against my ribs, the crown whispering molten pressure through my thoughts.
Ren adjusted his goggles, voice lowering.
"You heard it, yeah? Beneath the dirt. The old blood moving."
"Felt it."
"And the roads?" He jerked his chin toward the dunes. "They're watching."
I tensed faintly, hand resting near my sword.
"Relax," Ren muttered, lifting his hands. "Ain't here to rob you. Just here to run scrap, trade information… survive."
His gaze sharpened.
"You want to survive, too?"
My jaw tightened.
"Then listen close," Ren added, stepping beside the cart, his voice dropping lower. "The Veins carry more than power. They carry memory. The empire buried its lies in 'em. Its weapons. Its ghosts."
I stayed quiet.
He leaned in.
"And if you're carrying one of those ghosts…" His eyes flicked to my pack again. "…then you're already dead. You just don't know the date yet."
The ground trembled faint under our feet—a pulse, sharp, subtle, bleeding through the cracked conduit lines beneath the road.
Agro shifted, ears twitching.
Ren's cart rattled, relic scrap vibrating faint.
I clenched my jaw, the crown's hum twisting harder in my skull—the shard pulsing sharp heat against my spine.
The Veins weren't dead.
The empire wasn't buried.
Not completely.
Ren straightened, tapping the cart rails.
"Two hours west," he said. "You'll find a trade post. Safe-ish. Supplies, rumors, maybe a drink if you've got enough Shards."
I didn't.
Quick count from the pack—maybe thirty-five Ash Shards, barely survival money. Enough for food, maybe rations, but nothing more.
"Appreciate it," I muttered, adjusting Agro's reins.
"Careful, traveler." Ren's grin thinned, voice rough. "The world's bleeding. And the bones remember."
He rolled his cart onward, scrap rattling, silhouette fading into the ash haze.
I watched him go.
The horizon pulsed faint—Veins whispering beneath the dirt, old ruins clawing at the sky, smoke curling along the distant hills.
I gripped the reins tighter, Agro steady beside me.
The road didn't forgive.
But neither did I.
And the empire's bones still had secrets to dig up.