Chapter Twenty-One: Wrath, Rage, and Honor

The cavernous hall stretched before them like a sanctuary built for gods, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Towering stone columns, as thick as ancient trees, soared toward unseen heights, their intricate carvings telling long-forgotten tales of war and magic. Every footstep echoed faintly, swallowed by the vastness of the chamber. At the far end, a foreboding stone door loomed, sealed tight, with glowing red veins snaking across its black surface. These veins pulsed in unison with those that coiled ominously around the dark altar before it.

The words etched into the stone floor flickered, shifting as if alive: Blood is the key.

"Blood?" Godric muttered, his gaze fixed on the inscription. His thoughts raced. Did it mean a literal sacrifice? His eyes flicked to the massive creature now lumbering toward them, its eyes burning with a hellish fire. Which one of us... is giving the blood?

A low rumble filled the chamber as the golem stepped into full view, its hollow, fiery gaze locked on them. Something disturbingly sentient stirred within those eyes, as if it knew exactly what they were—and exactly what it intended to do. The grotesque nature of its presence crashed over them like a tidal wave, suffocating and terrifying.

A sudden, piercing scream shattered the air.

The sound was not just a noise—it was a jagged tear through reality, more like a physical force. It slammed into them, a wave of pure, bone-rattling agony. Godric dropped to his knees, hands flying to his ears in a vain attempt to block it out. The sound drilled into his skull, shuddering through his bones like an earthquake of torment and death. His heart pounded with raw, primal fear—something he hadn’t felt in years.

Beside him, Solena gasped, her wand slipping from her grasp as she collapsed, her body wracked by the unholy wail. Erazon staggered, his face ashen, his knuckles white as he struggled to stay upright, his entire body shaking under the pressure of the sound.

It wasn’t just noise—it was despair given form, clawing at their souls.

And then, just as abruptly, the wail ceased, leaving the chamber silent. Only their ragged breaths filled the air, broken by the steady, doom-laden footfalls of the approaching giant.

Grinding his teeth, Godric forced himself to stand, his body still trembling from the aftershock of the scream. The familiar weight of his blacksmith hammer offered small comfort, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the dread crawling up his spine. This creature... it was not just another foe. Worse, it wasn’t alone.

A bone-chilling clatter echoed through the hall as skeletal warriors poured in through a shattered wall behind the creature. Their hollow eyes glowed with the same menacing red light, and the rusted clink of their weapons sent a pang of dread through the chamber. Behind them, hunched ghouls slithered forward, their long claws scraping against the stone with sickening screeches, red auras pulsating with twisted, vile energy.

The ground quaked under the golem’s heavy steps as it raised its jagged axe, dark energy seething from the blade like smoke. There was no time to plan. No time to think.

"Now!" Solena’s voice cut through the tension, and with a sharp cry, she thrust her hand forward. Flames erupted from her fingertips in a roaring torrent, slamming into the front ranks of the skeletal warriors. The heat was blistering, and the undead crumbled into ash under the fiery assault. Bones splintered, skulls cracked, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like they were gaining control.

But the horde kept coming. Undead spilled from the breach in the wall like an unending tide of death. The ghouls, unaffected by the flames, slithered closer, their eyes glowing brighter, their twisted forms moving with a feral speed. Solena eyed her companions warily, wondering if they could even hope to survive this unexpected onslaught.

Beside her, golden energy flared as Erazon raised his wand, summoning bolts of pure light. The projectiles zipped through the air, striking ghouls and skeletons with pinpoint precision, reducing them to smoldering piles of bone and flesh. His movements were swift, each blast perfectly timed, but no matter how many fell, more emerged from the darkness, their numbers endless. Desperation crept into his precise, practiced movements, his magic flaring with greater intensity as each cast drained him further. The cost of relying on my own strength... it’s not enough, he thought bitterly, his stamina waning.

Solena swirled her wand in a desperate arc, summoning a wall of pure flame that erupted at the breach. For a moment, the skeletal warriors recoiled from the heat, and even the ghouls hesitated.

But the golem did not.

It stood, unfazed, its armor glowing red-hot but otherwise untouched by her desperate flames. Her efforts, though valiant, were little more than whispers against the beast’s overwhelming presence.

A deafening clash reverberated through the chamber as Godric swung his hammer upward, meeting the golem’s massive axe. Lightning crackled wildly along the length of his weapon, illuminating the room in bursts of blue and white as dark energy collided with raw fury. Sparks exploded from the impact, lighting the air with violent brilliance.

