“YUKON—YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO TELL US WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” Selene cried over the deafening sound of stone grinding and wind whipping into vortexes.

  Kaela, Ron, and Margo all looked at me expectantly, dodging flying stones and debris as they awaited my answer.

  I struggled to keep my eyes on the Witch who staggered back, conjuring a barrier between herself and the being emerging from the earth.

  “It’s Grahamut! The deity of the forest! Either the villagers themselves or the Fell have corrupted it beyond recognition!”

  Selene yanked Ron out of the way of a flying stone that narrowly missed his head.

  “And what are we to do about it?!” she yelled back.

  Before I could respond, Grahamut finally pulled itself free, shaking the very earth as it emerged… It stood as tall as a building, its body made of burnt and cracked stone. Just as in my vision, thorny vines protruded from its eyes, arcing up into something akin to antlers, and its mouth hung open impossibly wide in a twisted, silent scream. This time, however, blood-red light pulsed from beneath the cracks in its surface, and the malice radiating from the colossal being was crushing.

  My eyes flicked back to the Witch. “We need to defeat her! Maybe she can stop this—!”

  But as the words left my mouth, the scene before us turned from grim to something entirely unholy…

  The being that was the twisted god Grahamut suddenly reached for the nearest villager—still standing, pale-eyed and helpless—and devoured him without hesitation, shoveling the man into its mouth. The crimson light veining Grahamut’s surface pulsed hungrily as the monster turned its eyeless gaze on the rest of the villagers, most struggling to stand against the torrent of energy.

  I stood, frozen in place, unable to act in the face of such horror.

  Selene saw my hesitation, gritted her teeth, and took charge.

  “Margo, Kaela—try to get as many of the villagers to safety as possible!” she commanded, firing off orders. “Ron—I’ll need you with me! Use your magic to help me with the Witch! …And Yukon—pull yourself together, call on your damn gods, and go distract that thing!”

  I blinked hard and nodded, unstrapping my bow as the five of us sprang into motion, each running through the chaos—hearts thundering, but eyes alight with determination.

  As Grahamut reached down toward another villager, my eyes took on their telltale icy blue. Frost shimmered from my fingertips as I strung my first arrow, and without hesitation, I released. My arrow streaked into Grahamut’s hand, and on impact, tendrils of icy blue energy crept up its arm, freezing bits of stone. It let out a deafening groan and recoiled slightly from the villager.

  My legs burned with icy energy as I began running the perimeter, firing arrow after arrow, keeping its attention locked onto me as it lumbered through the crooked graves.

  Kaela and Margo picked their way through the chaos, slapping villagers back to consciousness or dragging along those who wouldn’t wake. One by one, they began leading them out of the graveyard.

  Selene and Ron approached the Witch warily, rapier and holy pendant clutched in white knuckles.

  “Why are you doing this?!” Selene called.

  The Witch sneered. “I am protecting my village—!”

  “You call this protection?!” Ron suddenly snapped. “You killed an innocent child, and summoned some monster! You already have enough on your hands with the Fell—so why?!”

  “Silence!” the Witch shrieked, waving her bone staff and conjuring a spectral stake that she sent flying toward Ron’s heart.

  He couldn't react fast enough—Selene shoved him out of the way as he tried and failed to trace a barrier spell in time. Selene’s rapier began humming with blue energy, something like electricity arcing along its surface as she leveled it toward the Witch. She growled and summoned six more spectral stakes, sending them rocketing toward Selene, who charged straight into the fray. Her blade worked like lightning, deflecting every conjured stake she couldn't dodge as she closed the distance.

  Reaching the Witch, she slashed down diagonally—cutting through… nothing?

  Selene’s blade only passed through air as the Witch’s form shimmered out of existence. From the side, a high-pitched cackle echoed as she reformed beside a leaning headstone.

  Before the Witch could act again, Ron suddenly appeared beside her, surging forward as he brought his mace down, glowing with golden light. “TELL ME WHY!”

