The ascent from Ironheart's depths was marked by silence, broken only by the steady drip of water from ancient stone and the distant ring of forges below. Morgana's crystal pendant pulsed with increasing urgency, its light casting strange shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Each flash seemed to echo the rhythm of her heart—quick, anxious, determined.
"The Elven Council is growing restless," she said, checking the crystal's meaning in its subtle variations of light. "The darkness gathering in their forests... it's different from what we faced below."
Kael walked beside her, his shoulders still tense from their encounter with Darien. The revelation of their old mentor's corruption had left wounds deeper than any shadow creature's claws. "Different how?"
