The night pressed heavily on the group as they made their way back through the ruins of Valrath. The air, thick with the stench of decay and dark magic, grew colder with each step they took toward the Abyssal Gate. Despite the stillness of the city around them, a sense of urgency gnawed at Elara, quickening her pace. The sky above was an expanse of dark clouds, hiding the stars and moon, as if the heavens themselves refused to bear witness to what was coming.
Arian kept pace beside her, his face hard and determined. Morgana trailed just behind, silent, her fingers still tingling with the pulse of the Nexus Stone's power, though she carried none of the visible burden. Elara could feel the weight of the magic surrounding her, like an invisible tether that now linked Morgana to something far greater—and far more dangerous—than any of them.
