The silver moon hung low over the spires of Eldrath, casting its glow on the battle below. Lysara sprinted up the obsidian stairs of the ruined temple, her fingers tightening around the ancient staff. Behind her, the Shadowborn surged, their armored forms wreathed in black mist.
At the summit, the Heartstone pulsed, trapped in a ring of runes that flickered with dark sorcery. Lysara raised the staff, drawing power from the ley lines beneath her feet. Lightning crackled along the wood as she struck the binding sigils. The runes shattered, and the Heartstone flared to life.
A raging wind howled as the Shadowborn lunged. Lysara swung the staff, channeling the stone’s energy. A wave of radiant power erupted outward, consuming the darkness. The Shadowborn dissolved into wisps of smoke.
As dawn broke, Lysara stood alone, the Heartstone’s glow fading in her hands. The tide had turned, but war still loomed beyond the horizon. She descended the temple steps, ready to face what came next.
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