Every muscle in Godric’s body strained as he pushed back with all his might. His arms shook, his body shaking under the immense weight of the golem’s strength. A guttural growl escaped the creature as it roared, shoving him back with brute force. The warrior was hurled through the air, slamming into a stone pillar with bone-rattling impact. The pillar cracked beneath him, the blow knocking the wind from his lungs. For a moment, the world swam before his eyes as pain shot through his body like wildfire.

Vision blurred, he forced himself to focus. This thing... it’s more powerful than anything we’ve ever faced. His chest heaved as he struggled to gather his strength. I can’t do this alone.

Across the chamber, his companions exchanged a fearful glance. They both knew it. The golem was too fast, too strong.They needed to hold it back, giving Godric the time he desperately needed to recover.

But the horde showed no sign of stopping. Ghouls crawled through the flames, their claws scraping against the floor as they closed in, eyes burning with ravenous hunger.

Why won’t they burn? Panic surged within Solena as she threw everything she had into the fire. Her once-roaring flames sputtered uselessly against the relentless undead. My fire... It should work! Why aren’t they dying? Her heart pounded, fear gnawing at her resolve, but she forced it aside, fighting to steady her mind. The fire licked at her face, its heat stifling and overwhelming, yet still it wasn’t enough.

She closed her eyes, reaching deep within herself. I need to be stronger! Her hands trembled as she delved deep into the well of her magic, grasping desperately for more power. Heat surged through her veins, rushing to her fingertips. Her skin began to burn—warning signs flashing in her mind—but she pushed past the pain, refusing to stop.

This pain is nothing. We have to survive.

The flames roared higher, scorching the ghouls’ twisted forms, but still, they pressed forward, undeterred. She bit her lip, refusing to let the agony distract her. Keep pushing. Keep going... even if it burns me alive.

Erazon raised his wand, his hand glowing with light as he summoned his faithful shield. The golem, now weaponless, discarded its broken axe without hesitation. Dark magic dripped ominously from its claws as it turned its deadly focus on them.

A monstrous snarl tore through the air as the undead figure closed the gap between them in an instant. Its talons slashed downward, smashing into Erazon’s shield with such force that he was thrown to the ground, gasping for breath. The shield, already weakened, splintered like fragile glass under the crushing impact.

This beast... it’s too strong! Panic gripped him as he struggled to rise, the weight of the golem’s strike still resonating in his chest. He could feel the shield’s power slipping away, thoughts of fear creeping into his mind as he tried to reinforce it. I’m doing everything Orlithar taught me. I’m focusing, drawing from within, relying on my own strength... His fist clenched as another crack splintered across the shimmering barrier. Why isn’t it enough?

“Erazon!” Solena’s voice rang with desperation as she barely dodged the golem’s next strike, its heavy steps crushing the air around them.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to move, to fix his cracking shield. But it was no use. Dark whispers slithered into his mind, coiling around his thoughts like poison. Take their souls... Use their power. The voices hissed, urging him toward a darker path.

“No!” he growled, clenching his teeth in defiance. But the whispers grew louder, tugging at the edges of his will. He fought to stand, but fear paralyzed him. The creature was too much for them.

The grotesque figure loomed above, its fiery gaze locked onto him, claws dripping with dark energy, poised to deliver the killing blow. Godric was still recovering, and Solena was barely holding the horde at bay. Erazon stared into the creature’s unblinking eyes as it attacked again. He was stuck in paralysis. His power failed him.

The shield shattered in a burst of light and energy. He gasped as the beast’s claws struck his chest with devastating force, driving the breath from him. His eyes squeezed shut, terror flooding his body. Is this the end?

Desperate and screaming in frustration, Solena hurled fireballs at the golem, but it didn’t flinch. Her attacks were useless. The undead closed in, their weapons raised, the ground trembling under their advance.

There’s nothing left.

Her hands trembled. Time was running out, and the undead were nearly upon her. Panic clutched at Solena’s chest, choking her thoughts. What can I do? Desperation gnawed at her. “Erazon, wake up!” she screamed, but he remained motionless, unconscious since his shield had shattered. We should have never come here.

Across the chamber, Godric staggered to his feet, each movement a reminder of the brutal blow that had hurled him into the pillar. His breath came in staggered gasps, but as his vision cleared, his eyes found his companions—desperate, surrounded, on the edge of destruction. And there, standing over them, loomed the monster.

