The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale silver glow over the forest as Irelia, Pip, and Aurelia reached the edge of the Crumbling Waste. The air seemed to thicken with every step closer, heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of ancient magic. The ruined pyramid loomed before them, its weathered stones blackened by time, the edges crumbling into jagged shapes.

Irelia slid off Aurelia’s saddle, her boots crunching softly against the gravelly ground. She swayed slightly, fatigue washing over her like a tide. Her mana reserves, though replenished by the potion she drank earlier, felt precariously fragile. The thought of taking another dose chilled her; she’d heard too many stories of reckless mages pushing themselves past the breaking point. Her hands lingered on Aurelia’s reins, grounding herself before turning to Pip.

The halfling was silent for once, his gaze locked on the towering pyramid. His small frame was tense, his knuckles white as they gripped the straps of his pack. “That’s it,” he whispered. “The Crumbling Waste..”

Irelia followed his gaze. The Crumbling Waste was larger than she remembered from the old maps—an imposing step pyramid with its peak nearly obscured by the canopy of the surrounding forest. Three of the four grand staircases were broken, jagged stones littering the ground below. Only one staircase remained intact, its path leading to a platform where an altar stood silhouetted against the night sky.

Irelia raised her spyglass, scanning the pyramid. Flickering torchlight illuminated figures moving at the top. She counted eight figures at the summit, their robes billowing in the wind. Closer to the intact staircase, three more stood guard, their postures alert and their hands gripping their weapons.

Shadowy figures conducting ominous rituals in ancient ruins under the cover of night? She knew exactly what she was dealing with.

With a groan, she lowered the spyglass and pinched the bridge of her nose. “A cult? Seriously? This is the fifth one I’ve stumbled across this year, and autumn just began.”

Pip blinked, momentarily thrown off by her tone. “You sound… annoyed more than concerned.”

“That’s because cults are messy,” Irelia shot back, exasperation dripping from her voice. “They’re unpredictable, fanatical, and they never know when to quit. And without fail—” she gestured vaguely toward the ruins “—they always end up summoning something that makes everything worse.”

Pip chuckled nervously but quickly sobered. His gaze drifted back to the pyramid. “Do you think they’re… summoning something?”

Irelia squinted at the figures atop the pyramid, noting their synchronized movements and the faint glow of runes carved into the stone. Her jaw tightened. “I can’t say for sure, but judging by the presence of hellhounds, it’s likely they’re up to no good.”

Pip swallowed hard, his earlier amusement replaced by unease. “Cults never bring anything good, do they?”

“Never,” Irelia muttered grimly. “So, let’s make sure we stop this one before it gets out of hand.”

Pip took the spyglass, adjusting the focus before his breath hitched.

“There,” he whispered, pointing toward the altar.

Irelia followed his gaze, her sharp eyes locking onto four figures lying motionless atop the stone platform. Even from this distance, their small frames were unmistakable.

“Halflings,” she murmured.

Relief flickered across her face—they’re alive—before it hardened into cold resolve.

“That’s the good news. The bad news?” Her eyes swept over the gathering below. “There are a lot of cultists, and whatever ritual they’re performing... it’s bad news for all of us.”

Pip’s hands curled into fists. “We can’t just wait. We have to do something.”

Irelia placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We will. But not without a plan. Charging in blind will get them killed—and us along with them.”

Pip opened his mouth, ready to argue, but faltered beneath her unwavering gaze. With a frustrated sigh, he relented.

“Fine. But we can’t take too long.”

“We won’t,” she promised, her voice firm. “But we need to be smart about this.”

Reluctantly, Pip followed as Irelia led Aurelia to a nearby clearing. She dismounted, removing her gear before kneeling to carve runes into the earth. A faint glow pulsed through the symbols as she traced the protective wards, their magic humming softly as the barrier activated.

As the last rune settled into place, Irelia glanced up to find Pip pacing restlessly, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. She hesitated for a beat before speaking.

“Pip… this is going to be dangerous. I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep you safe.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “You need to think about whether you’re really ready for this.”

Pip stopped pacing, turning to face her. His hazel eyes burned with determination.

“They’re my friends, Irelia. I can’t just stand back and let you do this alone. We’re a team, remember?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, but it quickly faded.

“Then you follow my lead,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “No improvising. No heroics. You do exactly what I tell you. Understood?”

Pip didn’t hesitate. “Understood.”

Irelia studied him for a moment before nodding, her expression softening just slightly.

“Good. Get some rest while you can. We move as soon as the preparations are done.”

Pip sighed but settled down near the fire, though the restless energy radiating off him made it clear sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Meanwhile, Irelia sat cross-legged, her gaze locked onto the ruins in the distance. Her mind worked through every possibility, every risk, sharpening her resolve like a blade against a whetstone.

They couldn’t afford to fail. Not tonight.

The first rays of dawn were still hours away when Irelia leaned over her hastily drawn map, her fingers tracing the rough outlines of the pyramid. Across from her, Pip sat with his brow furrowed, trying to absorb every detail of her plan.

“We move under the cover of darkness,” Irelia began, her voice steady and sure. “I’ll create a distraction—big enough to draw their attention away from the altar. While they’re focused on me, you’ll slip in and free your friends.”

Pip swallowed, his fingers fidgeting with his slingshot. “And… what happens if they do spot me?”

“You won’t let them,” Irelia said, meeting his gaze. “Stick to the shadows. Move quickly, stay quiet. And if anything goes wrong, use the runestone I gave you. I’ll find you.”

He nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his expression. “You make it sound simple. But I know it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Irelia admitted. Her tone softened just slightly. “But I’ve faced worse odds, and so will you. Trust yourself, Pip. You’re smarter and braver than you think.”

Pip’s cheeks tinged red, though he managed a small grin. “Thanks… I think?”

