Chapter 12: Cinder Knight
They passed through an old watch line just before dusk began rising.
It looked like a broken trail half-buried by roots. The wind whistled through the hollow towers, blowing dust and spirals along the path.
Riven walked ahead, his eyes half-lidded with tiredness. He held the dagger, but he lowered it.
Veyla trailed behind him, her footsteps lighter than his, and she seemed to be lost in thought.
Neither of them had spoken since the fight, and he wasn't sure what bothered her more—how easy it was for him to kill the Warden or how quiet he had been after.
They stopped at the edge of a wide clearing. He noticed ruined pillars jutting from the ground, each etched with faded markings. Some of them looked like old shrines, others, graves.
A weathered sign creaked in the wind, inscribed with bold letters: THE GRAVEYARD OF CINDER KNIGHTS
Riven tilted his head slightly, noticing a shadow from where he stood. "Someone's here," he said, his hand gripping the dagger tightly.
Veyla had already drawn her blade. "I can feel it as well."
They walked closer, stepping into the open, and saw a knight.
He stood motionless in the center of a cathedral, facing away. Black trim accented the battered but proud silver plates of his armor.