The sound of trees snapping broke the silence of the hillside.

Sylphie strode ahead, her white cloak stained with earth and dried blood, her eyes fixed on the distant line of Azalith's walls. The sun was barely rising, filtering coppery hues through the smoke that shrouded the sky. The wind carried the scent of ash and iron—and something else. Burnt mana.

Behind her, Irelia kept pace, sword slung over her shoulder, her steps firm on the sodden mud. Amelia followed close behind, holding her staff in both hands, and the princess, shrouded in a simple cloak, was guided by a nearly invisible barrier of light.

Nothing moved beyond them. No sound of life.

But the forest seemed to watch.

The path to Azalith had been devastated. Charred trees rose like black columns, and the cracked ground exhaled mana vapor. Through the cracks, threads of blue light pulsed—remnants of the energy drained during the attack.

Sylphie paused for a moment atop a rise.

Below, the white stone road led straight to the city walls—now broken, covered in debris and bloodstains.

The watchtowers were destroyed. No banners remained.

"This is it," she said, without turning her head.

Irelia approached, scanning the ground. The cracked stones gleamed in the pale sunlight, marked by burned runes and claw marks. There were signs of recent combat—not just monsters, but concentrated magic.

"Something large passed through here," she remarked, touching one of the marks on the ground. "Several times."

Amelia raised her staff, and the tip glowed softly. The air around them distorted, revealing traces of residual mana—faint currents floating above the ground, converging toward the mountain.

"They were being drawn in," she said quietly. "Everything that had mana was sucked there."

Sylphie didn't answer.

She just stared at the distant gate—still standing, but tilted, with a wide opening in the center. Behind it, thick smoke rose, mingling with the golden glow of the mountain.

"Let's go," she said finally. "The princess can't just stand here."

They descended the slope in silence. The ground was uneven, riddled with holes and debris. Each step kicked up dust and ash. The breeze carried fragments of voices—echoes of ancient magic, resonating like murmurs from the recent past.

Halfway there, the sound of scraping metal echoed through the forest.

Irelia spun, sword at the ready.

Between the charred trees, shadows began to move.

The air trembled.

Shapes rose from the ground—creatures of condensed mana, semi-transparent, with bones of blue light and empty eyes. Corrupted spirits.

"Remnants of summoning," Amelia murmured, taking a step back.

Sylphie raised a hand. The air crackled.

A circle of light opened beneath her feet, scattering spiraling symbols. When she brought her palm down, the runes exploded in a flash of white that pierced the mist.

The first creature melted before it even touched the ground.

Irelia advanced close behind—swift, precise. The sound of her sword slicing through the air echoed like steel on glass. Each strike dismantled one of the mana forms, which dissolved into golden fragments.

Amelia chanted something softly, and her staff glowed. The energy concentrated into a straight line and shot forward like a spear of light, piercing two creatures at once. They shattered, leaving a trail of sparks.

The air grew thick for a few seconds, vibrating.

Then, silence.

Sylphie took a deep breath, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

The forest grew quiet again. No sound. No movement.

"They were guarding the road," Irelia said, wiping away the dark blood that stained her blade.

"Or waiting for someone," Sylphie replied.

The princess stayed close, staring at the shadows dissolving in the wind. She didn't say a word. She just held her cloak tightly, her gaze fixed on the city ahead.

They continued on.

The terrain grew steeper, and the sound of the wind began to be swallowed by another—a low, barely audible hum. The sound of concentrated mana.

Azalith was approaching.

The ruins of the wall finally loomed ahead—a colossal arch of white stone, now broken into three pieces. The ground around it was covered in debris and blast scars.

The four of them stopped before the entrance.

A torn-out gate lay on the ground, covered in burned symbols.

"There are bodies," Irelia said quietly.

Yes, there were. Soldiers strewn along the stairs, their armor gleaming beneath the gray dust. None of them appeared to have died in direct combat—they were all dry, with no visible wounds, as if the life had been ripped from within.

Amelia knelt beside one of them, running her fingers over his armor.

The metal was too cold.

"Mana drained," she murmured. "Just like the creatures back there."

Sylphie looked up.

In the center of the main square, a wide fissure crisscrossed the ground—a gaping wound that glowed with a pulsing golden light.

From within it, the air trembled.

"Be careful," she said, raising her hand.

