The silence left in the wake of the Guardian’s words was nearly suffocating. Aric could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, an invisible force that seemed to cling to his skin. He glanced at his companions—Lirae, Thorne, and Emberis—but none of them spoke. The air between them felt charged with a thousand unsaid words, each of them carrying the echo of the Guardian’s ominous warning.

“One among you will falter…”

The words repeated in his mind, relentless and heavy. Aric wasn’t sure if the warning was meant to instill doubt or to prepare them for what lay ahead. Either way, the uncertainty was unnerving. He had never felt more vulnerable than in that moment, standing among friends who, despite their bond, might still harbor their own hidden doubts and fears.

Emberis, her face unreadable as ever, was the first to break the silence. “We have more to fear than mere trials. The Wraith of Aethera has awoken.”

The mention of the Wraith sent a shiver down Aric’s spine. He had heard whispers of such a creature in the ancient texts, but they had always been vague, more myth than fact. The Wraith was said to be a force of pure darkness, a being born of the Heart’s destruction—an entity created from the remnants of Aethera’s lost magic, forged to prevent the Heart from being reassembled. It was a curse upon the land, an ancient protector of the broken Heart, and it would stop at nothing to see that the Heart remained shattered.

Lirae shifted, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon. “Where is it?” she asked, her voice sharp. “We know it’s out there, but why hasn’t it shown itself yet?”

Thorne, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, grimaced. “Perhaps it’s waiting. It’s never been defeated. Not truly. This Wraith knows what we seek—and it will stop at nothing to keep us from finding it.”

Aric swallowed, his throat dry. The idea of facing such a creature—something so deeply tied to the destruction of Aethera itself—was daunting. But there was no turning back now. They had come too far, faced too many dangers, to turn away from this final challenge.

“We’ll face it,” Aric said, his voice firm despite the uncertainty that churned within him. “Whatever it takes. We can’t let the Wraith stop us. We have to find the Heart’s fragments—and we have to restore Aethera.”

Emberis’s sharp gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable. She tilted her head, as though considering his words. “And what of the rest of the world, Aric Valen? Is it truly Aethera you seek to save? Or is it yourself?”

His heart skipped a beat, the question hanging in the air like a weight too heavy to lift. He couldn’t deny that his own quest for answers, for power, had driven him just as much as his desire to restore Aethera. But this was no time for introspection—not when they were so close to the Heart.

“We don’t have time for that,” Aric replied, his voice tight. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, we focus on the Wraith.”

The group moved in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts, their minds focused on the task at hand. The landscape around them was bleak, the air heavy with the scent of decay. Dead trees, their bark blackened and twisted, reached up like skeletal hands against the dark sky. The distant wails of wind sounded like distant cries, echoing through the hollow land.

As they continued their journey, the sense of dread grew stronger. Every step they took seemed to draw them closer to something—something dark and malevolent, lurking just beyond the veil of the physical world. Aric could feel it, an unseen presence that watched them, waiting. It wasn’t the Wraith yet—it was something else. A deeper, more primal force. Something that hungered for their souls.

“I can feel it,” Lirae said suddenly, her voice quiet but laced with tension. “It’s close. We’re being hunted.”

Aric’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively reached for his magic. But no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the danger. It was as if the very air around them was alive with an oppressive force, ready to crush them at any moment.

“We need to stay alert,” Emberis said, her tone grim. “The Wraith may not attack immediately. It will wait until we are at our most vulnerable.”

The ground beneath them trembled faintly, and for a moment, Aric thought it might be another rift opening beneath them. But this time, it was different. This tremor was steady, like the beating of a great heart, resonating in the very bones of the earth.

And then, the wind howled, louder than ever before. The wailing voices that had haunted them from the distance grew deafening, as if they were being surrounded by a cacophony of lost souls. A chill swept through the air, and Aric’s breath caught in his throat.

A dark shadow fell over them, and the earth beneath their feet cracked open, as though the land itself were being torn apart. From the darkness, a figure emerged—its form shifting like smoke, its eyes glowing with an unnatural fire.

The Wraith.

Aric’s blood ran cold. The creature’s body was a swirling mass of shadow, its face obscured by a dark hood that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal, ghostly light. Its form was indistinct, like a wraith made of the very fabric of the land’s decay, its edges fading in and out of reality. It moved with an unnatural fluidity, a nightmare made flesh, its presence suffocating.

