"You did what you had to do," Kaelen replied. "The curse would have spread."
Kaelen had been dead for seven years. At least, that’s what the songs said. The songs that bards sang in taverns, the ones where the "Radiant Five" slew the Lich King and sealed the Rift. In those songs, Kaelen was the tragic sixth member—the Necromancer who turned traitor at the final moment, driven mad by the very darkness he sought to control. They sang of how the Paladin, Ser Alistair, had plunged the holy blade Dawnbreaker into Kaelen’s heart to save the world.
Thalia, the young mage, looked at him with wide, awestruck eyes. "The songs are wrong, aren’t they? You never betrayed anyone." dark hero party save
Kaelen’s violet veins pulsed. "Why come to me? Your Radiant Five are a week’s ride away."
And the heartstone? It shattered. But instead of releasing the stolen life force back into the void, Kaelen forced it outward. Wisps of golden and silver light flowed from his fingers and wrapped around Lyra, Gunnar, and Thalia. Their wounds sealed. Their color returned. They were whole. "You did what you had to do," Kaelen replied
He didn’t take the sword. Instead, he placed his hand on Alistair’s shoulder.
Behind him, Lyra, Gunnar, Thalia, and even Ser Alistair fell into step. Not following. Walking beside him. The songs that bards sang in taverns, the
"Please," the scout gasped. "You’re the Shadowmender, aren’t you? The one they whisper about? Our party... we went to cleanse the Sunken Crypt. It was a trap. A necromancer—a real one, not like you—he’s using a corrupted heartstone. It’s draining the life from my friends. They have two days left. Maybe less."
He turned and walked away, not into exile, but toward a small cottage Lyra had pointed out—a place to rest, to heal, to finally be still.
"No," Kaelen said simply.