Eryndor pressed his palm against the ancient sigil, the stone beneath his fingers humming with unseen power. The door groaned and parted, revealing the fabled Heart of Vael—the last hope against the Shadowmire’s advance.
Behind him, armored wraiths slithered closer, their hollow eyes burning with cursed flame. A flick of his wrist sent silver runes bursting from his gauntlet, binding them in chains of light.
The Heart pulsed, waiting. He had one chance. He grabbed it, and magic surged through his veins. Visions of lost empires and shattered gods filled his mind.
The ground quaked. The wraiths broke free. Eryndor turned, raising his hand. Energy poured from the Heart, a blinding storm of radiance. Shadows howled as they dissolved.
As silence fell, the Heart cracked, its essence spent. Eryndor clenched his fist, gazing at the battlefield beyond. The world was safe—for now.
Leave a Reply