“You are fools,” the Wraith’s voice echoed, not spoken but felt, deep within their minds. It was a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere, a terrible, ancient sound that made the very air vibrate with its power. “You dare seek the Heart, after all that has been done? You will never succeed. The Heart will never be restored. Not while I exist.”

Aric’s grip on his magic tightened, but his mind was already racing. The creature was here, and it had found them. It was everything he had feared, and more. The embodiment of Aethera’s destruction, the very curse that had been born from the breaking of the Heart.

“What do you want from us?” Thorne growled, stepping forward, his dragon blood blazing within him.

The Wraith did not respond directly, but instead, its form shimmered, and a series of images flashed in Aric’s mind—visions of battles long past, of the Heart’s destruction, of the land torn asunder. He saw the faces of those who had once wielded the Heart’s power—mages whose names had been forgotten by time.

“You will never undo what was done,” the Wraith intoned. “I am the guardian of this broken realm. I will not allow the Heart to be whole again.”

Aric’s heart hammered in his chest. The Wraith wasn’t just a guardian—it was something more. It was the manifestation of the realm’s pain, the fury of the Heart’s destruction given form.

“We will stop you,” Aric said through gritted teeth, his voice filled with determination.

The Wraith laughed, a chilling sound that reverberated in his very soul.

“You may try,” it said. “But you will fail.”

The Wraith’s presence consumed the air around them, turning the very ground beneath their feet into a cold, suffocating place. Aric could feel the pull of its dark power, its malevolent energy creeping into his very soul, as if it wanted to devour him whole. The whispers that filled his mind weren’t just the Wraith’s voice; they were memories—fragments of the ancient magic that had been shattered along with the Heart of Aethera.

“You cannot resist me,” the Wraith’s voice echoed again, deep and powerful. The sound of it made the air itself shudder, as if the very world around them had bent in response to its words. “This land, this world, is mine to protect. The Heart will never be reassembled.”

Aric gritted his teeth and summoned his magic, a force of raw energy that surged up within him. His body burned with newfound power, the deep well of sorcerous energy that had always been just out of reach now alive and throbbing within his veins. The magic wasn’t just his—it was tied to something far older. Something that had existed long before him.

“We’re not here to ask permission,” Aric said, his voice hoarse with the effort of containing his magic. “We are here to restore Aethera, and we will do whatever it takes.”

The Wraith seemed to hesitate, its form shifting slightly. For a moment, Aric thought he had seen something—just a flicker—behind the swirling darkness, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. The Wraith was a creature of pure darkness, a force beyond physical form. It was ancient. It was powerful.

The creature’s glowing eyes focused on Aric. "You think the Heart is worth saving? It was destroyed for a reason, mortal. Do you not understand the consequence of restoring it?"

Lirae stepped forward, her bow already drawn, the string pulled tight with determination. “We understand more than you think,” she said, her voice steady. “It was broken, yes, but it can be fixed. Aethera can be healed.”

The Wraith’s laughter rang through the air, its voice a cacophony of torment and mockery. “Foolish elf. You are all blind to what the Heart truly represents. It is not a symbol of salvation. It is a symbol of destruction.”

Thorne growled, his dragon blood flaring up in response to the threat. “Enough of your riddles. We didn’t come here to argue about philosophy. We came to finish what was started.”

The Wraith’s form shifted again, its shadowy tendrils slithering around them like serpents. “Then face me,” it said, its voice low, cold, and filled with malice. “If you seek the Heart’s restoration, you must first destroy the very thing that made it whole.”

In a sudden motion, the Wraith extended its dark tendrils toward them. Aric barely had time to react before the first wave of shadow engulfed him. The darkness was suffocating, a crushing weight that tried to pull him into its depths. He could feel his magic struggling against the pull, as if the Wraith’s presence was trying to swallow it whole.

“No!” Aric cried out, pushing back with all his might. The magic that had always been untapped surged through him, rising like a flood that he could no longer control. His body burned with power, the raw energy coursing through him like lightning.

