The Wastes stretched out behind them, a vast and unforgiving expanse that seemed to disappear into the horizon. Zarin glanced back once, his eyes lingering on the dark, jagged peaks of the Spire that loomed in the distance. It was still visible, though barely—a shadow on the edge of the world, far removed from the dangers and trials they had faced within its depths.
He let out a slow breath, turning back to the path ahead. The air was lighter now, the wind less biting, and the ground beneath their feet had softened, though the scars of the Wastes still marked the land. The further they traveled, the more the landscape began to change, shifting from the harsh, barren terrain to something that felt… almost normal. The Wastes were behind them, but their impact lingered, etched into their very bones.
Reya walked beside him, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp as she scanned the area. They had been walking in silence for some time now, the weight of the encounter with the Ascendant still fresh in their minds. Zarin hadn’t stopped thinking about the words that had been spoken, the offer that had been made. The temptation had been real, but he pushed the thought aside for now.
Ahead of them, Maros moved at a steady pace, his staff tapping softly against the ground as he led the way. He had been quieter than usual since the encounter, his expression thoughtful and distant. Zarin had grown accustomed to Maros’ cryptic nature, his habit of withholding information until it was necessary, but today, there was something different about him—something more vulnerable, more… human.
As they moved further from the Wastes, Zarin noticed Maros slowing his pace, eventually coming to a stop on a small rise that overlooked the plains ahead. He turned to face them, his expression solemn, but his eyes held a certain softness that Zarin hadn’t seen before.
“We’re leaving the Wastes,” Maros said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. “But what we faced back there… it’s not something we can forget.”
Reya raised an eyebrow, glancing between Maros and Zarin. “We’ve been through plenty. What’s different now?”
Maros was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he seemed almost lost in thought, as though the landscape before him held memories he couldn’t quite shake.
“It’s different because the Spire marks the beginning of something,” Maros said finally. “A new chapter for us all. For me… it marks the end of something I’ve been avoiding for a long time.”
Zarin exchanged a glance with Reya. Maros’ words carried a weight they hadn’t heard from him before, a depth of emotion that was usually hidden behind his composed exterior.
“What do you mean?” Zarin asked, stepping closer.
Maros sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as though the weight of his years had finally caught up to him. “I’ve spent so much of my life running from the past—hiding in the Wastes, away from the people I once called allies, away from the Ascendants, away from the choices I made.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared into the distance, as if seeing something far beyond the horizon. “I told you before that the Old Magic changes people—that it twists and reshapes not only their bodies but their very souls. I saw it happen with Rovan. I watched it happen with the others who sought to control the magic, to bend it to their will.”
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Zarin felt a knot form in his chest as Maros spoke. This was the first time Maros had spoken so openly about his past, about the burden he carried. There had always been a distance between them, a sense that Maros was keeping something hidden, but now… now the walls were starting to come down.
“I was part of that world once,” Maros continued, his voice low. “The Ascendants weren’t always what they are now. They were seekers, scholars, explorers of the ancient forces that shaped the world. I was one of them. We believed we could understand the Old Magic—that we could master it, harness it for the greater good.”
Reya frowned, her arms crossed over her chest. “But something went wrong.”
Maros nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “It always does, with power like that. The Old Magic isn’t meant to be controlled. It’s a living force, older than the world itself. And those who try to control it… they become consumed by it. Rovan wasn’t the first to fall to its influence, and he won’t be the last.”
Zarin swallowed hard, his heart heavy with the weight of Maros’ words. The Old Magic flowed through him now, a part of him, but hearing Maros speak of it—of the dangers it posed—made him realize just how precarious his situation was. He had already felt the pull of the magic, the way it threatened to overwhelm him, to twist him into something he didn’t recognize.
“And you?” Reya asked, her voice quieter now. “What happened to you?”
Maros smiled faintly, though it was a sad, bitter smile. “I left. I saw what was happening to Rovan, to the others. I saw how the magic was changing them, turning them into something… less than human. I tried to stop it, tried to warn them, but no one would listen. They were too far gone, too hungry for power.”
He paused, his eyes flickering with something that looked like regret. “So I left. I walked away from it all—from the Ascendants, from the magic, from the people I once called friends. I thought if I could just get away, if I could distance myself from the magic, I could escape its pull.”
Zarin felt a lump form in his throat as he listened. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Maros, to walk away from everything he had known, to live in isolation for so many years, hiding from the magic that had once been a part of his life.
“But it never really leaves you, does it?” Zarin asked quietly.
Maros met his gaze, his expression softening. “No. It doesn’t. The Old Magic stays with you, whether you want it to or not. I thought I could escape it by hiding in the Wastes, by cutting myself off from the world. But the magic is always there, waiting. And now, with you and Reya, it’s found its way back into my life.”
Reya shifted beside Zarin, her voice thoughtful. “So why help us? Why not stay hidden? You could have kept running.”
Maros smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. “Because running doesn’t solve anything. I learned that the hard way. I’ve spent too long hiding from my past, from the choices I made, from the people I left behind. But now… now I have a chance to do things differently. To guide you both, to make sure you don’t fall into the same traps I did.”
Zarin felt a warmth in his chest at Maros’ words, a sense of gratitude that he hadn’t fully realized until now. Maros had been there from the beginning, guiding them, protecting them, even when they hadn’t fully understood the scope of the journey they were on.
“I won’t let the magic consume you,” Maros said softly, his gaze steady. “Either of you. I’ll guide you, as long as I can. I’ll be there when the Old Magic tests you, when it pushes you to your limits. And I won’t let you fall.”
Zarin nodded, his heart heavy but filled with a quiet sense of resolve. Maros had lived through the dangers of the Old Magic, had seen the toll it could take. But now, he was here with them, and together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Reya glanced at Maros, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, we’re not the best at staying out of trouble, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Maros chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine for the first time in a long while. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The wind blew softly around them, carrying with it the scent of something new—a fresh beginning, a new path forward. They had left the Wastes behind, but the journey was far from over. The Old Magic still pulsed within them, a force that would continue to test them, to shape them.
But for the first time, Zarin felt a sense of peace. They weren’t alone. They had each other, and they had Maros to guide them. Whatever came next, they would face it together.
And they wouldn’t run.
