"Elendorr!" I shouted, but it was too late. The ancient general was gone, his sacrifice the key to stabilizing the rift.
I could feel his magic lingering in the air, a final gift to the world he had fought so hard to protect. The rift was nearly closed, but I still needed to finish what Elendorr had started. The rift trembled, still hungry for energy, still teetering on the edge of collapse. The sorcerer's presence was a looming threat over the battlefield, and even with Elendorr's sacrifice, we weren't out of danger yet. His power had given us a chance, but it was up to me to seal the rift for good.
I could feel the weight of the dark magic coursing through me—amplified by my Drakhan bloodline, now awake and surging with a potency I had never imagined. It wanted to consume, to destroy, and I knew that if I let it, I would lose control. But I couldn't hold back. Not now.
