Gathering the relics

Eira turned to Elandor. "We can't just rush in. If we fail, Eldora will be defenseless. We need to prepare."

Elandor nodded. "Agreed. We don't know what we'll find there, but if this thing breaks free, the entire island will be at risk. The village needs to be fortified."

Kael clenched his fists. "Then we need a plan. What do we do first?"

Eira took a deep breath and began listing their priorities.

"We'll need defensive wards,earth reinforcement, compact training and we'll have to scout the ruins."

Elandor stepped forward. "I'll handle the defensive wards. The elders and I still remember some of the old protective magics. It won't be as strong as before, but it will buy us time."

Kael nodded. "I'll organize a defense force. We'll focus on using ranged attacks first—bows, magic, anything that keeps us from getting too close to whatever is down there."

Draco leaned lazily against a tree. "And what about me?" he drawled. "I assume you'll want my incredible skills put to use?"

Eira rolled her eyes. "You're coming with me. We need to investigate the site before we decide our next move. I need your senses."

Draco smirked. "I knew you needed me."

Eira ignored him. She turned to Nia, the young elf who had sensed the disturbance. "You'll come with us too. Your ability to track magic will be essential."

Nia paled but nodded.

Elandor stepped forward, his expression grave. "Be careful."

Eira, Draco, Kael, and Nia made their way south, following the pulsing energy Nia had sensed earlier. The further they walked, the more unnatural the land became.

Trees stood withered and twisted, their bark blackened as if burned. The air felt heavy, thick with something ancient and malevolent.

Then they saw it.

A massive stone structure jutted from the earth, covered in deep cracks. Faint, flickering runes pulsed weakly along its surface. The magic binding this place was fading fast.

Draco's eyes glowed faintly. "This isn't just a seal," he murmured. "This was a fortress. The ancients must have built it to keep something inside."

Kael frowned. "Then that means whatever is down there… isn't just some mindless beast."

Eira approached the structure, reaching out. The moment her fingers brushed the stone—

A vision struck her.

Darkness. A shattered battlefield. Voices screaming. Elves, humans, and even dragons fighting side by side against a massive, shifting shadow with many eyes.

Then—a surge of magic. A powerful spell woven by many hands. The creature screaming as it was sealed away.

The Devourer.

Eira gasped, stumbling back. Kael caught her arm. "Eira! What did you see?"

She looked up, heart pounding.

"This thing… it's not just waking up." She swallowed. "It remembers. And it's waiting for us."

Draco's expression turned serious. "Then we don't have much time."

Kael looked at her. "What do we do?"

Eira took a breath. They had two choices:

They could either reinforce the seal and bid for time,or eliminate the threat for good.

Eira exhaled slowly, her mind made up. "We destroy it."

Kael stiffened. "Eira, are you sure? We don't know what we're dealing with."

"We do know," she countered. "If we just reinforce the seal, it's only a matter of time before it weakens again. The Devourer will keep waiting, keep growing stronger. We end it now, or we risk everything later."

Draco folded his arms, watching her with something close to amusement. "Ambitious. I like it." His gold eyes flickered over the broken runes. "But you do realize—whatever is down there has likely spent centuries regaining its power. If we open that seal without a plan, we're just serving ourselves on a silver platter."

Eira narrowed her eyes. "Then we make a plan."

----------------------

They returned to Eldora, urgency in their steps. The villagers quickly assembled. Eira stood before them, facing the sea of expectant faces.

"Listen well," she called, her voice carrying through the square. "For years, this island has been fading. The land was barren, our strength stolen. That was not just the fault of the core. There is something beneath this island—something ancient, something powerful."

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. Elandor stepped forward, his expression grim. "The creature sealed below is known as the Devourer," he confirmed. "It was locked away long ago, but its prison is failing."

Gasps rang out. The elves exchanged nervous glances, some clutching their cloaks, others whispering in hushed tones.

Eira raised a hand for silence. "We are not waiting for it to break free. We will go to it first. And we will destroy it."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then—

A voice rang out. "How?"