  She snapped her fingers, and a translucent red barrier formed above her head—just in time for Ron’s divine strike to smash into it, shattering the shield spell but nullifying his attack.

  The Witch waved her staff and this time metal nails glowing with red energy materialized, two of them—and each one pierced Ron’s feet, pinning him in place.

  “AHHH!” he bellowed in pain.

  “Grahamut protects us!” she shrieked, cackling maniacally at Ron’s pain.

  Her laughter was cut short. She managed to dodge a sudden slash, pushing herself back with a wave of force just as Selene’s blade arced in.

  “How is that monster protecting you!?” Selene shouted, her fury rising.

  “It wasn’t supposed to emerge fully!” the Witch snapped, an edge of frustration lining her manic voice. “That idiotic apprentice must have failed…”

  Ron tore the nails out with his bare hands, whispered a small healing incantation, and limped to Selene’s side, brows tensed in anger. The two met eyes briefly and prepared to launch another attack.

  Before they could take another step, however, the Witch slammed her staff into the ground and let out a piercing wail—a scream so high-pitched it was immediately disorienting. As the sound washed over them, Ron collapsed instantly; Selene fell to one knee, gritting her teeth against the sonic assault.

  The Witch stopped, flaring her bone staff in a circle, red energy tracing from its tip as she readied another spell to unleash on the stunned pair—

  I kept running, arrows bouncing uselessly against the behemoth. They barely scratched its stone hide, but Lunae’s energy seemed to agitate it—just enough to keep its attention on me.

  Still, something tugged at my thoughts as I vaulted over cracked headstones and leapt across open graves.

  Lunae and Tenebrae had asked me to save Grahamut…

  But how?

  The answer never came.

  A tremor rippled through the ground—then, before I could react, thorned vines erupted from the soil beneath me. They lashed around my legs and arms, dragging me hard into the dirt. I hadn’t even seen it coming.

  He caught me.

  I switched instantly, summoning Tenebrae’s power. Black flame surged around me, searing against the vines. My eyes burned crimson as I willed the fire hotter—but it wasn’t enough. Grahamut’s divine energy clashed against Tenebrae’s, crushing my magic like it was nothing.

  The briars bit deep, thorns splitting my skin, only for the wounds to steam shut again under Tenebrae’s regeneration. Still, I couldn’t break free.

  My gaze shot upward—Grahamut’s colossal shadow loomed over me, its gaping mouth yawning like a bottomless void.

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  Then, a flare of red light caught my eye.

  Far beyond the corrupt god, Selene and Ron knelt in the mud, barely conscious, as a massive spectral blade of blood-colored light took shape above them, its handle scraping the heavens. The Witch stood over their helpless forms, her bone staff carving wide, deadly arcs through the air.

  Caught between Grahamut’s wrath and my friends’ impending destruction, my mind—and my heart—froze.

  For a split second, my thoughts flashed to Tenebrae’s possession, to my fight with Elledor…and I wondered…but just as fast, I buried the thought, squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. This was my power, I had to use it myself, or it would be meaningless—and besides, Lyria and Bront were still out there…

  A sudden flash of golden light opened my eyes back to Selene and Ron. Even Grahamut hesitated as its stone hand paused on its way to me. Up on the hill, floating above Selene and Ron, was a massive spectral carp—its whale-sized body traced in golden lines that glowed brilliantly. Teal eyes and symmetrical spots traced down its spine, shimmering vibrantly, providing the only contrast. I’d never seen magic like this before… It swam through the air as if it were water, its light casting the entire graveyard in a warm gold, and with one massive chomp, it shattered the Witch’s blood-blade—

  I didn’t have time to linger on the spectacle. Grahamut’s stone fist was hurtling toward me with the intent of snuffing my flame entirely.

  I strained again.

  Not enough power.

  I closed my eyes.

  I just had to hope Tenebrae’s aura was strong enough for me to survive this—

  Thud—!

