The tension in the grand hall could be sliced with a dagger. Agatha's cryptic response hung heavy in the air, its weight bearing down on Eleanor and her companions.
"The Umbra Stone," Eleanor breathed, her voice barely a whisper. The name of the ancient artifact echoed in the vast chamber, sending chills down her spine. It was a relic they had encountered in the treacherous prison world, an object pulsating with an unsettling energy they couldn't decipher.
Understanding dawned upon Michael's face. "So, that's their game," he muttered, a low growl escaping his throat. "They want to control the artifact's power for themselves."
Seraphina interjected. "But why the charade with the fabricated unrest? Why not simply order us to retrieve it?"