Time slowed as the scene unfolded before him. The golem’s claws hovered over Erazon, poised to deliver the fatal strike. Solena’s flames flickered weakly against the endless tide of undead. The skeletal warriors pressed in closer, their soulless eyes locked on their prey.

They’re going to die. Godric’s mind filled with guilt. I brought them here to save Elii. Now I’ve damned them. His strength had failed. He had failed.

Pain radiated through his battered body, but it paled in comparison to the agony of watching his friends slip toward death. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

His grip tightened around the hammer as his thoughts raced. Anger, sharp and cold, simmered beneath the surface—rage he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. What good is all this strength if I can’t save them?

Every failure, every loss, every drop of blood spilled in vain surged to the forefront of his mind, igniting something far more dangerous than fear. I won’t watch them die. I won’t let this happen!

And then, something inside him snapped.

This wasn’t panic. This wasn’t helplessness. It was the breaking of old chains, the shattering of self-imposed limits. In its place came a wave of pure, unrelenting rage—raw and unstoppable. It coursed through him, burning away the pain, silencing every doubt.

His fist clenched so tightly it felt as though his bones might crack. His thoughts sharpened, no longer scattered, but focused with brutal clarity. The runes etched into his face—symbols that had haunted him for years—suddenly flared to life, burning against his skin. The power he had always reached for but never grasped surged into existence, demanding release.

Enough.

There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. The fury within him fused with the awakened power, driving him forward. I am not done. I am not broken. I am not powerless!

Energy crackled through his hammer, its form shifting in his hands, reshaping into something vast and unstoppable. His armor pulsed with heat, glowing with the fury he channeled, as if it too had been waiting for this moment.

They will not die this day. I will not allow it.

This was no battle cry. This wasn’t a plea. It was the warrior’s call.

Godric’s hammer, once a simple tool, pulsed in his grip, the metal warping as the power demanded to be unleashed. Sparks danced across its surface, and the air crackled with energy. The hammer’s head expanded, reshaping itself by sheer will, becoming something greater, forged in the furnace of his defiance.

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His armor, now glowing with molten heat, pulsed with the same fury running through his veins. The burden of it’s heavy weight was gone, replaced by the raw sensation of power—lightning crackling beneath his skin, surging through his muscles, igniting every nerve. Every breath made him faster, stronger—a living weapon.

His eyes blazed with wrath as he moved, faster than anything his size should ever move. Each step shattered the stone beneath him, the ground fracturing under the force of his fury.

He roared, the sound reverberating through the cavern—not just a battle cry, but a proclamation of pure, unrelenting force. With both hands, he swung the warhammer. The blow descended like a thunderstorm, crashing into the golem’s back with a violence that echoed through the chamber. Stone cracked. Lightning arced through the golem’s massive form, raw energy tearing through its body.

For the first time, the golem staggered.

But it did not fall.

The undead creature turned with a furious roar, its hollow eyes locking onto Godric. The two titans faced each other, evenly matched in power. Dark magic crackled in the air as the creature lashed out with its claws. Godric dodged, his movements as fast as the lightning coursing through him, and brought his hammer up to meet the next attack.

Their clash sent waves of energy tearing through the chamber, wild arcs of lightning illuminating the space. Ghouls disintegrated in the chaos, their bodies incinerated by stray bolts of electricity. But even with his immense strength, the golem was relentless, its strikes just as brutal, just as unyielding. It would not fall by brute force alone.

Meanwhile, Solena fought desperately beside Erazon, her power nearly spent. How much longer can I hold them off? Her heart pounded as she channeled the last of her magic through her wand.

Without warning, a skeletal blade slashed across her back, tearing through her dress and splitting her skin. She screamed in pain, stumbling forward as black ichor seeped from the wound. Each heartbeat sent the poison deeper, burning her from the inside.

Whirling around, she blasted the skeleton into a thousand pieces with a burst of fire, but it was too late. The sickness was already taking hold.

It’s not enough. Her vision blurred, her strength fading as the undead pressed closer, their weapons raised to strike.

“Godric!” Her voice cracked with desperation. “We’re at our limit! We need to get out of here!”

The warrior, still locked in brutal combat with the golem, snarled in response. His eyes burned with unyielding fury as he deflected another bone-shattering blow. “There’s no way out!” he roared, his voice raw. The chamber shook with every strike, his warhammer clashing against the golem’s claws, sending power coursing through the stone floor.

