The twin moons bathed the obsidian spires of Vaelthas in silver light as Elira scaled the Watcher’s Tower. The enchanted chain coiled around her wrist hummed, attuned to the amulet clutched in her other hand. Below, the city burned—flames licking at the streets as Nagruul’s wraiths spread their darkness.
At the summit, the Guardian stood, its crystalline body pulsing with faint energy. Elira flung the amulet into its core. A shockwave rippled outward. The wraiths shrieked, their forms unraveling as the Guardian awakened.
Nagruul himself rose from the chasm, his coal-black helm splitting to reveal burning eyes. He lunged, but Elira whipped the chain forward, binding him. The Guardian’s light surged, and Nagruul’s form fractured into dust.
As dawn broke, the city stood—scarred but free. The Guardian bowed to Elira before vanishing. She exhaled, gripping the chain. The war was not over, but tonight, hope had returned.
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