The ash still clung to the air like a memory.
Elizabeth Stormborn stood at the edge of the Black Spire’s summit, where the altar had once pulsed with the Forgotten God’s influence. Now, only scorched stone and silent winds remained. The sea below churned with restless tides as if the world itself hadn’t yet accepted the battle was over.
Solbrand rested in her hands. Its glow dimmed but was not extinguished. The blade hummed with a warmth that echoed her heartbeat as if waiting. She knelt and placed it into the heart of the newly forged vault a resting place carved into the earth by Moonspire mages and blessed by the Flame Order.
Lucian stood nearby, watching. He didn’t speak. He knew the weight of a farewell.
When the vault was sealed, golden fire danced across its face, sealing it wit