Thorne roared beside him, charging forward with the strength of his dragon blood. His sword cleaved through the shadowy tendrils, cutting them apart with every strike. Lirae’s arrows flew with precision, each one finding its mark as she picked off the wraith-like shapes that emerged from the darkness. Emberis, too, was at work, her hands weaving ancient spells, calling on powers older than the land itself.

But the Wraith was relentless. It twisted and turned, its form ever-changing, always staying one step ahead of them. It was not bound by the rules of the physical world—it existed outside of them. It was everywhere, and it was nowhere.

“You cannot defeat me,” the Wraith hissed, its voice now distorted, as if it were speaking through a thousand different voices at once. “I am the darkness that will consume your hopes and dreams. I am the harbinger of this world’s end.”

Aric’s heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was clear. He could feel the pulse of magic within him, the ancient energy that was part of his bloodline. He was connected to the Heart, even if he didn’t fully understand how. The Wraith’s power came from the same source, and it was up to him to stop it.

With a focused breath, Aric called on the deepest well of magic inside him. He channeled the energy with every fiber of his being, feeling it swirl through his hands and out into the world around him. The ground beneath him cracked as he released a pulse of raw power, sending shockwaves through the air.

The Wraith staggered back, its form flickering and distorting under the force of the spell. For a moment, it was vulnerable. For a moment, Aric had the upper hand.

“Now!” he shouted.

Thorne and Lirae moved as one, attacking with precision and power. Emberis, her eyes gleaming with an eerie, otherworldly light, cast an incantation that seemed to shake the very fabric of the Wraith’s existence.

But the creature’s form rippled again, and with a terrible roar, it reformed, its body twisting back into its original shape. The Wraith’s eyes locked onto Aric’s, and for the first time, the creature’s presence felt almost… personal.

“You think you can defeat me, Aric Valen?” it sneered. “You are nothing but a pawn in a much larger game. You are the last of a bloodline that destroyed this world—and now, you seek to heal it. You will fail, just as your ancestors did.”

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Aric’s blood ran cold. The Wraith knew about his bloodline. It knew about his lineage—the very power he had struggled to control for so long. The magic in his veins was not just a gift; it was a curse. A curse tied to the Heart’s destruction, to the very force that the Wraith served.

“You are my legacy,” the Wraith whispered, its voice now a terrible, low growl. “And I will destroy you.”

The battle raged on, the air thick with the scent of magic and blood. Aric's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he faced down the Wraith. It was a being of pure malevolence, a shadow that had no true form, but could feel like a suffocating weight pressing on every part of him.

Lirae’s arrows seemed to be little more than fleeting sparks against the Wraith's unyielding darkness, vanishing into nothingness as soon as they touched its form. Thorne’s strikes with his sword were no more effective, as the ethereal creature slithered around them, untouchable and relentless. Emberis, too, though powerful in her own right, seemed to struggle against the Wraith’s presence.

Aric’s eyes locked with the Wraith’s glowing, malevolent orbs. For a moment, he felt a strange connection, as if it were speaking directly into his mind.

You cannot outrun fate, Aric Valen. You are part of the destruction you seek to avoid.

The words reverberated in his skull, sending a chill down his spine. He didn’t understand. How could he be part of the very force that sought to destroy Aethera? But before he could dwell too much on that, the Wraith moved again, its dark tendrils swarming towards him with terrifying speed.

Thorne roared in defiance, stepping in front of Aric to intercept the Wraith’s assault. The half-dragon warrior’s sword gleamed with an almost unnatural light as he hacked at the dark tendrils, but they merely coiled around his weapon, pulling it from his grasp. The Wraith's form split and reformed, surrounding them with an ever-expanding web of shadows.

“Get ready!” Lirae shouted, pulling Aric out of the Wraith’s grasp. “We need to work together if we’re going to survive this!”

Emberis had begun to chant in an ancient tongue, calling on the very forces of nature to aid them. Lightning arced through the air, striking the Wraith’s shifting form, but it barely seemed to faze the creature. The Wraith merely flickered, as if the magic had no more effect than a raindrop falling on a river.

“This isn’t working!” Lirae shouted, her face flushed with exertion. “We need to find its weakness.”

