The air crackled with a sickening energy as the final blow resonated through the cavern. Eleanor, Michael, and Barnaby stumbled back, chests heaving, sweat stinging their eyes. Together, they had vanquished the monstrous guardian, a grotesque byproduct of the prison world's instability. Exhausted but triumphant, they turned to Xol'thul, expecting her to share their relief.
Instead, Xol'thul stood unmoving, her face an unreadable mask. It was then, in a horrifying twist of reality, that the cavern walls began to shudder. Cracks snaked across the ceiling, and dust rained down in a choking cloud.
"What's happening?" Michael roared, his voice drowned out by the growing tremor.
Eleanor gripped her sword tighter, a creeping dread settling in her gut. "Xol'thul?" she rasped, her voice barely audible above the din.