  Before I was flattened, a flash of golden light blinded me for a heartbeat, followed by the sound of metal on stone. When my eyes refocused, I saw the twisted iron and amethyst of a great maul—Murasa.

  His voice echoed, deep and resonant, like a god was speaking through him as he chanted something I couldn’t understand—he pointed his maul at Grahamut, and holy light washed out, pushing back the corrupt deity. His hand flicked back to me, and golden light traced up the briars holding me down. They immediately lost their strength and withered away.

  I glanced past him and saw Haizen, directing soldiers along with Kaela and Margo, rescuing the remaining villagers. Barton, their priest, tended to the wounded, casting golden barriers around the women and elderly. Celeste stood with Selene and Ron, weaving her staff through the air—controlling the golden carp’s movements—her robes whipping in the force of their exchange as she continued battling the Witch back.

  I knew this wasn’t the time—but my fury burned hot at that moment. Now that there was salvation, hope, my anger had room to take root. I stood behind Murasa as he pushed Grahamut back.

  “Murasa—!” I shouted over the din. “You knew about this, didn’t you! Why did you lie—? Why did you tell everyone it was the Fell!?”

  He grunted through the effort of holding Grahamut back. “Do you really believe they could have stomached the truth!?” He barked. “It is a leader's duty to maintain morale—not to divulge meaningless theories with no backing!”

  “How much did you know!” I shot back. “Did you know they were sacrificing children!?”

  He hesitated… “We…we couldn’t be sure.”

  Before I had time to grill him further, Grahamut groaned, the red energy pulsing within, intensifying with its rage as it pushed back against Murasa.

  “Enough, ranger—! Help me—”

  A horn cut through the chaos—loud and distinct. A chorus of wailing horns followed soon after, an alarm, a warning that meant only one thing… Night’s Reach was under attack by creatures from the Fellwoods.

  The tunnels beneath Sylico’s shack trembled as dust rained down from the ceiling. Lyria’s breath came quick and uneven; her hands were still trembling from the fight. She leaned against the cold stone, forcing her mind to steady. The echo of Sylico’s screams still clawed at her ears.

  “Up we go,” Bront grunted, hoisting the unconscious sorcerer over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “We’re not dyin’ down here if the roof decides to come down.”

  The air shimmered faintly, a residue of what Sylico had been channeling. Lyria could still feel the twisted remnants of corrupt divine energy pulsing weakly in the walls—like the aftertaste of a curse. What were you trying to do, Sylico? she thought.

  When they finally emerged into the night, the world above was chaos. The moon hung crimson behind a veil of dark clouds, and the wind carried the faint echo of battle—distant, wavering, and full of dread.

  Bront squinted toward the eastern palisades. “Graveyard’s that way. That’s where we’re headin’, right?”

  Lyria nodded, gripping her staff. “That’s where they went. Selene, Yukon, Kaela…and something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

  Bront’s boots pounded against the cobblestones as they ran. Over his shoulder, Sylico began to stir, muttering incoherently. His voice was hoarse and broken.

  “She… she did it,” he rasped. “The Witch—she completed it. My ritual—I failed, It’s all… all falling apart.”

  Lyria bit back her frustration. “Quiet. You’re lucky we didn’t leave you down there.”

  But even as she said it, she glanced skyward. Something deep inside her chest constricted—a sudden, violent tug. A pulse of black energy rippled faintly through the night, and for an instant, she swore she saw a flicker of flame as black as ink flash across the skyline.

  Yukon…

  She stumbled, gasping. Bront steadied her by the arm. “Oi, what is it?”

  “I—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I think they’re in danger.”

  They rounded a corner and nearly collided with a trio of adventurers sprinting the other way. One of them—Darron—recognized them immediately. His face was slick with sweat, daggers drawn, his leather armor splattered with mud.

  “You guys’re from Selene’s crew, yeah? You two still able to fight?”

