Lumi fluttered down from Erazon’s shoulder, her tiny wings buzzing with irritation as she peered into the gloom. “Really?” she muttered, though mischief danced in her tone. “You know you only get revived once, right?” Her face scrunched in distaste, mirroring the thoughts of those around her.
“Unless you’ve got a better route, we’re sticking to this one.” A wry smile tugged at Erazon’s lips, lightening the tension in his chest.
A dramatic sigh escaped from Lumi as she flitted over to Elizza’s shoulder. “Fine, but if we see any rats, I’m turning them into popsicles.”
Elizza chuckled and patted Lumi’s tiny head. Steadying herself, she traced the edges of the trapdoor. “Let’s get moving, then,” she said, her voice wavering.
One by one, they dropped into the sewers. A wide tunnel stretched before them, allowing them to walk in a line. The air was thick with the pungent odor of sewage and decay.
“Erazon, do you think... you could cast a light for me?” Elizza’s voice broke the silence, a hint of nervousness in her tone. “I could try, but... it’s too dark down here.”
He nodded, the power within him still surging. “I can handle it. Good chance to test out this wand.” Raising it, he focused on channeling his magic through it. A stream of molten fire spiraled outward, forming a floating ball above them. The glow cut through the gloom, revealing the grimy stonework and path ahead.
Steps slowed as they ventured deeper. “So,” Erazon began, trying to break the heavy silence, “Your home, the Mistwood...What happened there? I heard you speak of it briefly before.”
A glance passed between Godric and Elizza as they walked onward. “Our home,” Elizza began, her voice distant, “is where the elves live. It was beautiful—trees so tall, they seemed to touch the sky. And every morning, as the moon dipped below the horizon, tiny specks of magic fell from the leaves, forming a mist that nourished everything. We helped father collect it and he turned it into potions, like this one.” She held up a small bottle of shimmering blue liquid.
“That’s incredible,” Erazon replied, genuinely intrigued. “I’d love to see those trees someday. What made you leave?”
“Calamity.” Godric's voice was grim, his stare fixed ahead. “We never needed guards in the Mistwood. There was no violence, no crime—just peace. We traded goods across the kingdom. But then the king got greedy. Sent his guards, saying it was for our protection. Before we knew it, they were chopping down trees to build barracks and walls, taxing anyone who entered our city. And then... it got worse.”
“What happened?” Erazon’s brows furrowed as he listened. Their progress forward was slow as they cautiously moved together.
“Our city was built by the Goddess of Light, Aurelia,” Elizza said, her voice trembling. “Our Elder Wizard tried to expel the guards, but they brought the King’s mages. We elves mostly only knew healing and protection spells—not offensive magic. That’s how I earned the runes on my face. But anyway... we didn’t stand a chance. They burned most of the Mistwood forest, and if our elder hadn’t surrendered, they would have destroyed it entirely. So... we fled with our father.”
A bitter look crossed Godric’s face. “They brought a powerful lightning wizard and the Order of Crimson. The mages we saw at the depot—those were the ones who burned our home.”
Silence followed as Erazon lowered his head. I hope Solena wasn’t part of that... he thought, his heart pounding.
“What about your mother?” he asked, glancing at Elizza.
A shadow crossed her face. “I only saw her when I was little. She was a noble elf. Father doesn’t talk about her much; he just tears up. She... disappeared one day.”
“My mother..was different,” Godric interjected, his voice steady. “She lost her mind while searching for knowledge. In some tomb deep beneath the earth. I don’t remember much; it’s hard to get the old salt to talk about it. Elves there have red eyes and grey skin, like me. I do remember Elii's mother, though. She was... an angel. Always kind, full of laughter, and she guided me with a grace I’ve never seen in anyone else.”
A tense pause hung in the air, broken only by the echo of their footsteps. “What about you, Erazon?” Elizza asked, casting a glance over her shoulder. “We don’t know much about your past.”