Irelia smirked before standing, adjusting the straps on her gear. Her gaze flicked toward the ruins, sharp and calculating.

“Get ready,” she said, voice low. “We move in five.”

The forest was unnervingly quiet as they approached the pyramid. Shadows played tricks on their vision, cast long and shifting by the moonlight and the cultists' torches. Irelia moved with practiced ease, her steps silent as she crept toward the edge of the ruins. Pip followed close behind, his smaller stature making him naturally stealthy, though his breath came quicker with each passing second.

At the base of the pyramid, Irelia motioned for Pip to stop. She gestured toward the intact staircase, where three cultists stood guard. Their robes were tattered but bore symbols that glowed faintly in the dark, runes etched in patterns Irelia recognized from the altar.

She turned to Pip, her voice a bare whisper. “This is where we split up. Remember, stay low and stick to the shadows. Move quickly, and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Pip nodded, clutching his slingshot tightly. "Are you sure you can take on all those cultists? There’s a lot of them."

“I’ve dealt with more in worse circumstances.” Irelia’s lips curved into a smirk, though her eyes remained hard. “I will give them something to focus on. Go.”

Without waiting for his response, Irelia strode into the open, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant. Gone was the measured stealth—her posture slumped, her steps turned uneven, and an exaggerated look of wonder lit up her face.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying across the clearing. “A creepy cult in the middle of nowhere? This is amazing! My friends are going to be so jealous when they hear about this!”

The cultists froze, their heads snapping toward her. One of them barked an order, and two began descending the steps, their expressions twisted with annoyance and malice. 

One cultist stepped forward, his voice low and threatening. “You’ve wandered where you don’t belong, girl. Another sacrifice for the Scion of Fire.”

Irelia tilted her head, feigning ignorance. “Sacrifice? That sounds… ominous. But kind of cool, too.” She shrugged. “Not sure my friends will believe me when I tell them about this.”

The cultists approached cautiously, their weapons drawn, but their stances betrayed their confidence. To them, she was easy prey.

Irelia raised her hands in mock surrender, her voice light, almost playful. “No need for all that.” She gestured lazily at their weapons. “I’m just sightseeing. Do you take tour groups?”

When the two cultists were close enough, Irelia’s demeanor shifted in an instant. Her daggers flashed in the moonlight, and before either could react, she struck. The first cultist fell silently, a slash to his throat cutting off any chance of alarm. The second tried to swing his weapon, but Irelia ducked beneath the blow, her blade sinking into his side. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The remaining guard at the staircase shouted, raising a hand to cast a spell. Irelia bolted into the forest, her movements deliberate yet appearing frantic. More cultists at the top of the pyramid heard the commotion and began to descend, following their comrade’s signal.

The cultists poured into the forest after Irelia, their footsteps loud and hurried as they crashed through the undergrowth. Irelia darted between the trees, her movements fluid despite her exhaustion. She counted the figures chasing her—six, possibly seven. Perfect.

She led them deeper, toward the traps she’d laid earlier. Her hand brushed a mark on a nearby tree as she passed, activating a teleportation rune she had placed earlier. A flash of light sent her several feet ahead, putting more distance between herself and her pursuers. The cultists, unaware of the rune’s purpose, scrambled to follow.

The first trap sprung when the lead cultist stepped into a hidden circle of runes carved into the ground. A burst of icy shards erupted, freezing his legs and tripping those directly behind him. Cries of pain and alarm echoed through the forest as the others hesitated, wary of more traps.

“You should’ve stayed at the pyramid!” Irelia called over her shoulder, her voice laced with mocking confidence. “This forest doesn’t like visitors.”

One cultist shouted an incantation, a fireball erupting from his hands and soaring toward her. Irelia ducked behind a tree, the flames devouring the tree. She activated another rune, teleporting behind the spellcaster. Before he could react, her dagger found his neck, and he collapsed with a choked gasp.

The remaining cultists regrouped, spreading out to encircle her. Irelia’s sharp eyes caught the faint shimmer of a barrier forming as one of them chanted a protective spell. She cursed under her breath—organized cultists were always more trouble.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, gripping her daggers tightly. She activated another trap—a pair of runestones hidden under fallen leaves erupted in a blinding flash of light, disorienting her attackers. Taking advantage of the chaos, she lunged at

the nearest cultist, her blade cutting through his defenses.

The forest erupted into chaos, spells and shouts filling the air as Irelia systematically dismantled their group. Her exhaustion gnawed at her with every spell cast and every strike of her blade, but she pushed through, her determination unyielding.

As the last cultist fell, Irelia leaned against a tree, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her mana reserves were dangerously low, and the edge of collapse loomed closer. But the cultists were dealt with—for now. She turned her gaze toward the pyramid, hoping Pip was faring better.

Author's Note:

Well, that escalated quickly.

From a quiet morning to chasing hellhounds and blowing up canyons, Irelia’s week has taken a sharp left turn. Not to mention, there’s now a pyramid full of robed weirdos doing moonlit rituals—which, in her words, is at least the fifth cult this year. (And yes, she’s keeping count.)

And so we end this chapter—just before the descent into the pyramid, into danger, and (let’s be honest) into more chaos than either Irelia or Pip signed up for- I want to take a moment to thank you for walking alongside Irelia on this journey. 

At its core, this arc was about rejection, resilience, and the choice to help when no one else will. Irelia could’ve ignored Pip, just like she ignored that letter from the family that cast her out. But she didn’t. Because underneath the wit and exasperation, there’s a spine of steel—and a heart that refuses to fully close itself off, no matter how many times it’s been burned.

Thank you for reading. Things are only going to get stranger, deeper, and yes—probably cultier—from here. Buckle up.

See you in the next chapter.