The walls groaned, dust spilling from the ceiling as a low hum vibrated through the sanctuary. Elara's heartbeat matched its rhythm — steady, growing, ancient.
"Lysar, what's happening?" she asked, clutching her mother's journal.
"The seal beneath the sanctuary," Lysar replied, voice tight. "It's breaking."
Kael pulled Elara back from the mural. "We have to leave."
"No," Lysar said firmly. "If the seal is undone, the Gate of Aetheria will stir — and if that happens before she's ready... the consequences will be felt across the realm."
Another tremor shook the chamber. The air turned cold. From the shadows near the far wall, something began to emerge — slow, slithering, shapeless.
Elara's breath caught. The thing had no face, only tendrils of living darkness, writhing like smoke. Its voice entered her mind, not her ears:
"You are not her. You are unmade. Give us the flame."
Elara clutched her wrist — the crest was glowing again, but with it came a sharp pain. Her knees buckled.
Kael moved in front of her, blade ready. "Don't listen to it."
The shadow surged forward, screaming — but Lysar raised his staff, slamming its base against the floor. A barrier of shimmering light burst forth, forcing the entity back.
"It's a fragment," he said, straining. "A Wraith of the Void. It remembers Isolde. It fears what you might become."
"I don't know how to fight it!" Elara cried.
"You don't need to," Lysar said. "You need to resist it."
The wraith screamed again, louder, angrier — the sound of a hundred lost voices in one. The stone cracked beneath its weight. The barrier began to flicker.
"Elara!" Kael shouted, turning toward her. "Remember the vision. The sword of light — can you call it?"
"I don't know how!"
"You do," Lysar said. "Magic answers belief. Stop fearing it. Embrace it."
Elara closed her eyes. Her mother's words echoed in her mind — not written, not spoken, but remembered:
"Let her believe she's ordinary… until she chooses to become more."
She stood.
The fire rushed back into her — not wild, but focused. Her body glowed, and in her hand, a blade began to form — silver at the edges, blue fire at the core. It felt right.
The wraith shrieked.
Elara raised the sword and stepped forward. "You want the flame?" she said, voice steady. "Then burn."
She struck.
The blade passed through the wraith like lightning through fog — and the creature screamed as its essence unraveled into sparks of ash and silence.
Then, all was still.
The sanctuary walls groaned again, but the energy had shifted. The seal remained damaged… but not broken.
Kael stared at her, wide-eyed. "You just—"
"I know," Elara said softly. She looked at the sword — already fading from her hand. "It's part of me now."
Lysar lowered his staff, breathing heavily. "That was not a true enemy, only a shadow. But it will send word."
Elara turned toward him. "Then we need answers. About the Gate. About what's really coming."
Lysar nodded. "Then we go to the Ruined Star. The place where your mother last stood."
Kael sheathed his sword. "And where legends say a god once fell."
Elara didn't flinch. "Then it's time we find the truth."