Category: Fantasy

The twin moons cast silver light over the crystal ruins of Valmere as Elyen pressed her palm to the shattered obelisk. Power hummed beneath her fingers, the last embers of the ancient ward. She barely had time to whisper the incantation before the air thickened—dark shapes emerged from the mists. Wraithborn.

The creatures lunged, their twisted forms writhing with cold fire. Elyen raised her staff, drawing energy from the obelisk’s remnants. Blue flames erupted around her, searing through shadowed flesh. Still, more came.

She spotted the heartstone, glowing faintly atop the ruin’s altar. If she could rekindle it, the city’s wards might hold once more. She sprinted, dodging clawed hands, every spell draining her strength. With a final surge, she slammed her staff into the stone. Magic roared outward, a tide of silver light consuming the wraiths.

As the dust settled, Elyen knelt, breathless. Valmere stood protected once more, but the echoes of its forgotten guardians lingered in the wind.

Elira’s fingers traced the runes along the silverwood bow as she knelt in the moonlit glade. The Veil between worlds was thinning—she could feel it in the charged air. The beast would come soon.

A guttural howl shattered the silence. The Fell-Wraith, its form a shifting mass of shadows and bone, stalked from the trees. With a steady breath, Elira nocked an arrow tipped with starfire. She loosed it just as the creature lunged. The arrow struck true, light searing through its spectral form.

Still, the wraith did not perish. It surged forward, claws raking her arm. Gritting her teeth, she reached for the pendant at her throat—her mother’s last gift. Magic flared as she pressed it to the beast’s forehead. A blinding burst of light erupted, tearing the creature apart with a final, hollow shriek.

As dawn broke, Elira stood amidst the fading embers of shadow. The Veil held—for now. But she had felt the tug, the lingering darkness. The world was safe tonight, but war was coming. And she would be ready.

The silver branches of the Starwood glowed as Elira pressed forward, her cloak snagging on gnarled roots. Moonlight wove through the canopy, illuminating the sacred pool ahead. She knelt at its edge, uncorking the crystal vial. The Water of Renewal shimmered, resisting her touch—but she had no choice. Without it, her brother would succumb to the wasting curse.

A rustling. She turned, hand on the hilt of her dagger. A wraithlike guardian emerged from the trees, eyes burning with cold fire. It raised a clawed hand.

“You steal from the Lifeblood of Aelthar,” it intoned.

Elira gritted her teeth. “I take it to save a life.”

The guardian lunged. Magic flared in her palm—raw, untrained. She hurled it forward, knocking the creature back. Without hesitation, she plunged the vial into the pool. The water darkened. A pulse surged through the forest.

The guardian rose, gaze softer now.

“A life saved… for a price,” it whispered before vanishing. Behind her, the trees began to wither.

Aerin pressed her hand against the ancient stone gate, the sigils carved into its surface pulsing beneath her palm. Behind her, the air crackled as the shadowbeasts closed in, their forms shifting like ink in water. She whispered the incantation, her breath merging with the glowing runes, and the gate groaned open.

Across the threshold, the Starforged Spire loomed, its crystalline peak piercing the storm-ridden sky. The Heart of Eldrath lay within—if she failed to return it to the Council, the last bastion of her people would fall.

An unnatural growl echoed as a beast lunged. Aerin spun, her blade of embersteel slicing through darkness. The creature shrieked, dissolving into black mist, but the others hesitated only a moment before advancing.

With no time to hesitate, Aerin leaped through the gate, sealing it shut behind her. She turned, staring at the spiraling staircase ahead. The Spire had let her in—but it would not let her leave so easily.

The tavern smelled of blood and sweat, the kind that clung to men who killed for coin. Kael pushed through the crowd, the weight of the enchanted chain coiled around his arm like a serpent. Across the room, the sorcerer sat draped in violet silks, oblivious to the danger closing in.

Kael struck fast. The chain snapped forward, its runes burning blue as it locked around the sorcerer’s throat. The man’s eyes went wide—his magic sputtered, useless against the artifact’s binding. But before Kael could tighten his grip, the sorcerer’s body collapsed into shadow, reforming behind him. A dagger whispered toward his ribs.

Kael twisted, letting the blade bite his side instead of his heart. With a roar, he yanked the chain back and it found flesh again, searing deep into the sorcerer’s throat. This time, the man had no counter.

As the magic drained from his body, Kael saw the mark branded on his foe’s wrist—the same as the one on his own. His brother.

The chain burned hot in his hands, and Kael pulled.

