The remnants of the Forgotten Guardian lay scattered in the heart of the desolate city. Dust swirled in the faint breeze, carrying echoes of the past as if the very stones mourned the passage of time. The Heartseed in my hands hummed softly, its light casting long shadows against the jagged spires that surrounded us.
"We survived that," Ember said, leaning heavily on her knees as her flames flickered low, "but something tells me it's just the beginning."
"Your instincts serve you well," Silvermane replied, crouching to inspect the Guardian's remains. Her wolves sniffed the air warily, their fur still bristling. "That was only the first of many."
"Great," Dren muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Because fighting ancient, magical constructs is exactly how I wanted to spend my day."