Aric’s thoughts raced as he struggled to control the overwhelming surge of magic inside him. The power—the deep, primal force that he had inherited from his ancestors—was both a gift and a curse. He knew, deep down, that the Wraith was connected to this very power. His bloodline was tied to the Heart of Aethera, and the Wraith, in some twisted way, was a part of that same legacy. The destruction of the Heart hadn’t just been an event in history; it had left behind something much darker.

“What is it you want, Wraith?” Aric demanded, his voice shaking but determined. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

The Wraith’s eyes narrowed as it reformed into a single, towering shape. It was as though the creature could sense that Aric was finally beginning to understand something fundamental about their connection.

“I am what remains of the Heart’s original destruction,” the Wraith intoned, its voice deep and echoing in the vast emptiness around them. “When your ancestors shattered it, they didn’t just break a powerful artifact. They broke the balance of the realm itself. I was created to ensure that the Heart never returns, for I am the shadow that balances the light. If the Heart is reassembled, the world will fall into chaos.”

“But that’s not true!” Aric retorted, stepping forward, his fists clenched in anger. “The Heart was never meant to destroy. It was meant to protect Aethera.”

The Wraith let out a hollow, mocking laugh. “You believe that? How naïve. It was the Heart that brought your ancestors’ downfall. It is the very thing that destroyed the original kingdom of Aethera. The power contained within it was never meant to be controlled. Your bloodline is cursed because your forebears sought to wield that power. Now, you will fail just as they did.”

Aric’s mind whirled as the Wraith’s words sank in. The Heart had been shattered to prevent a greater catastrophe. The Wraith had been created as a force to keep it from being reassembled, to keep Aethera from healing.

But there was more—much more—than he had realized. If he sought to restore the Heart, it was not just about reassembling the fragments. He would need to understand the true nature of the Heart, the magic that bound it, and the forces that sought to destroy it. And the Wraith was not the only one who stood against them.

Emberis’s voice cut through the storm of thoughts in Aric’s mind. “We need to force it back. The Wraith feeds on your fear and doubt, Aric. You must not let it control you. The Heart can be restored, but only if you accept your true role.”

“Accept my role?” Aric muttered, unsure of what she meant. “What do you mean?”

“You are the key,” Emberis replied, her voice soft but urgent. “You are the last of your bloodline, the last of those who can wield the power of the Heart. But you must not let its destruction be your fate. You must harness the magic within you, not fight against it. Only then will you have the strength to defeat the Wraith.”

The Wraith’s form suddenly lunged toward them, a great tidal wave of darkness closing in around them. Aric’s heart raced in his chest, but the words of his companions rang in his mind. They were right—he had been running from his destiny, hiding from the magic inside him. But he couldn’t hide any longer.

He reached deep within himself, tapping into the untapped well of power inside him. This time, it didn’t feel like a wild, untamed force. It was his, and it was a part of him. He focused all of it into a single, concentrated pulse of light.

The Wraith howled in agony as the energy crashed into its form. The shadows recoiled, their hold on the air breaking as Aric’s magic tore through them. The Wraith seemed to falter for just a moment, a brief flicker of weakness.

“Now!” Aric shouted.

Thorne and Lirae lunged forward, striking with renewed force, while Emberis cast another spell to bind the Wraith’s movements. For the first time, the dark creature seemed to hesitate, its form flickering in and out of existence.

Aric took a step forward, his magic crackling around him. He would not let his bloodline’s curse dictate his future. He would end this.

Aric's magic crackled like a storm unleashed. It filled the air with an intense, vibrant energy, like a beacon in the middle of the Wraith’s suffocating darkness. He could feel the power surging through his veins, the full depth of his lineage awakening within him. Every molecule of his being was alight with the force of the Heart’s ancient magic, and this time, he was not afraid.

But the Wraith was no ordinary opponent. It was a being born of darkness, an entity forged from the very destruction of the Heart of Aethera. It existed outside the laws of nature and time. Aric’s pulse quickened as he focused his magic into a single, concentrated sphere of light. The energy hummed with raw power, its brilliance lighting up the dark world around them. He thrust his hands forward, directing the magic at the Wraith’s form.

The Wraith recoiled, its shadowy tendrils curling back as if scorched by the energy. For the first time since the battle had begun, it hesitated, momentarily dazed by the surge of light that had cut through the darkness.

