Dawn broke over Eldhaven with a hesitant light, the village still reeling from the shadow assault. Makeshift infirmaries overflowed with the injured, and the air carried the acrid scent of burned ichor and healing herbs. In a quiet room above the healer’s hall, Liora lay on a narrow cot, her body wracked with tremors. The aggressive unleashing of her curse had exacted a brutal price.
Dark veins traced patterns beneath her pale skin, throbbing with residual shadow energy. Every breath sent spikes of pain through her chest, and fevered whispers echoed in her mind—fragments of ancient demonic voices tempting her with power and oblivion. She had saved the village, but the curse now clawed deeper, threatening to erode her will.
Riven sat vigil at her bedside, his hand clasped tightly around h
