The cliffs shuddered beneath their feet.
Chunks of stone splintered and rolled into the misty abyss below as Eryndor staggered backwards, one hand clutching his chest. The light beneath his skin blazed — gold and black twisting together in violent opposition.
The hum in the air rose to a piercing shriek.
“Eryndor!” Lyra shouted, lunging forward, but the force that erupted from him sent her skidding backwards. A pulse of energy exploded outward — not enough to harm them, but enough to shove everyone away as if the air itself had turned solid.
Aria steadied herself with her staff, the runes along its shaft flaring with emerald light. “He’s losing control of the convergence! The Rift’s essence is forcing its way out!”
Lirien began chanting, lines of azure magic spiralling from her finger