The golem pressed harder, but Godric pressed back, refusing to give an inch. His muscles screamed in agony, each strike sending bolts of pain through him. But the pain was nothing compared to his fury. “If you’ve got limits…” His growl was full of raw defiance as the golem’s next strike slammed into his warhammer, nearly forcing him to his knees. But Godric didn’t falter. He never would. “…then BREAK THEM!”

Without thinking, he reached into his belt and hurled a vial toward Solena. She caught it, her hands steady despite the panic surging through her. Erazon has to rise. He has to fight.

The undead swarmed from all sides—skeletons with rusted weapons, ghouls clawing at the ground. Solena, her magic nearly drained, gritted her teeth and unleashed the remnants of her power in a desperate burst of fire. Flames surged outward, obliterating the skeletons, turning them to ash. But the ghouls, unfazed by the fire, were only thrown back, hissing as they regrouped for another attack.

The burst bought her a few precious seconds, but it was all she had left. Her hands burned from the effort, her magic nearly gone, but still she refused to stop. I have to protect him. I have to buy him more time.

Solena’s body trembled with exhaustion as she transformed her wand into a flaming sword. With a final surge, she summoned a shield of fire around herself and Erazon—a flickering, fragile barrier barely holding back the horde. The skeletons recoiled from the heat, their brittle bones disintegrating, but the ghouls pressed on, their claws scraping at the fiery shield, waiting for it to fail.

She knelt beside him, her hands shaking, and poured the potion into his mouth. “Come on… please…” Her voice was barely a whisper, cracked with desperation. His face remained pale, his body limp, drained of life by the golem’s brutal blows.

There’s no time. She rose to her feet, her back searing with pain from her wound. She slashed at the nearest skeletons breaking through the shield, their bones shattering into ash. Yet the fire around them was barely a barrier now, and the ghouls pressed closer, their hunger insatiable.

Tears blurred her vision as her strength ebbed. There are too many. I’m not good enough.

Solena’s vision blurred as she fought back tears. She had given everything, poured every last ounce of magic into protecting them. She glanced down at his still form, the empty mana potion rolling away from her grasp. The crushing reality of their situation hit her, despair welling up in her chest.

“Is this… where we die?” The words spilled from her lips as her strength faltered. Tears welled in her eyes. She had sacrificed everything, and yet… It wasn't enough.

Then, his eyes snapped open.

Erazon’s breath hitched—a sharp, deep inhale, like a man pulled from drowning. The whispers surged in his mind, more insistent than ever, coiling around his thoughts. “Take their souls… Use their power…” The temptation hissed, dark and insidious. This time, he did not resist.

Rage exploded from within him, fierce and unrelenting. His golden eyes blazed with clarity, and his body thrummed with power as he sat up. The firelight danced across his face, reflecting the intensity burning inside him. His senses sharpened—each pulse of his heart stronger—his awareness heightened.

His eyes locked onto her tear-streaked face, he saw her trembling sword barely aflame in her hand, how she had been struggling to hold back the horde. Skeletal warriors loomed above her, with rusted weapons raised for the final blow.

But through their decaying flesh, beyond their lifeless armor, he saw their souls—fragmented and broken, still clinging to their bodies by the dark magic that bound them to this plane. Hollow echoes of life, twisted and grotesque.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No. I will not let you die.”

His body surged with unrelenting power, magic coursing through his veins like an unstoppable flood. The whispers, once a temptation, became a rallying cry—a battle hymn. The dark voices called out to him, urging him on.

Take their souls. Show them the power of true death.

A ghoul lunged at Solena, its claws inches from her throat. Erazon’s hand shot out with blinding speed, catching the creature’s arm in a vice-like grip. The ghoul hissed, but it was already too late. He felt it—the twisted soul trapped within its decaying form. With a single pull, he ripped the life force from the creature.

Power exploded through him, intoxicating and raw, filling the void inside. Erazon gasped as the soul drained into him, his body vibrating with the surge of energy. The whispers purred with satisfaction, and this time, he let them. The rush was euphoric—adrenaline in his veins, the world sharpening around him. His mind expanded, and in the pages of his spellbook—those once locked to him—something clicked open.

