A week after the Whispering Grove's cleansing, the four guardians and Riven convened in Elderglen's newly built Hall of Unity. Lanterns glowed softly along the vaulted ceiling, and at the center stood a circular table carved with the intertwined symbols of Flame, Wind, Tide, and Stone. Around it sat the realm's chief magistrates—each bearing their element's sigil—and beside them, the four guardians took their places.
King Aldren opened the council with measured gravity. "Though our lands flourish, the Shadow Cult's touch yet lingers. We must root out its last vestiges before it can strike again."
Queen Maeris of the Wind Dominion nodded, her silver hair catching the lamplight. "Our couriers report whispers of sedition among the skyfaring clans—words of 'return to the old ways.' Such talk cannot go unanswered."
Lady Neris of the Tide Provinces leaned forward, water-glass beads clinking at her cloak's hem. "Pirates brood in the southern reefs, their flags bearing the broken circle—Malrik's old mark. They pick off merchant vessels under cover of night."
Bram's gauntleted hand tapped the carved table. "And farmers in Stonevale speak of strange tremors beneath the new terraces—roots shriveling, walls cracking as if something stirs in the deep earth."
Sylas rose smoothly, wind lifting loose scrolls from the table. "The Shadow Cult thrives on division. We must act swiftly—and together."
Lior stood and placed his flame-adorned banner beside Corwin's wave-carved chalice. "As guardians, we propose a fourfold patrol: flameward brigades in the Emberwood, wind-watch at the high spires, tide-guard along the reefs, and earth-ward patrols across the terraces. Each led by one of us, working in concert."
Silence fell as the magistrates exchanged glances. Finally, Lady Neris spoke. "Our navies are stretched thin. If Corwin leads the tide-guard, I will redeploy two triremes to reinforce your coastal watch."
Queen Maeris nodded. "I will grant Sylas the Skyfleet's swiftest frigates and wind-sages to survey every hidden cove and mountain pass."
King Aldren turned to Bram. "Stonevale's builders will support your patrols with earth-ward barriers—living rootworks that can entrap any who would beneath the soil."
Bram inclined his head. "And I will guide them personally through the deepest quarries."
Lior met the king's gaze. "I will take flameward brigades into the Emberwood glens—ridding them of any corruption that dares to spring from ash."
With the plan agreed, Riven rose at the table's center, the Heartstone's glow illuminating his features. "By dividing our vigilance, we threaten the Cult's ability to regroup. But remember: the greatest weakness they exploit is mistrust. Keep the lines of communication open—share intelligence at the Wellspring's vault each fortnight."
The council adjourned amid solemn affirmations. Outside, lantern-light spilled into the streets, where banners of four colors welcomed the guardians to their new duties.
At dawn, Lior led a company of Emberwood rangers through smoldering ridges. Sparks danced at his fingertips as they uncovered hidden caverns carved with the broken circle. Wherever they found the Cult's sigil, Lior's fire cleansed it, reducing wards and altars to ash. Yet each burned symbol revealed fresh clues—rune-fragments pointing toward the Stormpeak Pass.
High above the cirrus canopies, Sylas and the wind-sages patrolled aerial paths between floating skyship docks. From a vantage on the tallest mast, Sylas spotted a spiraling smoke trail in the distance—smokestacks of illicit forges where cultists refined shadow-forged blades. With a burst of wind he carried word to Queen Maeris, who dispatched her elite skyguard to dismantle the foundry at once.
Corwin sailed the Silence of Murena with his tide-guard, charting the southern reefs. Beneath phosphorescent waves, he discovered hidden grottoes where cult acolytes drained corrupted waters to brew a toxin. Corwin's purifying currents washed away the poison, and his sailors captured the smugglers' ships—bearing chains of broken circle badges—before they could spread plague to nearby ports.
Bram ventured beneath the Stonevale Terraces into ancient subterranean galleries. There he found collapsed rootworks—twisted and blackened by a creeping rot. With his earthroot staff, Bram wove new living pillars that drove the rot away. From fissures in the bedrock, he unearthed carved tablets bearing the Cult's commandments—proof of a coordinated effort to destabilize the land from below.
At fortnight's end, the guardians reconvened in the subterranean vault beneath the Living Seed. Each shared their findings: runic fragments mapping to Stormpeak, shadow-forged weapons, toxin recipes, and sacrilegious tablets. Riven laid the fragments on the Wellspring dais; they formed a map leading to an isolated fortress perched on the mountain's crown—likely the Shadow Cult's last stronghold.
Lior's flame leapt in his palm. "Then we know our next destination."
Sylas's wind stirred the torches. "A single fortress—four of us together."
Corwin held his conch over the pool. "Let the tide of our unity wash away this final threat."
Bram tapped the root-carved tablets. "And let the earth's strength seal their fate."
Riven smiled, lantern light dancing on the Heartstone between them. "Tomorrow, at dawn, we ascend to Stormpeak. The final ember of darkness awaits—and together, we will cleanse it."
Beneath the vault's four alcoves, the Wellspring of Echoes pulsed gently—a living testament to the kingdom's vigilance, and a beacon for the guardians' unwavering unity.