The land lay still, waiting.
Riven adjusted the staff across his back, feeling its weight settle like a second spine. Mana hummed quietly beneath his skin, more potent than before, braided together with the glyphs that still pulsed faintly against his chest. Nyx and Krux fell into step beside him without a word, the priest trailing slightly behind.
They began the slow walk back toward the outer ridges of Emberwatch, leaving the smoking heart of the ruins behind. Their goal was clear now: return to the Shadow Kingdom, raise the anchor, and forge the foundation of something new.
The mist clung low to the broken ground, curling around their boots like ghostly fingers. Riven didn't speak. Neither did the others. The weight of what they had done—and what was still left to do—hung thick in the cooling air.
The ruins faded into the distance, swallowed by the early light of a bleak dawn.