Erazon staggered forward, his eyes glowing with a sinister clarity. The energy that poured from his hands wasn’t fire—it was something more ancient, more primal. It surged like boiling liquid, bubbling with violent power, swirling with the forces of life and death. It wasn’t the heat of his magic that made the undead freeze—it was the unyielding aura of finality, the essence of being torn from the world.

“Can foul beasts know fear?” Erazon growled, his voice filled with the fury of a man who had something to protect. Someone he couldn’t allow to be harmed.

Stepping forward, the energy churned and bubbled around him. His fingers curled, and with a single word, he unleashed it.

The Reaper’s Embrace.

A wave of raw power surged outward, devouring all undead in its path. The skeletal warriors had no time to react as their souls were ripped from their bodies, dissolving into the swirling mass of energy.

Screams echoed through the chamber, ghouls shrieking as their twisted, broken souls were torn from their rotting shells, consumed by the aura of final judgment.

The chains that once bound him were gone. He had become something more—something far beyond anything Orlithar had ever taught. This power, this darkness, it was his to command.

A pulse of energy surged through Erazon’s spellbook as it vibrated at his side, glowing with ethereal light. Pages long dormant came alive, ancient spells flooding his mind. He understood them all with perfect clarity. In that moment, he was more than a mage. He was a force of reckoning.

Solena collapsed beside him, her body folding like a wilted flower as the poison worked through her veins. He calmly knelt at her side, placing a hand over her wound. His voice was steady, filled with certainty. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

Golden light surged from his hands, effortlessly purging the poison and knitting her wound closed. The undead, briefly stunned by the sudden intensity of his power, hesitated.

He did not.

Rising to his feet, eyes blazing, he raised his hand toward the approaching horde. This was his domain. The realm of the Reaper—and no soul could escape him.

A flash of dark purple light filled the hall, casting intense shadows across the towering columns. Her vision cleared, and the carvings etched into the stone seemed to writhe under the pulse of his awesome power.

Blinking through the haze, she saw the undead illuminated by the eerie glow, their soulless eyes reflecting runes that now flared to life beneath her feet. The stone floor shook beneath her.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Erazon unleashed a spiral of dark energy expanding outward. Runes etched themselves quickly along the floor, stretching outward like veins of darkness. The undead froze, their faces contorted in terror as finality enveloped them. The runes beneath Solena’s feet throbbed with life, their dark hunger mirroring the whispers filling the chamber.

Watching in awe and horror, she saw the souls of the damned being torn from their vessels. She gasped as their tortured cries shrieked through the hall. She felt the unnatural rush of life force pouring into him—a sickening sensation that made her stomach churn.

Her hands flew to her wound, heart pounding as realization struck her. The black ichor, the poison—it was gone. She was whole again. "Erazon… you… healed me?” The words came out as a breathless whisper, disbelief and awe mingling in her voice. But it wasn’t the healing itself that stunned her—it was the terrifying power behind it.

No time to dwell on it.

The ground continued to quake as more souls flooded toward Erazon, drawn into the circle he had summoned. Columns around the hall flashed with dark purple light, and ancient carvings bathed in the ominous glow.

At the center of it all, Erazon stood, eyes ablaze with power. His lips twisted into a grim smile as more souls poured into him, fueling the magic coursing through his veins. The whispers in the air grew louder, merging with his own hunger for power.

“Death and power.” he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. The words reverberated through the hall, carried by the whispers that fed on the undead and merged with his growing lust for strength.

This wasn’t survival. This wasn’t just a fight for their lives.

It was an extermination.

Solena’s breath caught in her throat as the realization hit her. The power coursing through Erazon wasn’t about victory—it was about erasing everything in his path.

The undead were reduced to hollow vessels and crumbled into dust. Dark energy coiled around the glowing mage like a serpent. His spellbook transformed in his hands. The cover turned to dragonhide, the pages glowing with ancient text. It pulsed with power, and he knew that with this magic, nothing was beyond his reach.

Lightning crackled through the air as Godric fought like a cornered beast, his warhammer clashing with the relentless golem. Each blow reverberated through the chamber. His runes blazed with power, but even with his strength, the golem was barely being held at bay. It pushed back, unrelenting.

“Solena! Hold onto me!” Erazon’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. His eyes blazed with sacred light as his focus shifted to Godric’s struggle. His words echoed through the chamber, filled with the certainty of someone who had finally unlocked his true potential.