He furrowed his brow. “I only remember... being chased by shadows and then waking up in a canoe where Godric found me. In Carlin, I had a vision of Lord Death. He told me I was something more than a wizard but wouldn’t explain. Then I had another vision of Aeolex, where he gave me this spellbook. Which... might have happened before the canoe if I can piece it together. The visions... they don’t make sense.”
A sudden rustling echoed from the tunnel ahead, interrupting his thoughts. The group halted, tense. Erazon raised his wand, brightening the flame, casting long shadows against the walls. They waited, but the sound faded into the steady drip of water.
"When I was training with Solena," Erazon continued, his voice quieter, "she sent me into a pit—like a pit of hell. I faced a demon, Pyridion, who told me the other gods were deceiving me."
His frustration was evident as he glanced between them. “I just... don’t have much I can tell you guys. I want to know who I really am. I want to know why I keep meeting the Nine, and what my path is supposed to be.”
“You’ve met... three of the Nine?” Elizza’s voice cut through the tension, filled with awe. “That’s... no small thing.”
Godric's jaw dropped. “I’ve never heard of anyone meeting one of the Nine, let alone three.”
“You’re special, Erazon,” Elizza added, her eyes wide. “It’s rare to see someone cast such magic—fireballs, mist, golden shields. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
“Only Wild-Wizard or guild leaders have shown that kind of power,” Godric noted, his gaze steady. “When I met you and saw those golden eyes... I never mentioned it but I have only seen them in two places.”
“Where?” Erazon tilted his head, curiosity sparking.
“Elii’s mother,” Godric replied quietly, “and you.”
“I’ve seen them in texts,” Elizza murmured. “Some of the gods have golden eyes, but I can’t recall which ones, aside from the lady of light.”
They pressed onward, their concern rising as the tunnel twisted and turned, narrowing into a tighter corridor. Godric led with calm assurance, his broad shoulders brushing against the damp walls. The darkness grew thicker around them, prompting Elizza to whisper a soft incantation. A cluster of glowing orbs appeared, hovering above like tiny stars, their gentle light pushing back the encroaching shadows.
The tunnel twisted sharply ahead, forcing them to slow their pace. “Stay close,” Godric muttered.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they trudged forward. Each step deepened the cold that seeped into their bones. The tunnel widened suddenly into an alcove, only to end at a solid stone wall.
A dead end.
"Impossible," Godric chortled, his jaw clenched. He pressed his palms against the wall, feeling for seams or indentations. “The Guild should be right here.”
Eyes scanning the walls, Elizza spoke with a hint of panic. "It can't just stop. Guilds do not hide their entrances in plain sight."
From above, Lumi fluttered downward, inspecting the base of the wall. “Wait,” she called out, pointing with a tiny hand. “This section here—it shimmers with ancient magic. Doesn’t match the rest.”
A faint glimmer caught Erazon’s attention. "An illusion," he whispered. "They’ve hidden the way with magic."
Kneeling, Godric ran his hands along the seams of the wall. His fingers traced over a small, nearly invisible notch. “This... isn’t right.”
“Try pressing it,” Elizza urged, tension tightening her voice.
Godric hesitated briefly before pushing his thumb into the notch. At first, nothing happened. Then, the wall rippled, distorting like water disturbed by a stone. The illusion wavered, revealing faint light seeping through the seams, forming intricate patterns across the stone.
Holding his breath, Erazon watched as the carvings shifted, rearranging themselves into new symbols. The wall groaned, stone grinding against stone, before it split open with a soft hiss. A rush of stale, cold air flowed out, carrying the scent of something long-hidden.
"Quickly," Erazon hissed, stepping into the passage. “Stay alert. This is only the beginning.”
They moved cautiously forward. The low ceiling forcing them to stoop as they progressed. The air grew dense with the scent of burnt wax and old magic, it stuck to their skin like a clammy fog.
A sudden rustle echoed through the space. Erazon whipped around, his eyes straining against the darkness. “Did you see that?” he hissed, but there was no need to ask. They all sensed it—something slithering just out of view, too quick and unnatural to be human. It crawled along the walls, its form warping in the flickering light like a nightmare made flesh.