The ground vibrated beneath their feet. A deep, low sound echoed from within the city—like a heartbeat within stone.

The fissure opened a little wider.

From the glow emerged a shape.

First a silhouette, then a body—a tall creature with coal-black skin and golden veins running through its body. Its wings were broken, and its face was covered by a cracked mask.

The smell of corrupted mana filled the air.

"A residual guardian," Amelia said, stepping back. "Created to protect the ritual's core."

Sylphie didn't wait.

Light condensed at her fingertips, forming three curved blades of pure energy. With a gesture, she sent the blades arcing.

The creature blocked with its arm, the energy clashing and scattering golden sparks. The impact vibrated the ground.

Irelia lunged forward in the next instant, the movement so fast the air distorted. The sword sliced a silvery line through space and slashed into the creature's side.

A metallic clang echoed—and the blood that flowed was liquid light.

Amelia swung her staff, conjuring a barrier as the creature responded with a roar that shattered the air. The sound was heavy, reverberating, filled with unstable magic.

"It's feeding on the fissure!" Amelia screamed.

Sylphie moved to the side, opening her hand again.

Runes swirled around her arm—circles of energy forming in sequence. With a thrust, she launched a concentrated beam straight at the creature's chest.

The impact was blunt.

The wave of light exploded in a flash that swept across half the square, sending debris and dust flying in every direction.

As the smoke cleared, the creature's body shattered into pieces—each dissolving into light before hitting the ground.

For a moment, silence.

Only the sound of the wind.

The fissure, however, remained there. Pulsing.

From within it, a glow began to grow—dim at first, then intense, until it transformed the ground into a golden mirror.

Amelia took two steps back, raising her staff again.

"It's not over."

Runes began to form in the air, floating around the fissure. Unknown symbols, changing shape with each pulse of light.

Sylphie looked up—and saw.

The glow projected toward the mountain, a straight line of energy rising through the sky, connecting the city to the castle.

"Everything's heading there," she said through gritted teeth.

Irelia tightened her grip on her sword, watching the flow.

"Kael must have already arrived before us."

Sylphie nodded.

"Then we'd better catch up to him before it gets worse."

She charged forward, leaping over the rubble, and began running down the broken staircases that led into the city.

Irelia followed close behind, pushing her way through the rubble. Amelia and the princess followed, the light barrier shielding them from the sparks and fragments still falling from the sky.

The entrance to Azalith was a maze of broken stone and ruined streets. The houses were empty, their doors open, their windows broken. The ground was covered in burned symbols—the same ones Kael had seen before.

Every corner seemed alive. Runes vibrated on the walls, trembling in response to their passage, as if recognizing the presence of strong mana.

Sylphie conjured a sphere of light that floated ahead, illuminating the way.

Their faces became shadows against the golden glow reflecting off the stones.

As they advanced, the sound of the mountain's heart grew clearer—a deep, steady beat, echoing throughout the city.

Suddenly, the ground shook.

A burst of energy ripped through the air, sending sparks flying everywhere. A golden bolt of lightning shot up from one of the side streets and into the sky.

Irelia twisted, shielding the princess.

Amelia raised a mana shield in time to deflect some of the impact.

When the light dissipated, they saw what had caused it.

More creatures—dozens of them, emerging from the cracks in the city. All made of the same unstable energy, all following the same flow of mana.

Sylphie took a deep breath and raised her arm.

Runes swirled around her body, rapidly, until they coalesced into a single circle of light above her head.

"Cover," she said.

Irelia took a step forward.

The ground cracked as she leaped—and in a single movement, she split the first creature in half.

The battle resumed.

Amelia's beams of light sliced through the air like white arrows, ripping through the advancing shadows.

Sylphie's ethereal blades spiraled, clearing the enemy ranks before they could get close.

And Irelia, with precise, silent strikes, held the front line, her steel streaking the air with streaks of silver and golden blood.

The ground was covered in luminous fragments—the creatures disappearing in sparks, one after another.

When the last one fell, the sound ceased.

The three remained motionless for a few seconds, breathing the heavy, hot air.

The princess was still unharmed, protected within the barrier.

Sylphie looked to the horizon—the golden glow emanating from the mountaintop was now more intense than ever.

"What the hell are we in for," she said firmly. "Damn it, I just wanted a peaceful life."