Wallace lay crushed beneath the rubble, his vision blurred from pain, his breathing shallow. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his body, as jagged rocks pressed against his chest and legs. Dust filled his lungs, and the air was thick with the remnants of the tomb’s collapse. He was trapped.
Left behind.
Kelvin’s choice echoed in his mind, a decision that had led to this moment—this hell. Wallace’s chest tightened, not just from the weight of the stones, but from the seething anger boiling inside him. Kelvin had chosen mercy over action, idealism over survival, and now Wallace was paying for it.
Kelvin could have ended things quickly, could have secured the path out, but instead, he had sought the coin of freepathage, a symbol of peace and passage. He refused to cross the line, refused to force his boyfriend into something dark to secure their escape. And while Wallace understood—on some distant, rational level—he couldn’t forgive the consequences. Morality hadn’t saved them from the dangers that lay in wait. It had trapped Wallace beneath these stones.
Summoning what little strength he had left, Wallace reached deep within himself and activated his portal ability. The glow of his magic flickered weakly, and shifting even the smallest rock took immense effort. Each stone felt like moving a mountain. Sweat poured from his fur, mingling with the blood and dirt that coated his body, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.
The memory of Kelvin's decision—the moment he chose the coin—raged in Wallace's mind, feeding the fire of his willpower. The coin, symbolizing freedom, peace, and passage, had meant nothing in the face of their immediate danger. It had meant Wallace getting crushed beneath the earth while Kelvin tried to salvage his ideals.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wallace cleared the last of the debris. He rolled onto his back, gasping for breath, his body trembling from exhaustion and fury. As he lay there, staring up at the ruined ceiling of the tomb, his mind turned dark with the weight of his thoughts.
Kelvin had left him to die.
The others had moved on—Kai had no choice, he knew that. But Kelvin... Kelvin’s choice had sealed Wallace’s fate. This couldn’t happen again. Never again would Wallace let someone else’s moral compass decide his fate. He needed the power to act—decisively, ruthlessly, without hesitation.
There was only one place where he could find that kind of power.
Kol-Taar.
The cursed city. The tales of Kol-Taar were whispered in the darkest corners of the world, a city where time itself warped and twisted, where reality bent to the whims of an ancient wizard. It was said that deep within the heart of Kol-Taar lay a golden wand, a relic of unimaginable power. Whoever wielded it could reshape the world, bend reality, and, most importantly, make the decisions that needed to be made. No hesitation. No mercy. That was what Wallace needed.
With a ragged breath, Wallace opened a portal to the world of the Thornclads. If anyone knew how to reach Kol-Taar, it was them. The Thornclads were known for their intellect, for their mastery of ancient knowledge, and for their cold, calculating nature. They weren’t bound by sentiment or morality—they acted purely on logic and strength. It was a world Wallace found himself gravitating toward more and more.
Stepping through the portal, Wallace found himself in the heart of the Thornclad capital. The city was stark, a landscape of towering steel and gleaming metal, its architecture precise and unforgiving. Spires reached into the sky like jagged teeth, and the streets below buzzed with the methodical movement of Thornclads, their spiked bodies casting long, sharp shadows under the dim artificial light.
The air was cold, sterile, and Wallace moved quickly, ignoring the curious glances from the Thornclads around him. He was here for one reason. He wouldn’t be distracted.
The central headquarters loomed ahead, a massive, obsidian building that reflected nothing. Inside, the Thornclad leader awaited, his figure tall and commanding behind a polished black desk. His emerald scales shimmered faintly in the artificial glow, and his yellow eyes fixed on Wallace the moment he entered.
“What brings you here, rabbit?” the leader asked, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. Thornclads never acted without intent, and Wallace’s sudden appearance was unusual.
“I need to find the golden wand,” Wallace said without preamble. “The one from Kol-Taar.”
The leader’s eyes narrowed. “The wand of Kol-Taar?” His voice was measured, his gaze sharp as he assessed Wallace. “You seek immense power. For what purpose?”