The air shimmered as Lirien stepped onto the crystal bridge, its surface humming beneath her boots. Below, the Abyss churned, a swirling void where lost magic pooled. The Elder Seers had warned her—none who fell ever returned.

At the bridge’s heart stood the Starbound Guardian, its silver armor flickering with the constellations. It raised a halberd and spoke in a voice like wind through hollow stone. “You seek the Luminous Crown?”

Lirien unslung her staff, its runes pulsing. “For my people. The Blight advances. I must wield the Crown’s light.”

The Guardian charged. Lirien twisted, summoning a barrier of golden flame. The halberd struck, shattering the fire like glass. She staggered.

The bridge cracked.

Gravity seized her. Desperate, she flung her staff upwards. A final spell surged. Chains of starlight erupted, binding the Guardian. It roared, trapped, as the bridge stabilized.

Breathless, Lirien seized the Crown. Its warmth filled her, and for the first time in years, hope dawned.

The silver bridge shimmered above the abyss, each step humming with restless magic. Elenai tightened her grip on the blade of the Dawnforged, its warm light fighting the creeping void seeping from the chasm below. Across the span, the Obsidian Regent stood, his staff crackling with entropy.

She stepped forward. Shadows clawed at her boots, slowing her, testing her resolve. The spell weighed on her limbs, trying to drag her down, but she lifted the blade high, its radiance pushing back the dark.

“You cannot unchain the Sunbound Heart,” the Regent snarled. “Light cannot thrive where night reigns.”

Elenai lunged. A single strike—pure, blinding—split the staff. The chasm roared, collapsing into nothingness as the Regent howled, dissolving into mist. The Sunbound Heart burst free, its golden fire rushing into the sky.

As sunlight returned to the broken land, Elenai sank to her knees, the sword dimming. The battle was won, but the Dawnforged had taken its due.

Eryndil tightened her grip on the elderwood staff, its crystals humming with gathered starlight. The obsidian bridge before her cracked as the wyrm coiled around its ruined pillars, molten gold dripping from its fanged maw. The sky churned with stormfire—if she failed, the barrier sealing the Riftlands would break, and the Shadowkin would pour through.

The beast lunged. Eryndil slammed her staff down, weaving the constellations into chains of shimmering aether. The wyrm thrashed, breaking some, but she held fast, chanting in the lost tongue of the Starborn. With one final surge, she drove the power forward, sealing the Rift with light.

The bridge crumbled, sending the wyrm plunging into the abyss. Eryndil barely leapt to safety, her staff’s glow fading. She exhaled—she had won. But as the Rift sealed, a voice echoed in her mind. “You have delayed the eclipse, Starborn. But you have not stopped it.”

The alley reeked of blood and spell-smoke. Kael tightened his grip on his curved blade as the sorcerer staggered back, silver fire crackling in his palms. The warlock had stolen the serpent idol—a relic worth a king’s ransom—but Kael had been paid to retrieve it.

The wizard hissed a curse. Shadows curled around him, forming talons. Kael lunged, slicing through the air. The warlock twisted aside, but not quickly enough—Kael’s blade bit deep into his side. Snarling, he flung his spell forward. Darkness engulfed Kael, and agony seared his ribs.

Gritting his teeth, Kael forced himself forward. His free hand found the idol, cool and thrumming with ancient power. He ripped it away as his sword drove into the warlock’s heart. The sorcerer fell, coughing blood.

Kael exhaled, shoving the idol into his belt. The job was done. But as he turned, he felt its pulse—alive. Watching. He scowled. Whatever power slumbered inside was far from finished with him.

Ashryn pressed her hand to the ancient oak’s bark, feeling the pulse of magic deep within. The Eluvians had hidden the Moonstone Crown within the roots, where nightshade bloomed in eternal twilight. She drew her dagger and sliced her palm, letting her blood drip onto the gnarled wood. The tree shuddered, splitting open to reveal the crown, its silver surface swirling with celestial energy.

She reached for it—then the ground trembled. A shadow erupted from the earth. The Wraithlord, its hollow eyes burning, lunged at her. Ashryn spun, whispering the incantation her mother had taught her. Vines lashed out, twisting around the wraith, but it howled, unraveling them with a wave of its clawed hand.

No time to hesitate. She seized the crown, forcing its power into the land. Moonlight exploded from the jewel, purging the darkness. As the wraith dissipated, Ashryn exhaled, weak but victorious. The forest whispered its approval—the Balance had been restored.