The next morning brought no sunlight—only a faint silver glow behind the clouds, like the sky itself was afraid to shine.
Ariya sat on a fallen log, wrapping her hands in cloth. Her fingertips were still raw from the night before. The power had answered her call… but it left a mark.
"You'll get used to it," Kiran said, sharpening his blade nearby. "The first time is always the hardest."
She looked up. "You talk like it's normal to fight undead monsters and summon weapons made of shadow."
He shrugged. "In Elyndor, it kind of is."
Ariya gave a faint laugh. "This world is insane."
Kiran glanced at her, serious now. "You're strong. But strength without control is a curse. I've seen people lose themselves to their own power."
She went quiet. "Is that what happened to my mother?"
He paused. "…What do you mean?"
"She had it too. The shadows. She disappeared when I was young. Everyone said she ran. But sometimes, at night, I'd see her silhouette in the woods. Watching."
Kiran's grip tightened around his sword. "She may still be out there."
Ariya's heart beat faster. "Alive?"
"Maybe. But changed. The Void twists what it touches."
Before she could answer, the earth trembled — faint at first, then stronger. Trees shook. Birds scattered.
Suddenly, a bolt of blue flame shot into the sky from beyond the forest.
"What was that?" Ariya asked.
Kiran stood. "A flare. Not magic — tech. From Elaris."
"The floating city?"
He nodded. "They're under attack."
He offered her his hand. "We can still make it. If we move fast."
She took it.
As they raced through the forest toward the flare, shadows followed silently behind them. Watching. Whispering.
And far beneath the ground, a figure wrapped in torn black robes opened glowing violet eyes.
She smiled.
"My daughter draws near."