Aric seized the opportunity, his voice rising in a fierce chant. He had no time for fear, no room for doubts. He had a purpose now. He had a role to play in this war for Aethera’s fate.

“We are not your pawns, Wraith!” he shouted. “We will stop you. And we will restore the Heart!”

The Wraith’s form quivered, and then, with a low, mournful howl, it surged toward him. Its eyes—those glowing orbs of evil—burned with rage as it loomed over him, its tendrils whipping through the air.

Thorne’s voice rang out in warning. “Aric, look out!”

Aric reacted instinctively, rolling to the side just as the Wraith’s tendrils lashed out, nearly impaling him. His body felt like it was being ripped apart by the force of the Wraith’s power, but the surge of magic inside him kept him moving. It kept him alive.

The battle had become a blur of chaos. Lirae’s arrows flew in rapid succession, striking at the Wraith’s tendrils, though they barely made a dent in its shadowy form. Emberis, standing at the edge of the battle, muttered a spell under her breath, her hands glowing with a sickly green light. But even her magic seemed to falter against the Wraith’s malevolent aura. It was as if the creature had an inherent resistance to all their attacks.

“Thorne! Lirae! We need to find its core!” Aric shouted between breaths. “There has to be something—some weak point in its form.”

But the Wraith only laughed, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a storm. “There is no core, Aric Valen. I am the echo of the Heart’s destruction. I am the embodiment of what it represents—the price of attempting to control what should never be controlled. There is no weak point. There is no salvation. There is only the end.”

A chill ran down Aric’s spine as the Wraith’s words sank in. Could it be true? Was the Wraith unbeatable? Had they come all this way for nothing? He refused to believe that. There had to be a way to defeat it. There had to be.

Then, he saw it.

For just a brief moment, the Wraith’s form flickered again—an imperceptible flash that revealed something Aric had missed before. The Wraith wasn’t just darkness. It wasn’t just a cloud of malevolent energy. There was a heartbeat, a rhythm buried deep within it, a pulse of dark energy at its core.

Aric narrowed his eyes, focusing all his senses on the Wraith. His heart beat in time with the rhythm, and he understood, in that moment, what he had to do. He didn’t need to fight the Wraith with strength or sheer force. He needed to disrupt its very essence—the core of its being.

“Lirae!” Aric called out. “Thorne! I need your help. Together, we can disrupt its power. We have to target the core!”

Lirae turned, nodding with understanding. “Got it,” she said, drawing back her bow with a precise, fluid motion.

Thorne grunted in acknowledgement and brandished his sword, his gaze locked on the Wraith. The half-dragon warrior’s eyes gleamed with a fiery determination. “Let’s end this,” he muttered under his breath.

The three of them moved in unison, positioning themselves in a triangle around the Wraith. The creature, sensing their change in approach, howled in fury and flung its tendrils toward them. But this time, Aric was ready.

Drawing on every bit of power within him, he focused his magic once more, channeling it toward the heart of the Wraith. The ground trembled as the raw energy coursed through him, building up into a focused beam of light. It surged through the air, a flash of brilliance that seemed to cut through the very fabric of existence.

At the same time, Lirae released her arrow, the tip glowing with an ethereal energy, a streak of silver light that shot through the darkness and embedded itself deep within the Wraith’s swirling form. Thorne, with his dragon blood fully awakened, leaped into the air, his sword cleaving through the tendrils and driving into the core of the Wraith itself.

The impact was devastating.

The Wraith shrieked, a terrible sound that seemed to reverberate through the very earth beneath them. Its form twisted, spasming as the concentrated energy tore through it. The darkness that had surrounded them began to dissipate, its oppressive weight lifting, revealing the true horror of what they had been battling.

For the first time, the Wraith’s true form became clear—a twisted, disfigured being, more human than Aric had realized. Its skin was stretched thin, blackened and scarred from the same curse that had corrupted the Heart. The Wraith’s eyes were no longer glowing—they were empty sockets, filled with a profound emptiness.

But even as the creature began to fall apart, it let out one final, desperate scream.

The Wraith’s form finally began to crumble, disintegrating into a swirling mass of shadows. The air thickened with the remnants of its presence, as if the world itself was breathing a sigh of relief. Aric stood motionless, his breath quickening, feeling the magical energy ebbing from his fingertips. They had done it. The Wraith—the manifestation of the Heart’s destruction—was gone.