Wallace’s anger simmered beneath the surface. His fists clenched at his sides as he thought of Kelvin’s indecision, of the moral high ground that had nearly gotten him killed. “Because people will die if I don’t act. I can’t afford to be weak. I won’t let hesitation endanger me again. I need the wand to stop this madness.”
The Thornclad leader studied him in silence for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Very well. But know this—the wizard of Kol-Taar is ancient, and his magic is powerful. He will not yield easily. And the city... it will test you.”
“I don’t care,” Wallace replied, his voice hard. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
The leader waved his hand, and a shimmering map appeared in the air between them. It showed Kol-Taar in all its twisted glory—a city where the streets curved impossibly, where time looped and fractured, bending to an unseen force. In the center of the city was a spire, where the golden wand was kept.
“There,” the leader said, pointing to the spire. “But be warned, the city is alive. It will try to break you. And the wizard...” His voice trailed off, and he gave Wallace a long, measured look. “He doesn’t take kindly to those who seek his power.”
Without another word, the Thornclad leader activated a portal, its shimmering energy crackling in the air. The gateway to Kol-Taar stood before Wallace, pulsing with dark energy.
“Good luck, Wallace,” the leader said. “You’ll need it.”
Kol-Taar was worse than the legends.
The very air seemed thick with malice, an oppressive magic that made each breath feel like a burden. The streets were twisted, their geometry wrong in ways Wallace couldn’t fully comprehend. Buildings loomed at odd angles, their structures bending and curving in ways that defied logic. Time itself felt broken, slipping away from him, stretching thin, then snapping back without warning. The city was alive, watching him, waiting for him to stumble.
Every step felt like a struggle. The deeper Wallace ventured into the cursed city, the more he could feel the wizard’s presence, a dark and suffocating energy that pressed down on him. The spire towered ahead, but it never seemed to get closer. The streets wound in on themselves, leading him in circles, disorienting him. It was as if Kol-Taar was deliberately trying to confuse him, to make him question his every move.
But Wallace pressed on. He would not be stopped. Not now.
As he neared the spire, something caught his eye—bodies. They were scattered at the base of the tower, their forms twisted and broken, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. Some were adventurers, others warriors, all of them victims of the city and its master. Wallace’s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to move forward. He couldn’t afford to hesitate. Hesitation had brought him here.
A crackle of energy filled the air, and Wallace looked up to see the wizard standing atop the spire, his dark robes billowing in an unnatural wind, his eyes glowing with a malevolent light. The air around him shimmered with magic, and with a wave of his hand, the wizard sent a pulse of energy through the sky.
Wallace watched in horror as a group of travelers was lifted into the air by invisible forces, their bodies contorting painfully as they writhed in agony. With a sickening snap, they were crushed, their lifeless forms dropping to the ground like discarded toys.
Wallace’s blood ran cold, but he couldn’t wait any longer. If he didn’t act now, more would die.
He sprinted toward the base of the spire, every muscle in his body screaming with effort. The wizard’s attention was still on the fallen travelers, giving Wallace the window he needed. He opened a portal, blinking into the heart of the spire, appearing just behind the wizard.
The golden wand shimmered in the wizard’s hand, its power vibrating in the air around them. Wallace’s heart raced as he reached for it. This was it—this was the power he needed to make the hard decisions.
Without hesitation, Wallace snatched the wand from the wizard’s grasp.
The wizard turned, his glowing eyes burning with fury. “You dare steal from me?” he hissed, his voice dark and venomous.
But Wallace didn’t wait for a response. He opened a portal, the golden wand clutched tightly in his hand, and leaped through just as the wizard’s magic crackled in the air behind him.
Wallace emerged on the other side of the portal, gasping for breath, the golden wand still in his grasp. He had done it.
But as he looked down at the wand, a heavy weight settled over him. He had the power now, but what had it cost him? And would it be enough?
