The figure before them seemed to shift, its form rippling like smoke in a windless room. Aethren felt the chill of its presence deep in his bones, the cold seeping through his armor, gnawing at his resolve. It wasn’t just a shadow—it was something far older, far darker. His instincts screamed at him to fight, but there was something about the figure’s very being that made him hesitate.

"Who are you?" Aethren repeated, this time more forcefully, his voice cutting through the thick, oppressive silence. "What do you want with the city?"

The figure cocked its head to the side, its hollow gaze seeming to pierce right through him. "I want nothing," it rasped. "I am only the herald of what comes. You should know this already. The Void has no need of want. It simply is."

Aethren’s mind raced. This wasn’t just some puppet of the Void—it was something more, something deeply entwined with its very essence. The figure's words stirred something within him, like an old memory or a forgotten truth.

Elyra moved to his side, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready for any movement. "You speak in riddles. What do you mean by 'what comes'?"

The figure smiled—or at least, its features contorted into something resembling a smile, though it lacked warmth or humanity. "The end. The final call of the Void. Caris is already tainted. This city was never meant to survive what is coming." Its voice, though rasping, seemed to reverberate inside their skulls, filling their minds with images of darkness and destruction. "The cycle is almost complete."

Aethren clenched his jaw. He could feel the weight of the words pressing down on him. They had been trying to stop the Void from creeping into the world, but this… this felt like something far worse. The figure’s presence was suffocating, as if the very space around them was growing thinner with each passing second.

"What do you want from us?" Aethren demanded, his hand tightening around the hilt of the Cleansing Flame.

The figure's laugh was hollow and full of malice, like a thousand whispers in the dark. "You? You are nothing but pawns. Your struggle will be in vain. The Void cannot be stopped. It is inevitable. But…" It paused, its form flickering like a candle flame in the wind. "I suppose I can offer you a choice. Join the Void. Accept what is coming, and perhaps you will be spared. Resist, and you will perish as the others will. Either way, the end is inevitable."

Aethren’s heart pounded in his chest. The words of the figure resonated deep within him, making him question everything. Was this the truth? Was there truly no way to stop the Void?

"I’d rather die fighting," Elyra spat, her voice steady but fierce. "There’s always a choice. We won’t give in to the Void."

The figure’s form trembled, its voice turning to a growl. "Foolish, all of you. The Void does not ask for your permission. It will consume all in its path, and you will be nothing but dust in the wind."

Rhael, who had been standing silently with his staff raised, now stepped forward, his voice calm but laced with authority. "We have not come this far to surrender. The Void’s darkness may have infiltrated the city, but it cannot claim our will. We fight until the very end."

The figure’s eyes gleamed with something dark and ancient, as though it were seeing beyond the present moment, into some distant, inevitable future. "Then fight, little mortals. But know this: the end of your world is already written."

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With a sudden flick of its hand, the ground beneath their feet rumbled, and the shadows in the chamber seemed to writhe like living things. Aethren’s instincts kicked in, and he immediately raised the Cleansing Flame, summoning a surge of light that pierced the darkness around them.

"Now!" Aethren shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos. "We fight!"

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The battle erupted in an instant.

The figure, now more shadow than substance, lashed out with tendrils of darkness that writhed like serpents. Each strike felt like a cold, suffocating wind, as if the very air around them was being siphoned away. Aethren swung the Cleansing Flame, its light flaring with each arc of his blade, cutting through the black tendrils that came toward him.

Elyra was at his side in an instant, her sword flashing in the dim light as she slashed through the shadows. Her movements were precise, a testament to years of training and experience, but even she was forced to retreat at times as the shadows closed in on her, trying to pull her into the darkness.

Rhael stood back, his staff crackling with energy as he summoned a barrier of light to protect them from the onslaught. His eyes were focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he channeled power into the shield.

"Stay close!" Aethren barked as he deflected another wave of tendrils. "We need to stay together."

But the figure was relentless. It moved through the shadows as though it were part of them, its form flickering in and out of existence. Every time they struck, the darkness seemed to repair itself, as if it were healing.

"This thing’s not real," Thalira muttered, her voice strained. "It’s a projection, a fragment of the Void’s power!"

"We need to break its connection to the Void!" Rhael called out, his voice echoing in the chamber.

Aethren's mind raced. "How? How do we sever it?"

"Destroy the source!" Rhael shouted back. "The altar!"

Aethren’s eyes snapped to the dark altar at the center of the room. It was the focal point of the darkness—the anchor that kept the figure manifesting in the real world. If they could destroy the altar, they could cut off the flow of energy that sustained the figure.

But getting to it would be a challenge. The shadows surrounding the altar twisted violently, blocking any direct approach. The ground beneath their feet shook again, as though the very earth was being torn apart.

"We need to draw its attention!" Aethren yelled. "Elyra, Thalira, help me keep it distracted. Rhael, you’re with me!"

Elyra nodded, her eyes blazing with determination. "Got it."

With that, they charged. Elyra and Thalira fought side by side, their blades flashing through the air as they cut down shadow after shadow. Meanwhile, Aethren and Rhael made their way toward the altar, their movements quick and precise.

As they reached the altar, the figure appeared before them once more, its form flickering like a dying flame. "You think you can stop this?" it rasped. "You think you can end the inevitable?"

Aethren raised the Cleansing Flame high. "We’ll see about that."

With a powerful thrust, he plunged the blade into the altar. The moment the sword made contact, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the Cleansing Flame, and the entire chamber was filled with a blinding glow. The figure screamed, a sound that rattled the very bones of the earth.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The shadows flickered, the temperature plummeted, and the figure writhed in agony. Then, with a final, deafening crack, the altar shattered into a thousand pieces, its dark energy dispersing into the air like smoke.

The figure’s form disintegrated, dissolving into the darkness from which it had come.

Aethren collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Cleansing Flame flickered and dimmed, its glow fading with the death of the Void's presence.

"We… we did it," Rhael said, his voice quiet but full of disbelief.

Elyra approached, wiping the sweat from her brow. "For now."

Aethren stood, his legs unsteady beneath him. He looked around at the shattered altar, the remnants of the Void's influence still lingering in the air. "But it’s not over. It’s never over."

"Then we keep fighting," Thalira said firmly, her sword still at the ready.

Aethren nodded, his gaze hardening. "We will."