Battle of Shadows

The vault burned behind them.

Abyssal flames roared, devouring centuries of history, erasing the remnants of Velmorian's failures. The truth of the past had been laid bare, but it no longer mattered. Riven had seen all he needed to see.

The cursed armor had claimed him, molding itself to his form as if it had always been waiting for him. Its abyssal engravings pulsed, feeding off the dark flames coursing through his veins. Every step he took resonated with power.

At his feet, Aria lay still, her body frail from centuries of imprisonment. Her silver-white hair was matted, her once-sharp presence dulled by the weight of her suffering. Yet, even in her weakened state, the mana around her whispered of who she had been—the assassin of the Shadow Kingdom, the ghost who had once danced through battle with a set of blades like wind.