The flame at the tip of Erazon’s wand sputtered and went out, plunging them into blackness. Panic surged through him as he fumbled to relight it, his fingers trembling.
“Danger,” Lumi whispered, her wings fluttering in agitation.
A scream tore through the chamber, sharp and desperate. “HELP!” The shriek belonged to Elizza, and Erazon spun just in time to see her face contorted in terror. Without warning, the ground beneath her feet gave way, a trapdoor opening to swallow her whole.
Godric lunged forward. “Elii!” His voice boomed, echoing through the chamber as he grasped at empty space. His calloused hands clutched at the air where his sister had stood, but it was too late. She had vanished into the shadows below.
“Light, now!” Erazon barked, raising his wand as adrenaline flooded his veins. The fireball he conjured flickered and sputtered, casting a dim, erratic light over the scene. The shadows writhed in response, retreating and advancing like waves.
Movement in the corner of his eye made his blood run cold. The creature—the twisted, dark shape they had glimpsed earlier—lunged from the shadows with a guttural hiss, its form distorting in the dim light. Erazon barely had time to react before the darkness surged toward them.
Driven by instinct, the smith leaped forward with a roar, his hammer swinging in a wide arc. But the creature was quick, evading the strike with a fluid motion that seemed almost unnatural. The hammer smashed into the ground, but it hit nothing but air. The creature retaliated, lashing out with tendrils of darkness that wrapped around Godric, pulling him off balance.
“Get down!” Erazon shouted, his voice tight with fear and urgency. The panic in Godric’s eyes was unmistakable as he struggled against the tendrils cutting into his skin. Without thinking, Erazon launched his floating ball of fire directly at the creature. The flame surged through the air, illuminating the chamber with a sudden, fierce trail of light.
The fireball struck the shadow, and for a moment, the darkness recoiled as if in pain. The wand in the mages hand thrummed with power as he poured more of his energy into the spell. The fire flashed with bright golden energy, consuming the shrieking shadow bit by bit until it finally dissolved into a cloud of smoke, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of burnt hair.
Breathing heavily, Erazon turned to his companion, who was still catching his breath. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice shaky but relieved.
“Aye, I’m fine. But Elizza—where is she?” The stoic figure panted, his usually steady hands trembling slightly as he wiped sweat from his brow.
A faint cry reached their ears, echoing from below. Erazon’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice, filled with relief. “Heeeey, I need help down here!”
They hurried to the edge of the trapdoor, peering down into the darkness. Far below, they could just make out Elizza, clinging to Lumi, who was flapping her wings furiously to keep them both from crashing to the pit of spikes beneath. The pixie’s tiny face was flushed with effort, but she managed a weak smile as she saw them.
“I’m stuck! We need help getting back up!” she called out, her voice strained. “Quickly, there’s a spell I can teach you! It’s a magic rope spell—I think you can do it!”
A knot tightened in the Mistwalker’s throat as he swallowed hard, the gravity of the moment sinking in. “Tell me what to do!” he shouted, desperation edging his voice.
“Focus on intent!” Her voice cracked but stayed clear. “Picture something strong and reliable. When you swoosh your wand, envision the rope in your mind, and feel the word on your tongue as you chant, Luxia. You must believe in its strength! You’ve got this!”
He grimaced, gripping the wand tighter. Eyes closing, Erazon centered himself, letting the word echo in his mind as he concentrated. He envisioned a rope forming in the air, solid and unbreakable.
With a swoosh of his wand, he swung it through the air, channeling all his focus into the incantation. “Luxia!”
From the tip of the wand, a thick, shimmering rope materialized, glowing silver in the dim light. It uncoiled with a life of its own, descending steadily into the trap until it reached them.
“You did it!” Elizza gasped, grabbing the rope with wide eyes. She began to climb, Lumi clutching onto her shoulder, her wings fluttering weakly before the pixie dozed off in exhausted sleep.
