The Core of the rift pulsated before Kaelron, a sphere of shifting energy that radiated both brilliance and shadow. Its surface rippled like liquid glass, distorted by tendrils of darkness that writhed and twisted, betraying the corruption within. The chamber around it shimmered with the same chaotic instability, a reflection of the rift's dangerous state.
Kaelron stared at the Core, his merging magic resonating faintly with its energy. His companions—Nyx, Zerin, and Eryk—stood behind him, battered but resolute. Above them, Ignis and the frost dragon circled the spire, their auras holding back the rift's chaotic tendrils that sought to break into the chamber.
"This is it," Kaelron said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of his determination. "The heart of the rift."
Eryk rested a hand on Frostbane's head as the frost wolf growled softly. "What do we do now?"
