The sky over Eldara wept crimson. The blood rain soaked into the ancient stones, whispering curses from a time even the gods dared not recall. Horns blared from the towers as panicked civilians scattered into hidden chambers beneath the city. War was no longer a distant threat—it had arrived.
Cornelius stood before the sealed gates of the Inner Sanctum, his cloak drenched, his mark pulsing like wildfire against his skin. His companions—Elara, Tristan, Adrian, and Aelyra—stood at his sides, weapons drawn, resolve firm.
"The seal below the Citadel," Aelyra said, her eyes glowing faintly, "it's already stirring. If Lucas gets close enough to speak the Awakening Rite, there's no stopping the Guardian."
Cornelius's jaw clenched. "Then we don't let him speak a single word."
They descended into the catacombs beneath Eldara, twisting through tunnels lined with the bones of old kings and forgotten warriors. The air grew colder, thicker. Their footsteps echoed unnaturally.
Then they heard it—distant chanting. Not from Lucas himself, but from his sentinels.
They weren't alone.
From the shadows emerged cloaked figures. Masked, armed with dark blades that shimmered with soul-fire. The first to leap at them aimed straight for Cornelius.
He ducked, spun, and plunged his dagger into the enemy's ribs. A flash of black smoke hissed as the body vanished, disintegrating into ash.
The tunnel lit up with fire and steel. Elara danced between enemies, slicing with surgical precision. Tristan unleashed a thunderclap from his palms, throwing two sentinels into the wall. Aelyra summoned vines laced with frost, entangling limbs before shattering them.
Adrian, however, took a blade to the shoulder and went down. Cornelius rushed to him, slashing through the assailant with a roar.
"You alright?" he asked, pulling Adrian up.
"I'll live. But we need to move. They're just buying time."
Cornelius nodded. "Let's end this before time runs out."
---
Meanwhile, in the heart of the storm above the mountains, Lucas stood at the edge of an obsidian cliff. His cloak billowed like wings, his face half-lit by lightning. His eyes—once brown—were now two voids filled with stars.
Behind him, Seraphina knelt.
"Everything is in place," she said quietly. "But Cornelius is already inside the Sanctum."
Lucas didn't flinch. "Good."
Seraphina frowned. "You're… pleased?"
Lucas finally turned, and a trace of something almost human crossed his expression. "Cornelius needs to see the truth. He needs to see what this world has become. Only then will he understand why it must burn."
"And if he doesn't?"
Lucas's smile was cold. "Then he dies with the rest of them."
---
Cornelius and his group reached the final chamber beneath the Sanctum. The seal loomed before them—an enormous slab of silver etched with glowing runes. It pulsed with a heartbeat of its own.
But something else pulsed behind it. A darker force. The Guardian.
Before they could draw near, the chamber floor cracked. Shadows erupted like geysers. A figure emerged from the darkness—half-human, half-monster. Skin like tar, mouth full of jagged teeth, and eyes that bled shadows.
Cornelius froze. "That's not a Wraith…"
"No," Aelyra whispered, "that's a Herald. One of the three that guard the Guardian's resting place."
The Herald let out a bone-shaking screech and lunged.
Cornelius shoved Elara out of the way and met the creature head-on. Their blades clashed—steel against nightmare.
The force sent him flying across the room. He crashed into the wall, gasping for air.
Tristan hurled a lightning bolt, but the Herald absorbed it like water into soil. It responded with a dark beam that vaporized a column.
"We can't kill it with normal magic!" Aelyra shouted, eyes darting across the runes.
Cornelius got to his feet. Blood dripped from his brow, but his mark burned brighter.
"Elara, distract it. Aelyra, do what you need to do."
Elara didn't hesitate. She rolled into the creature's blind side, slashing at its knees and drawing its wrath.
Aelyra knelt before the seal, her palms glowing. She whispered in an ancient tongue. The seal responded, runes shifting, bending.
The Guardian stirred.
"No!" Cornelius yelled. "Don't wake it!"
"I'm not! I'm binding it!" she screamed. "Give me time!"
Cornelius leapt back into battle, joining Elara. Together they fought like one being—each move synced, each blow purposeful. Their blades sang, carving shadow from bone.
Then, with a final scream, the Herald faltered.
Cornelius drove his dagger through its neck, twisting with all his strength. Black ichor exploded from the wound.
The Herald collapsed.
The chamber fell silent.
Aelyra slumped forward, exhausted but smiling. "It's done. The Guardian is sealed… for now."
But even as the group caught their breath, a chill swept through the room.
Cornelius turned.
Lucas stood at the threshold.
His cloak was soaked in storm. His eyes fixed on Cornelius—not with rage, but with hollow calm.
"You're too late," Cornelius said.
Lucas glanced at the seal. "Perhaps. But this was never the end. Just the beginning."
With a flick of his fingers, Seraphina appeared behind him. Her eyes met Cornelius's—sad, regretful.
Cornelius raised his weapon.
Lucas simply smiled. "You've grown strong, Cornelius. Stronger than I ever expected. But strength alone won't save them."
"Why, Lucas?" Cornelius demanded. "Why burn the world that raised us?"
Lucas stepped forward. "Because it never raised us. It buried us. Mocked us. Cast us aside like filth. And now… I'm just giving it back what it gave."
Cornelius's grip tightened.
Lucas continued, "You carry hope, Cornelius. I carry truth. And truth is a heavier burden."
Then he vanished in a gust of wind, leaving only the scent of smoke and the echo of prophecy.
Elara walked to Cornelius's side. "We stopped him… for now."
Cornelius stared at the seal. "For now… but this is far from over."
And somewhere, far beyond the mountains, a second seal cracked.