Solena reached for him. Her fingers brushed his cloak just as he unleashed his spell. Mist poured from his wand, swirling through the air. In an instant, the chamber was consumed, golden haze coiling around them, casting everything in a light as bright as the sun.

The crushing weight of the golem’s blows disappeared from Godric’s senses. The undead horde vanished as though they had never existed. Silence fell, broken only by the soft whispers of the swirling mist around them.

Within the haze, Erazon could feel everything. His consciousness expanded, touching the essence of everything in the chamber—the stones, the undead warriors, even the altar. This was true power. It pulsed through him, a potent mix of knowledge and control, almost overwhelming, but he held firm. I am the one in control.

This was the realm of the Mistwalker, a place where he was no longer bound by the limitations of the mortal plane. Here he could transmute anything, reshape reality as he desired. It dawned on him that when he had used this mist in Carlin, it hadn’t just hidden them—it had phased them out of reality into a realm of his own making. This wasn’t just mist; it was solidified magic, the very building blocks of existence now his to command. He understood why it drained him, and he understood why it took countless souls to summon. Each miniscule drop of this amazing power was akin to a human soul, and no one could fathom the depth of just how many he had under his control.

My judgment is death, he thought, his gaze cold as he looked upon the undead. His breath came slow and steady as he exhaled, and the mist obeyed. Ghouls, skeletons, and even the towering golem were drawn into the swirling void. Their bodies disintegrated, and their corrupted souls were released into the aether. The chamber became hollow, emptied of its dark presence.

As the mist cleared, the chaotic battlefield became eerily still. The ground, cracked and scorched, bore the scars of the desperate fight. He stood at the center, his body glowing faintly with the aftereffects of the unfathomable power he had unleashed. His breath was ragged, his strength spent. The spellbook in his hand now lay still. The pages were blank again, the secrets locked behind a door in his mind.

His knees buckled slightly as his vision dimmed. What just happened? His memories were fractured, as though the power he had wielded had slipped from his grasp the moment the mist vanished. The whispers had gone quiet, but they still lurked, waiting to be called upon again. The path of the Mistwalker... it was within him this whole time.

Groaning, Godric staggered to his feet. His warhammer still crackled with residual lightning, but exhaustion was evident in his movements. He scanned the now-empty chamber, the oppressive dread gone, replaced by silence. The undead were gone. The battle had ended. Somehow, they survived.

“Brother, what the hell was that?” Godric’s rough voice broke the stillness, tinged with admiration. He smirked, pulling out the final two potions and handing them to his companions. His warhammer rested on his shoulder.

Erazon blinked, the weight of what he had done sinking in. He took the potion from him with trembling fingers. What did I just do? He swallowed, shaking his head, his thoughts clouded. “I felt like… my life hung in the balance.” His voice was quiet, almost uncertain. “Inside the mist... it felt like I was walking above the world…” He trailed off, struggling to describe the raw power that had coursed through him.

“Aye. Whatever it was, it saved us all.” Godric clapped him on the back. He glanced down at the spellbook in his companion's hand, now empty. “You don’t remember anything else, do you?”

He shook his head slowly, his golden eyes dull with exhaustion. “No… not clearly. After the golem hit me, I was trying to wake up. When I did, I saw the undead differently. I could feel their souls—trapped, broken. I just... gave in. Willed them to vanish, and they did.”

Godric chuckled, his voice gravelly with weariness. “If you can pull that off again, lad, we might stand a fighting chance.”

Solena, having quietly drained her potion, examined the spellbook, curiosity shifting across her face. “It looks... different,” she murmured, her voice thoughtful. “Can you sense anything new?”

The golden mage opened the book, his fingers tracing over its now-blank pages. The vibrant energy it had held was gone. He let out a dry laugh. “No... it’s empty again. Whatever I unlocked, it’s gone for now.” He glanced at her. “But I healed you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” she replied, her expression softening. “That blade—it was poisoned. It was draining me faster than I realized. Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to Godric. “And Godric... your runes. They’re red.”

The warrior shrugged, lifting his warhammer slightly. “Aye, lass. We can figure it out later. Right now...” He turned toward the massive sealed door, narrowing his eyes as he spotted their guide.

Maxis, who had been standing near the altar, tapped his foot impatiently. “Are you going to sit there holding hands all day, or can we move on? This altar needs blood, and I have business to attend to. So if you don’t mind, let’s get this over with.”

The trio exchanged glances. The weariness of battle hung heavy on their bodies, but the rage welling up within them was shared by all.