They held the rope steady, watching every movement as she pulled herself up. When she finally reached the top, Elizza collapsed on the ground, panic subsiding yet wearing a grateful smile.
“Thank you,” she said, looking between them. “You saved us.”
Erazon smiled as he extended a hand to help Elizza up, the challenge of what lay ahead still evident in his eyes. “That was close. You could have... well, let’s not dwell on it.”
As she steadied herself, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Good thing we’ve got a pixie. Stay close to me—I can’t have you getting hurt now.” Elizza nodded, adjusting her cloak and smoothing her dress before lightly holding onto his arm, her touch both cautious and comforting.
They pushed onward, the air growing colder with each step into the depths of the Guild. Shivering, the cleric wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. "I can see my breath," she whispered, her words misting in the frigid air.
Ancient carvings and murals lined the walls, each one recounting a fragment of the Guild’s history. One mural, in particular, drew their attention—a depiction of the God of Death standing beside another figure. The scene illustrated a balance, a harmonious cooperation between two thriving cities. It felt almost peaceful. But as they moved along the mural, the story darkened. A horned figure loomed above, once an ally but now turned against Lord Death. The final image was a city engulfed in shadow, the word Nox etched ominously above.
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At the end of the chamber stood two statues, guarding a large door. One statue depicted Lord Death, a skeletal figure draped in regal robes, holding a scythe and pointing toward an engraved emblem of the City of Night. The second statue, labeled in ancient text as Nox, directed its gaze toward a skull.
Erazon’s breath caught. "That’s Nox," he whispered, awe and dread mingling in his tone. "The one who betrayed Lord Death... And that city..." His eyes widened as realization dawned. "It must be Magnatar, the one he plunged into shadow."
Lumi stirred from her nap, raising her head groggily, her brow furrowed in sleepy confusion. Squinting at the statues, she remarked, "He’s the God of death, not shadow. Shouldn't he be pointing at the skull?" Then, just as quickly, she drifted back to sleep, a bubble of snot forming as she exhaled softly.
Suppressing a smile at Lumi’s antics, the half-elven girl examined the statues more closely. Tugging lightly at Erazon’s arm, she glanced up at him. “What if we try rotating the statue?” she suggested, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
The chamber darkened as the statues of the grim reaper and Nox, the horned god of shadows, moved into position. Lord Death’s statue erupted into a spectral green fire, glowing like the flames of the underworld. Nox’s statue darkened, black as the night itself, with shadows swirling around it like a living storm. The statues were immense, towering twice the height of any man, their movement causing the ground to tremble and rubble to rain down from their stone forms.
The first attack came without warning. The reaper’s scythe cleaved through the air, a blur of deadly force. Godric braced himself, still feeling the remnants of the Golem’s Heart enhancing his size and strength. Yet he felt it slipping away, his body shrinking back to its natural form with each passing moment. His hammer struck the statue’s leg, but the blow had no effect. The sentinel’s stone was too thick, too strong. His heart sank as the realization dawned that brute force alone would not save them.
Meanwhile, the group was scattered in disarray as Elizza found herself cornered by Nox’s statue. The ground beneath her feet gave way as a pit of shadows opened, and from it, ghouls emerged, their eyes glowing with malevolent light. Tendrils of darkness shot up from the ground, wrapping around her body, constricting her arms and legs. Her breath caught in her throat as the ghouls closed in, their jagged teeth gnashing.
With a sudden and powerful strike, the Grim statues' scythe sent Godric flying across the chamber. His body slammed into the wall, a sickening crack following as his arm broke under the impact. Pain shot through him like wildfire, but he pushed himself to his feet, his temporary strength now fully waned. Across the room, Elizza struggled in the grip of Nox’s tendrils, her wand slipping from her fingers as the ghouls began to bite into her arm. She cried out in pain. “Erazon! Help!”