But as the darkness receded, Aric could feel it: a lingering unease that gnawed at the edges of his mind. There was something more. Something deeper. The land itself seemed to pulse with a quiet threat, as though the defeat of the Wraith had only opened the door to something even darker.

Lirae stood beside him, scanning the surrounding temple ruins, her eyes narrowed. “It’s over, right? We’ve won.”

But even as the words left her mouth, Aric felt the ground tremble beneath them. The air grew unnaturally cold, and a faint whisper, like the rustle of distant wings, filled the silence. Aric’s skin prickled with the sensation that they had merely scratched the surface of something much more dangerous.

Thorne gripped his sword tightly, his eyes flashing as he surveyed the darkening sky. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “This isn’t over.”

Emberis stepped forward, her face pale, and her usual confidence was replaced with an unsettling dread. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “The Wraith was only a shadow of the true threat. It was a guardian, not the source of the destruction.”

Aric turned to her, his heart hammering in his chest. “What do you mean? If the Wraith was just a guardian... what was it guarding?”

Emberis’s expression darkened as she looked toward the distance, where the last vestiges of the Wraith’s dark energy swirled in the air. “When the Heart shattered, it unleashed more than just raw power. It also released something that had been bound for centuries. Something that no one was supposed to remember. The Wraith was just a reflection of that darkness. The real enemy has been hiding in the shadows.”

Aric felt his stomach twist. “And what is that enemy?”

Emberis hesitated, her gaze flickering with the weight of something she wasn’t saying. Finally, she whispered, “The one who caused the Heart’s destruction—the one who shattered it in the first place... was King Faelan.”

Aric’s heart skipped a beat. “Faelan? Our king?”

“Yes,” Emberis said, her voice grim. “King Faelan was the one who sought the Heart’s power for himself. He was the one who broke it, believing that by shattering the Heart, he could harness its energy and become immortal. The Wraith... the storms, the destruction... it was all part of his plan.”

A stunned silence fell over the group as the magnitude of her words sank in. Faelan, the enigmatic ruler of Aerilon, the one who had seemed to be merely a figurehead in the unfolding events, was the true architect of the Heart’s destruction.

“But why?” Lirae’s voice cracked with disbelief. “Why would he do this? What could possibly drive him to shatter the very source of Aethera’s power?”

Emberis’s eyes hardened. “Power. Immortality. The Heart of Aethera was the key to eternal life, and Faelan was willing to sacrifice everything—everything—to gain it. He manipulated events, convinced those around him that the Heart’s power would save Aethera, but in truth, he was using it to fuel his own desires.”

Aric’s mind raced, unable to fully process what he was hearing. Faelan—his own king—had orchestrated the catastrophe that had torn Aethera apart. All the storms, the Wraith, the darkness that had flooded the land—it had all been part of a twisted plan to make him a god.

“But how?” Thorne demanded, his voice harsh. “How could we have missed it? We’ve been chasing after fragments, battling dark forces, and all this time, Faelan’s been the one pulling the strings?”

Emberis shook her head, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Faelan is no fool. He’s played everyone—including you. He used your search for the Heart’s fragments to cover his own tracks. Each fragment that you’ve found brings him closer to his goal of godhood. He’s been manipulating you, Aric. Your lineage, your connection to the Heart... it’s all part of his plan.”

Aric took a step back, the world spinning around him. He had been used. All this time, he had believed he was fighting to restore balance, to save Aethera. But now, the truth was clear: he had been a pawn in Faelan’s game.

“Where is he?” Aric asked, his voice hoarse. “Where is Faelan now?”

Emberis met his gaze, her expression grim. “He’s not far. He knows the Heart is close to being reassembled. He’ll stop at nothing to ensure he gets the final fragments, even if it means destroying everything in his path. The final battle is coming.”

Aric felt a surge of anger, a burning determination that rose from the depths of his soul. King Faelan had betrayed them all. But Aric couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him destroy Aethera.

“We’ll stop him,” Aric said, his voice fierce. “We have to.”

Emberis’s eyes softened, and for the first time, there was a hint of true sincerity in her expression. “Then you must hurry, before it’s too late.”