The dust settled over the jagged remains of the Hollow Bastion, its once-imposing structure now reduced to rubble. The morning sun pierced the fading storm clouds, its light reflecting off the scattered fragments of voidsteel and obsidian.
Drakar stood at the edge of the crumbling ledge, staring at the smoking crater where the Heart of Nyzvaren had once pulsed with malevolent power. His emberlit tattoos dimmed to a soft glow as he let out a slow breath.
Behind him, Emberfang let out a low, satisfied rumble and shook the ash from his fur. Elara stepped forward, her frost-blue eyes scanning the horizon.
"We've done it," she said quietly. "The Bastion is gone."
Seris wiped soot from her face, her daggers sheathed. "One less fortress of darkness in this world... but this was only one stronghold."
Vaelen nodded, his expression grim. "The Dral'Thar's influence stretches far beyond this place. We've only delayed their plans."
Kaelen adjusted his bowstring and let out a dry chuckle. "I'd say collapsing a fortress is more than just a delay."
Taronis stepped beside Drakar, his shield still resting against his arm. "But what comes next? We can't stand still."
Drakar's gaze remained fixed on the ashes below. "We've struck a blow, but you're right—this was just the beginning. The Dral'Thar won't let this go unanswered."
The Path Forward
The group gathered near a stone outcropping where the wind blew in cooler gusts, carrying the scent of distant pine forests below the cliffs.
Vaelen knelt, opening the Codex of Eryndral. Its pages glimmered faintly as ancient words shifted and rearranged themselves. "The Codex holds fragments of prophecies, old battle plans, and warnings. There are whispers of places where their power still festers."
Elara knelt beside him. "Where?"
Vaelen traced a finger over the glowing script. "One lies far to the west—beyond the Ashen Expanse. Another... deep beneath the Hollowing Sea."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "The Hollowing Sea? That's a graveyard of ships and souls. People who sail there don't return."
Taronis tightened his grip on his sword. "Then that's exactly why we have to go."
Drakar closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze wash over his face. A new path lies ahead... but so do new dangers.
Unfinished Business
Seris shifted her weight, her tone serious. "Before we move forward, there's something we should address."
Drakar turned toward her. "What is it?"
Seris's gaze flicked to the ruins behind them. "The Dral'Thar had informants and spies—inside and outside their bastions. Someone had to guide their forces, ensuring we walked into ambushes. We need to find out who's feeding them information."
Vaelen's eyes darkened. "You think there's a traitor among the realms?"
Seris nodded slowly. "It's possible. The way they prepared defenses... it was too precise. If there is a traitor, they'll strike again."
Elara's expression hardened. "Then we'll be ready."
Drakar clenched his fists, the emberlight in his tattoos flaring briefly. "If someone's betrayed the realms, they'll answer for it."
Kaelen let out a long breath. "We've fought shadows, void beasts, and warlocks. I didn't think betrayal would be what we had to watch out for."
Taronis's voice was steady. "We'll deal with it. But for now, we need to regroup and prepare."
The Message from Afar
As they began to descend the mountain, a bright flash erupted in the sky above. A glowing sigil formed—a beacon shaped like a silver phoenix.
Vaelen's eyes widened. "That's a summoning sigil... from Eryndral's Bastion."
Elara frowned. "The High Council?"
Vaelen nodded. "They're calling us."
Seris muttered under her breath. "Of course they are. News of the Bastion's destruction must've spread fast."
Drakar narrowed his eyes at the distant beacon. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
A Flame Rekindled
The descent down the mountainside was long and treacherous, the path winding between jagged cliffs and steep drops. Despite the weariness settling into their limbs, none of them faltered.
When they reached the forested base of the mountain, they were greeted by the sounds of life returning—the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The oppressive weight of the Bastion's shadow had lifted.
Kaelen exhaled deeply. "I forgot how peaceful the world can feel without war breathing down your neck."
Emberfang padded ahead, his ears perking at the sound of a nearby stream. He growled playfully before bounding into the water, splashing cold droplets into the air.
Elara smiled faintly. "Even he deserves a moment of peace."
Drakar watched his companions and felt a rare flicker of contentment. They had survived impossible odds and emerged stronger. But the war was far from over.
He placed a hand on Emberfang's back as the wolf-dragon padded over, dripping with water. "Rest while you can," Drakar murmured. "Because soon, the real storm will begin."
The wind carried the scent of pine and earth as the group continued forward, their silhouettes fading into the forest's embrace. Above them, the silver beacon of Eryndral's Bastion shimmered, a reminder that their journey was far from over.