  “Surely,” Bront growled. “What’s happening?”

  Darron jerked his thumb northward. “The Fell’s pouring outta the woods—creatures we’ve never seen before! The northern wall’s buckling, and the soldiers are starting to pull back to the square!”

  Behind him, another adventurer screamed as a bolt of red lightning struck a rooftop, splitting the tiles apart. The sky itself seemed to be bleeding light now.

  Bront’s expression hardened. “Then we’re outta time. The graveyard’s just east o’ here—”

  “Don’t bother,” Darron snapped. “We need all the hands we can get. They’re coming from everywhere!”

  Lyria hesitated. “Our friends are there.”

  Darron stared at her for half a heartbeat, then cursed under his breath. “Night’s Reach is about to fall—your friends will have to take care of themselves.”

  Lyria’s fair cheeks puffed up at his dismissive words, but she knew he had a point…

  They sprinted on, weaving through a labyrinth of panic. Adventurers shouted orders, civilians ran carrying bundles of supplies, and guild banners fluttered in the storm wind. Through a narrow alley, Lyria caught sight of Karne, the wizard she’d worked with before. He was standing at the center of a warding circle, his robes in tatters, runes etched in the cobblestones glowing white-hot.

  She and Bront barreled down the alley toward him.

  “Karne!” she called out.

  He turned, sweat dripping down his jaw. “Lyria?! What are you—forget it! The wards aren’t holding, something’s corrupting them from beyond—”

  A deafening roar swallowed his words. The ground heaved. The air rippled with pure, raw mana, surging outward from the direction of the graveyard. A second later, the sky lit up with a column of crimson light that shot heavenward—a massive spectral blade, bright red as if dipped in blood.

  Sylico began screaming again, thrashing against Bront’s shoulder. “No! No, she’s going to—they-they shouldn’t have angered her!”

  Bront dropped him to the ground and drew his axe. “You’d best start makin’ sense, sorcerer, before I make you part of the pavement.”

  But Lyria barely heard them. Her whole body vibrated with the surge. She could feel it now—two presences, familiar and terrible. The divine energies she’d felt before when Yukon revealed his secret… Lunae and Tenebrae. But they were distant and unsteady, struggling against something ancient and wrong.

  All around, Night’s Reach was unraveling.

  A cry from up the street drew her attention—Helaine’s party, the bronze-ranked group, rallying a handful of townsfolk behind overturned carts. A dwarven voice boomed nearby—Bromdel and his men forming a defensive line with broad shields as shadowy beasts clawed their way out of the gutters, eyes burning sickly green.

  “Hold the line!” Bront roared, barreling forward to join them. His tower shield came down with earth-fracturing force, generating a small shockwave that sent one of the creatures flying. “Lyria, go! Find the others!”

  She hesitated, torn, watching him disappear into the fray. The light from the eastern horizon flared again, painting the world in shades of red and black.

  For an instant, she saw him—Yukon—outlined in her mind’s eye, straining against darkness, fighting something she couldn’t comprehend.

  Lyria wrapped her hand around Sylico’s wrist, yanking him up. “Hang on,” she whispered, and started running toward the graveyard, dragging the babbling sorcerer along with her.

  The horns began to sound in unison as her feet hammered down the broken cobbles.

  Night’s Reach had been breached.

  Chaos, like black waves, threatened to spill over the town and bury it once and for all.

  But she only had one thought at that moment.

  Get to her party.

  Save her friends.

  Save Yukon.

  She could sense the foul energy clearly now as she approached the eastern palisades. She could feel the ground trembling under something colossal.

  As her mind cascaded down an endless chasm of darker and darker possibilities, a brilliant light—bright as day—pulled her attention skyward once more. Her eyes widened. There, devouring the massive rune blade, was the biggest fish she had ever seen, composed entirely of shimmering golden light—

  The magic was beautiful, awe-inspiring, but most importantly, it gave her hope. She doubled her pace.

  “Hang on, you guys…”