Maria, her breath misting in the frigid air, surveyed the scene of her victory. The once-majestic surrounding was a frozen tableau, a monument to the power she wielded. While exhaustion gnawed at her, a deeper resolve burned within her eyes. The Lich, the puppeteer of this macabre spectacle, had escaped. It was time for the hunter to become the hunted.
With a whisper and a flick of her wrist, a miniscule shard of ice detached itself from her crystal sword. This wasn't a random act, but a beacon. A tracker, imbued with a sliver of Maria's power, that had subtly attached itself to the Lich during their final confrontation. As she channeled her magic, the shard pulsed with a faint, ethereal light, guiding her towards the necromancer's lair.
