The air crackled with raw energy as the last remnants of twilight slipped away, swallowed by a sky thick with swirling storm clouds. Thunder growled in the distance, echoing the tumultuous battle raging below.
At the heart of Emberveil’s ruined cathedral, Ariah stood alone, her lantern the sole beacon piercing the gathering darkness. The flame inside burned bright and fierce, a living pulse that seemed to resonate with her very soul.
Across the shattered stone floor, the Shadow King emerged from the shadows, his form towering and terrible, eyes glowing like molten coals. The jagged crown of darkness upon his head seemed to drink in the light, casting long, flickering shadows.
“You persist,” he said, voice low and menacing. “But even your brightest flame will burn out.”
Ariah stepped fo
