"Too late."
Morvanna's voice echoed through the battlefield like a death knell, low and chilling. Her figure loomed, shrouded in a dark mist that writhed as if alive. The shadows crept closer, suffocating the light with every inch they gained, pressing in on Seraphina, Alyssia, and Garrick.
Seraphina staggered back, her breath ragged as the oppressive darkness weighed on her chest. Her hand trembled against her sword, the blade dim against Morvanna's growing power. "We've faced worse," she muttered, her voice defiant but strained.
"Not this," Alyssia whispered, her magic flickering in her palms like a failing heartbeat. "Not her."
Garrick stepped forward, his sword raised, eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "We end this, or we die trying." His voice was steady, but the tremor in his hands betrayed his fear.