Erazon, wand and spellbook in hand, hurled fireballs at the Grim Reaper statue. “Elizza, hold on!” They fizzled out on impact, leaving the sentinel unharmed. Before he could react, the statue’s scythe came down again, smashing him into the ground. His head felt cracked from the blow, causing him to lose consciousness for a brief moment. The weight of the statue’s foot stepped onto him, crushing the air from his lungs. He tried to push back, but his body was trapped, immobilized under the immense pressure. Every breath was agony.
Godric rose to his feet, clutching his broken arm, pain pulsing through him with every heartbeat. “Stay strong Elii!” He saw Erazon trapped, struggling beneath the weight of the Grim Reaper, his bones beginning to crack.
At the same time, he saw his sister, wrapped in shadows, her body being dragged closer to Nox’s towering form. The ghouls slashed at her limbs, and her desperate cries echoed in his ears as they bit into her. “I-can’t!” She screamed in agony.
Torn between his allies, Godric hesitated. Erazon’s scream pierced the chaos, “Get..Elizza! I’ll be..fine!” He gasped, not believing his own words as they echoed off the empty stone walls.
“Feel the..core inside..you!” Erazon yelled through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. “Strike with magic. Godric!”
His chest tightened as he saw his sister, wrapped in the suffocating tendrils of shadow. Her cries were barely audible over the chaos of the battle. Across the chamber, Erazon was pinned, his body convulsing in agony. The sight of his friends in such peril tore at Godric’s soul, his breath quickening as desperation took hold. His hammer hung heavy in his grip, feeling more like an anchor dragging him down.
For as long as he could remember, magic had been a force closed off to him, a barrier he could never cross. He had watched others wield it effortlessly, bending the world with a mere flick of their hands. But not him. No matter how much he trained, no matter the countless hours spent trying, magic had always remained just out of reach. The best he could do was repair armor as a blacksmith.
"I can’t... I’ve never been able to... What if I fail again?"
The thought gnawed at him, sinking deep into his heart. A lifetime of doubts weighed heavy on his mind, telling him to give up, to accept his limitations. His hammer had proven useless against these monstrous statues, and now, with his arm broken, even his strength was failing. What hope did he have?
Hopelessness crept in. His sister—the one person he had sworn to protect—was slipping away before his very eyes.
"I can’t save her."
The thought echoed, cutting deep. His mind flashed to a vision he had dreaded for as long as he could remember: Elizza, lifeless, her body cold, the light in her eyes extinguished. The weight of that failure crushed him, and his chest heaved under the burden of choice. Torn between Erazon and his sister, his heart wavered. He had to act. Now.
But as his eyes fixed onto his sister's terrified face, something snapped inside him. A fire ignited deep within, burning through the despair.
"I won’t let this happen. Not today. Not Elii."
His grip tightened on the handle of his hammer, his knuckles white with strain. But now, facing death, doubt had no place. He had to try—anything to save her. He wouldn’t stand by, helpless, and watch her die.
He closed his eyes for a moment, envisioning the scene before him. She was gasping for breath as the ghouls clawed at her, the tendrils pulling her deeper into Nox’s grasp. He saw Erazon, pinned beneath the Grim Reaper, bones cracking under the pressure. In his mind’s eye, he glimpsed something else—a distant spark of power flickering, waiting to be channeled.
"Damn it all. I have to try."
He cast aside the doubt that had chained him for so long. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the belief that magic was beyond him. He reached within himself, searching for any fragment of power that might lie dormant. At first, there was nothing. Only silence. Then, faint as a whisper, he felt it—a whisper of energy at the edge of his consciousness. Weak. But it was there.
"Come on!" he willed himself, heart pounding. He imagined lightning—the way it crackled through the sky, wild and unstoppable. He needed that power. He could almost feel it, just beyond his grasp.
Then, the spark ignited.
Lightning flickered along the edge of his hammer, faint at first, then growing brighter with each passing second. It crackled, alive with raw energy as he channeled his will into it. The air around him buzzed with power. It was real. For the first time in his life, magic surged forth, answering his call.
