The village of Eldhaven lay nestled in a fertile valley, its stone walls and thatched roofs a fragile bastion against the growing darkness. It was one of the last waypoints still loyal to the old ways—protected by faint remnants of Seraphiel’s wards. After leaving the ruins, Riven and Liora had ridden hard through the night, drawn by reports of unnatural storms and frightened refugees. The massive rift they had glimpsed now loomed on the northern horizon like a wound in the sky, pulsing with malevolent energy.
They arrived at dusk, welcomed as saviors by wide-eyed villagers who had heard whispers of the cursed pair. Torches flickered along the walls as Riven helped reinforce barricades while Liora tended to the wounded with what little healing the curse would allow.
In a quiet moment ato
