The ground continued to quake long after the Sentinel’s voice faded into silence. The glow from the ravines intensified, flooding the Shattered Plains with an eerie, golden light. The air shimmered, bending and twisting as if reality itself struggled to hold together.
Eryndor stood at the edge of the chasm, his eyes fixed on the pulsing light below. He could feel it calling to him — not as a whisper this time, but as a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through his bones. It was the same rhythm that had haunted his dreams since the day the Voice awoke within him.
Aria was the first to move, steadying herself against a rock as the tremors subsided. “That… wasn’t a warning,” she said quietly. “It was an invitation.”
Lyra shook her head. “Invitation or trap, it doesn’t matter. We’re going in
