The moonsilver bridge crumbled beneath Sylwen’s boots as she sprinted, the enchanted stones cracking under the siege-beast’s roar. Across the chasm, the Heartforge pulsed—a molten core of creation. If she failed, the invading warlocks would claim its power.
Gritting her teeth, she slashed her hand through the air. Runes flared beneath her skin, weaving wind and will. A bridge of shimmering light surged forward. She leapt, barely reaching the other side before the magic collapsed.
The warlocks awaited her. Cloaked figures, chanting, their shadows writhing like vipers. Sylwen lunged, her blade singing. Flames erupted from its edge, cleaving through darkness. Spells struck her armor, searing pain into her ribs. Staggering, she thrust her sword into the Heartforge itself. Fire and light exploded outward, consuming the warlocks in golden radiance.
As the dust settled, the forge still burned—but now under her guardianship. Sylwen stood tall. The world had been spared, for now.
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