It was an older elf, one of the few remaining scholars of Eldora. "If the Devourer survived all this time, what makes you think we can kill it now?"

Eira's jaw tightened. "Because we have what the ancients didn't."

She turned, motioning toward Kael, Elandor, and Draco. "We have warriors. We have magic. And we have knowledge they lacked."

Draco smirked. "And, of course, we have me."

Kael rolled his eyes.

Elandor cleared his throat. "We will not force anyone to fight. But those who are willing—we will need you."

A slow murmur spread through the villagers. Then, one by one, hands began to rise.

Eira nodded. "Then we begin preparations immediately."

Elandor unrolled a fragile parchment, his fingers skimming over faded ink. "The old kings of Eldermere once wielded artifacts of great power—relics that stored magic from the days before the decline. If they still exist, we can use them."

Kael frowned. "Where are they now?"

Elandor's expression darkened. "Scattered. Some were stolen during the raids, others buried with the last rulers. But I know of one that remains."

Eira straightened. "Where?"

Elandor tapped the map. "The Ruined Sanctum. It's an old temple, once a place of worship and knowledge. Beneath it lies the tomb of Eldermere's last High Mage. His staff—the Astralis Spire—is still there."

Kael's brow furrowed. "And the problem?"

Elandor exhaled. "It's haunted."

Silence.

Draco grinned. "Oh, this just gets better and better."

Eira ignored him. "Ghosts?"

"Wraiths," Elandor corrected. "The spirits of those who died when the temple was desecrated. They won't give up the staff easily."

Eira considered. Time was short, but without a magical amplifier, their spell would be too weak.

"We don't have a choice," she decided. "We take it."

Kael nodded. "Then let's move."

Draco stretched. "Finally, something fun."

Elandor looked reluctant, but he, too, stood. "Then let's pray the dead are merciful."

-------------

-The Ruined Sanctum-

The temple stood at the edge of Eldora, hidden beneath overgrown vines and crumbling stone. It had once been grand—a place of worship, wisdom, and power. Now, it was a graveyard.

As they stepped inside, cold air wrapped around them. The whispers began immediately.

They were not alone.

"Stay sharp," Eira murmured.

The deeper they went, the louder the whispers grew. Shadows danced in the corners of their vision, flickering just out of reach. The wraiths were watching.

At last, they reached the inner sanctum. The Astralis Spire stood in the center—hovering over an ancient altar, bathed in an eerie blue glow.

Kael took a cautious step forward.

The wraiths struck.

A dozen forms burst from the darkness, their eyes burning with blue fire. Clawed hands reached, spectral blades slashed.

Eira reacted instantly, summoning a barrier. The first wraith slammed into it, hissing in fury.

Draco didn't wait. A torrent of fire erupted from his palm, consuming the first wave.

Kael's sword met the second, his blade flashing as he carved through their incorporeal forms.

But they kept coming.

Elandor raised his staff. "They are bound to the temple—we must sever their connection to this world!"

Eira's eyes locked onto the altar. The runes etched into the stone were still active.

"The altar!" she called. "It's anchoring them here!"

She lunged toward it, dodging a clawed hand that barely missed her face.

The moment she touched the stone, a vision flashed before her.

—A time long past, where the temple was whole. The High Mage standing before an army. A battle. Betrayal. A curse. The wraiths were not monsters—they were victims.

Eira gasped, her fingers tightening.

This was a prison. And they were the prisoners.

She gritted her teeth. She could end it.

Whispering an incantation, she pressed her palm flat against the altar. Magic flared—the curse shattered.

The wraiths shrieked as light engulfed them.

And then—silence.

Kael exhaled. Draco whistled.

Eira stepped back, her eyes on the now-motionless Astralis Spire. The staff hummed with power, its magic still intact.

She reached out—and it answered.

Magic surged through her veins as her fingers closed around the staff.

"It's done," she murmured.

Elandor studied her. "Then let's hope it's enough."