Amara and Jaren stood on the precipice of the ruined city, watching as the once-crumbling remains of the great tower now flickered with eerie energy. The pulse of dark power radiated from it, rippling across the skies. Every part of her wanted to collapse, to surrender to the overwhelming odds against them, but she could feel the weight of the shard growing heavier in her hand, a constant reminder that they could not stop now.
Jaren, too, was silent, his exhaustion evident in the sagging of his shoulders and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. But the look in his eyes—the steady determination that had burned in him since the beginning—remained unwavering.
“We don’t have much time,” Amara said, her voice breaking the tense silence. “The figure is close, and if we don’t find the other
