The arena was quiet—too quiet.
The dust had settled. Cracks spiderwebbed across the once-mighty stone walls. Glowing embers danced in the air like fireflies, casting eerie shadows across the broken floor. Carter stood over Elira's collapsed form, her final words echoing in his ears.
This isn't the end…
He took a shaky breath. His body felt like it had been dragged through fire. Every joint ached, every heartbeat was a thunderous reminder that he was still alive. Barely.
Ezra reached him first, his boots crunching on the debris. "You did it," he said, placing a steadying hand on Carter's shoulder. "You really did it."
Carter didn't answer. His eyes stayed fixed on Elira's still form. Her body no longer radiated dark energy. Her black armor was cracked, and her once-glowing eyes were shut. But those final words haunted him.
From behind, Sera approached, limping slightly, her face bruised but fierce. "She was connected to something," she said quietly. "Something deeper. I could feel it when she drew that power. It wasn't hers."
Carter turned to her slowly. "Then whose was it?"
Sera looked at him, eyes dark with fear. "Something old. Something that's still waiting."
A wind stirred across the arena floor, carrying with it an unnatural chill. The flames dimmed as if reacting to the very mention of it. And then, the whispers came.
Low. Hollow. Like voices buried beneath layers of time.
Ezra drew his blade. "Did you hear that?"
They all did.
The whispers came from beneath the arena—from deep below the surface. Faint, unintelligible, like language twisted by centuries of slumber. Carter's spine stiffened. There was a rumble beneath their feet—barely noticeable, like a heartbeat in the earth itself.
Suddenly, Elira's body convulsed.
Carter and the others flinched back as a dark, serpentine mist began to rise from her chest. It slithered upward into the air, hissing and twisting. Her body arched unnaturally, mouth open in a silent scream as the black mist poured from her like smoke.
"No… she's becoming a vessel," Sera gasped. "The entity she was drawing from—it's trying to emerge."
Carter acted on instinct. He stepped forward, sword in hand, and plunged the blade through the mist. There was a shriek—inhuman, ancient, and furious. The mist recoiled violently, swirling into a cyclone above Elira's body before exploding into a cloud of shadows.
The arena went dark for a moment. Then silence.
And Elira… was gone.
Not dead. Not broken. Simply—gone.
Her body had vanished as though it had been consumed. Carter stood frozen, staring at the spot where she'd been. "This… this wasn't the final fight," he whispered.
"No," Sera said, stepping beside him. "It was just the beginning."
They turned to see the crowd that had gathered at the top of the ruined arena steps—soldiers, civilians, wounded allies. News had spread of Elira's fall, and yet the tension hadn't lifted. There was no cheering. Only uncertain silence.
Among the crowd, a new figure emerged.
A young woman with silver hair tied into a high braid, her robe lined with ancient glyphs. She looked at Carter with piercing violet eyes. "You've disrupted the Veil," she said simply. "And now, it knows you."
Carter blinked. "Who are you?"
The woman gave a respectful bow. "My name is Lysara. I am a Guardian of the Forgotten. And I've come because you've awakened the Wyrm of Nightmares."
Carter's heart dropped. "The what?"
Lysara's expression didn't waver. "The true force Elira served. She was merely its herald. Now that she has fallen, it will seek a new one. And the seal below this land—it is breaking."
Sera clenched her fists. "You mean the battle's just begun."
"Yes," Lysara replied. "And you are at the center of it, Carter Valen."