His eyes snapped open, ablaze. With a roar, Godric charged at Nox’s statue, his doubts falling away. The first strike came down with all his strength, but the blow glanced off the statue’s form, the lightning sputtering as it struck. The stone barely moved.
Godric’s heart sank, despair threatening to return. But inside, something—rage, desperation, love—flared to life. He couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t let failure define him. Not when everything he loved was at stake.
Summoning the strength he had left, he raised the hammer once more. Lightning surged along its surface as he roared, and with a primal scream, brought the hammer crashing down.
This time, the magic arced brighter, wrapping the hammer in a storm of energy. The strike hit true. The statue staggered, the tendrils around Elizza retreating as their grip loosened. She gasped for air, freed from the shadows that had nearly claimed her.
But the battle wasn’t over. Ghouls encircled them, claws slashing at her trembling green shield. She struggled to keep it intact, her face pale, tears streaking her cheeks as the barrier flickered under their relentless assault.
"No more running," Godric thought, his body surging with energy he had never believed he could wield. "No more doubt. No more fear."
Meanwhile, Erazon lay pinned beneath the crushing weight of the statue. The flames from the sentinel’s legs crept across his chest, scorching his skin. Agony gripped him, but his mind raced, desperate for an escape. Every nerve screamed for relief, but there was none. Only the searing heat, the growing weight, and the voice—dark and insidious—whispering into his mind.
It was the death magic, slithering through his thoughts, coiling around his consciousness like a serpent tightening its grip.
"End it all."
At first, the words were soft, barely a whisper. But with each second, they grew louder. "Why struggle? End their lives. You have the power—erase everything in this room."
His golden eyes flared to life, burning with an intense light as the magic coursed through him. His vision sharpened beyond the physical realm. He saw magic pulsing in the air, threads of power intertwined with reality itself. More than that, he saw the souls of those around him.
The statues were cloaked in dark auras, twisted and malevolent, anchored by the talismans at their cores. But then his eyes swept over his friends. He saw Godric’s soul, a flickering light, burning with ferocity despite his broken arm and battered body. Elizza’s aura was there too, weakened but still fighting, her tears mixing with her resolve.
The death magic hissed again, more demanding now. "Their souls... You could take them. Feed off their life. Their power is yours."
For a moment, he hesitated. The power was intoxicating, the promise of control pulling him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He could end it all—the statues, the ghouls, even his friends—so easily.
"No!" The thought roared through him, defiant against the encroaching darkness. "They are my friends. I will not let this corrupt me."
His golden eyes flared brighter, rejecting the magic’s pull, but the whispers persisted. "They are weak. You could be more. You could be a god. Take their souls."
Through the pain, through the darkness, his mind sharpened. Eyes locked onto the statue above him. He saw not just stone but the talisman within—the source of its life force. The magic screamed for destruction, but Erazon knew he had to control it.
"Focus." His voice was a whisper, his breath shallow but steady. His golden eyes seared through the stone, straight to the core. It pulsed with dark energy, but now, it was vulnerable.
"Destroy it. Destroy only this."
With a final burst of power, Erazon gave in—not to total destruction, but to the focused fury of the death magic. He sent it spiraling deep into the statue. The stone groaned as the energy consumed it from within, tearing the insides apart. The magic surged outward, splitting the stone.
The statue of Lord Death shattered, its towering form reduced to rubble.
But there was no time to rest. As the dust settled, Erazon’s gaze snapped to his friends. His vision, still burning with power, revealed everything in sharp detail. The shadow men, glowing orange eyes ablaze, circled Godric and Elizza. Godric’s aura flickered, his arm limp, yet his spirit unbroken. Elizza’s shield was barely holding, her face streaked with suffering.
Erazon locked onto Nox’s statue, seeing through the swirling shadows to its heart. The talisman’s power radiated outward like a black sun. The death magic surged again, urging him to destroy everything, but he fought it, channeling the raw energy with precision, forcing it to obey his will. He would not be a slave to its dark allure.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as his wand snapped through the air. A jet of liquid purple smoke surged from its tip, cutting through the atmosphere with grave intent. It engulfed Nox’s statue, seeping into the stone, melting it away inch by inch. His focus never wavered, eyes locked on the dark core deep within. A final crack reverberated as the stone crumbled, unleashing a wave of energy.
The entire room pulsed with the backlash, the surge of broken magic sending tremors through the walls. Sensing the shift, Godric slammed his hammer into the ground, a crackling wave of lightning coursing through the earth.
Elizza shrieked as electricity tore through the ghouls, disintegrating their twisted forms into ash. The shadow men, flickering and weakening, stood no chance as Elizza, her strength returning, unleashed a bolt of pure light that cut through the remaining darkness.
Silence fell, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors.
Collapsed onto the stone floor, Erazon trembled with exhaustion. Though his body was battered and the whispers of death still clung to the edges of his mind, he had remained in control. He was not consumed. He had stayed true to himself.
With a heavy exhale, Godric dropped to his knees, his broken arm hanging useless at his side. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a deep ache that spread through his entire body. Yet beneath the pain, there was an unshakable feeling of triumph. He had wielded magic. He had saved his sister. He had fought back the tide of darkness.
Tears streaked down Elizza’s cheeks as she stood, trembling from exhaustion. Her green shield flickered and faded, and she wiped her face with shaky hands. The shock of the battle lingered in her wide eyes as they darted between her brother and Erazon, struggling to process what had just happened.
Breaking the tension, Lumi chirped from Elizza’s shoulder, her bright energy cutting through the silence.
“GAH! A ghoul tried to eat me!”
A smile, faint but genuine, tugged at Godric’s lips. “Yeah, Lumi… guess you’re not on the menu.”
The fragile sense of relief settled over them, but the exhaustion was heavy in the air. Reaching into her pouch, Elizza pulled out a small vial of glowing blue liquid, her hands trembling as she offered it to Erazon. “Here, drink this. It’ll help you recover.”
A gentle shake of his head followed, Erazon’s voice steady despite his fatigue. “No. You need it more. Use it to heal Godric—his arm’s really torn up, we’ll need him at full strength.”
Though hesitant, she nodded, uncorking the mana potion and drinking it swiftly. As the magic flowed back into her body, she knelt beside her brother, placing hands over his mangled arm. Healing energy began to pulse from her fingertips, a soft warmth spreading through his arm as the bone and sinew knitted themselves back together.
Relief flooded his face as the pain eased. Flexing his fingers, Godric tested his arm and gave her a grateful smile. “Much better. I owe you one.”
Elizza managed a tired reply, rolling her eyes slightly. “You always do. Just try not to break anything else, alright?”
For a brief moment, silence filled the chamber. They stood together, surrounded by the debris of battle, catching their breath. The thick air still hummed with the echoes of magic, but for now, they had a moment of reprieve. Bodies ached, but their spirits remained unbroken.
Casting a glance toward the still-open doorway, Erazon noticed the ominous crimson light spilling into the tunnel beyond. “We don’t have much time,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The sorcerer’s still trapped. We need to keep moving.”
Godric tightened his grip on his hammer, the weight of it now feeling different, knowing magic had finally answered his call. He squared his shoulders, determination hardening his expression. “Let’s finish this.”
Fully composed once more, Elizza scanned their surroundings before stepping closer to Erazon, latching onto his arm for safety. Her touch was subtle, but enough for him to briefly glance at her, feeling a quiet warmth from her company despite the tension that loomed over them. “Here we go,” she said, resolve clear in her eyes.
Without another word, the trio pressed forward, the crimson light intensifying as they neared the chamber beyond. The red glow pulsed rhythmically, like the slow, ominous heartbeat of an unseen giant. Ancient symbols lined the walls, etched deep into the stone, faintly glowing with the same crimson hue that reflected the eerie light of the massive crystal at the center.
Dominating the room was the towering red crystal, jagged and foreboding. Suspended within, the dwarven wizard appeared frozen in time, his body locked in a moment of agony. His eyes—wide and alert—tracked their every movement, filled with both desperation and hope as he silently pleaded for release.
Extending from the crystal’s base, thick black chains burrowed deep into the chamber walls. These chains pulsed with dark energy, not just restraining the sorcerer but siphoning his life force, feeding the very prison that held him captive.
Despite the weariness that clung to them after the battle, Godric moved forward, his boots echoing in the silence.
“We’ll get you out of here,” he vowed, his voice hoarse but resolute.
Keeping a cautious distance from the chains, Erazon approached, letting his fingers brush one of them briefly before recoiling from the icy chill that seeped into his skin. These weren’t mere bindings—they drained life.
“If we break these chains, it might weaken the prison,” he said, though doubt laced his words. The ancient magic binding this place was dangerous, and tampering with it could bring unforeseen consequences.
Godric hefted his hammer, summoning what little strength remained in him. His muscles ached with fatigue, but he remained unbroken. “Then let’s hurry and get him out of this damned place.”
Trembling from exhaustion, Elizza stepped forward, examining the chains with cautious precision. She traced the intricate symbols etched into the metal, her mind working through the complex magic that bound them.
“These are old enchantments… dangerous,” she murmured, more to herself than to the others, as she searched for weak points.
Together, they gathered around the chains, bracing for one final effort. With little energy left, they knew this was the last barrier, the only thing standing between them and freeing the sorcerer. Erazon, despite his own weariness, stood tall beside his companions, a silent understanding passing between them—they were stronger together. Each stepped forward to a chain, steeling themselves for what lay ahead.
“Ready?” Erazon said, his voice steady, though the weight of the room bore down on them all. “On my count. Two... One... Strike!”
A roar of effort escaped Erazon as he grasped one of the chains. Letting it siphon his power, he forced pure fire into it, the heat of his magic pushing it to a molten red. The metal glowed fiercely before disintegrating, the dark energy that fed it snuffed out.
Godric, summoning every last bit of strength he had left, raised his hammer high. His muscles screamed in protest, but he brought it down with all his might. The chain shattered under the blow, sending a blast of sparks through the chamber. Though it knocked him back a step, the chain was broken, its enchantments dissipating into the air.
Exhausted but focused, Elizza turned her attention to the final chain. Murmuring a spell under her breath, she wove light into the chain, forcing it to buckle and bend. The metal groaned under the pressure until, with a final surge of power, it snapped, breaking into shimmering fragments.
With the chains gone, the room seemed to tremble. The last of the restraints fell away from the crystal, leaving the dwarven sorcerer suspended in wavering light.
Suddenly, Lumi shot forward from Elizza’s shoulder, her wings buzzing anxiously. “Hurry! Something’s coming!”
A wave of dread washed over Erazon as her warning rang out. He could feel it too—a dark presence, distant but approaching fast, drawn to the disruption they had caused.
“The crystal!” he shouted, urgency tightening his voice. Rushing forward, he placed his hands on the crystal’s cold surface, feeling the resistance of the magic still holding the sorcerer in place.
Without hesitation, the siblings joined him, each placing their hands on the crystal. They funneled their remaining strength into one final, desperate push, their combined will focused on breaking through the last barrier. The crystal shuddered under the pressure, cracks spider-webbing across its surface.
With a thunderous crack, the crystal exploded, dissolving into dust.
The dwarven wizard collapsed to his knees, his ancient robes shimmering faintly as the aftershock of his release rippled through him. He looked up, eyes sharp with irritation and relief.
“Well, it’s about time!” he grumbled, brushing off the remaining shards of crystal from his robes. “Blasted fools thought they could keep me locked away. They’ve no idea what they’ve unleashed.”
Before any of them could respond, the temperature dropped sharply, a foreboding energy permeating the chamber.
Orlithar’s expression darkened, his gaze hardening. “Seems we’ve got company,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
Tensing, they braced themselves for whatever came next. “Stay sharp,” Erazon whispered, eyes scanning the room. “This isn’t over.”