For a long moment, no one moved, they couldn't dare move and as the Wind simply swept through the courtyard, stirring the ash and broken stone, but it felt like the whole world had gone still around the small girl standing near the shattered pillar.The younger Diana stood barefoot on the cold ground, her pale hair shifting gently around her face. She didn’t look frightened. She didn’t look confused. She looked heartbreakingly calm — as if she had expected this moment to come.Diana felt her own breath freeze. This wasn’t a vision. This wasn’t magic thrown at them by the Harbinger. This girl was real enough that her footsteps had left prints in the dust.Xavier stepped forward, blade drawn, eyes narrowed. “Stay behind me.”But the child shook her head.“No, Xavier,” she said softly. “You can’t protect her from this.”Xavier flinched. The girl knew his name — knew all of them. She spoke with a strange certainty, like someone who had lived this moment a hundred times.Marcus stepped for

The darkness had swallowed them all and for a moment, the world narrowed to nothing but the sound of their footsteps and the frantic thrum of Diana’s heartbeat echoing in her ears. The narrow passage curved sharply downward, its walls slick with age and humming with a low, unsettling vibration—like the stone itself remembered something it wanted to forget.Marcus led the group, his spear glowing faintly to give them just enough light to see the ground beneath their feet. “Keep close,” he warned. “These tunnels weren’t made for mortals. They shift.”“They what?” Xavier asked, half in disbelief, half in threat.“They shift when they sense power,” the priestess whispered nervously. “Or when they sense fear.”“Great,” Xavier muttered. “So we’re doomed either way.”Diana tried to focus, tried to steady her pace, but the pressure inside her chest was growing. Not painful—just heavy. Full. Like something unseen was drawing in a breath, waiting. Watching.The Harbinger’s voice could no longer

The world returned in fragments the sound before sight, pain before understanding. Marcus was the first to move, dragging himself from the wreckage of shattered stone and broken light. His armor was cracked along one shoulder, his breath sharp with dust and ash. Around him, the once-mighty Crypt had collapsed into a field of ruin; the air shimmered faintly, still warped from the force of Diana’s last surge.He coughed hard, forcing himself upright. “Xavier!” he shouted hoarsely. “Aetherion! Priestess!”For a long moment, there was only silence.Then, from beneath a half-buried column, came a low groan. Marcus sprinted over, bracing his weight and heaving the slab aside. Xavier stumbled out, coughing, blood streaking his face but alive.“She—” he tried to speak, choking on dust. “Diana—where is she?”Marcus turned toward the crater that had once been the center of the chamber. There, in a circle of molten stone, the light still glowed faintly—pulsing like a wounded heart. He took a hes

The dawn did not arrive gently, it had tore itself across the horizon in streaks of bruised gold and burning crimson, as though the sky itself resisted the coming light. From the high ridge overlooking the divine plains, Diana watched the sun rise over a land that no longer felt like it belonged to any one realm. The ground below shimmered with fractured power—old ley lines awakening, ancient wards collapsing, forgotten paths reopening. The world was preparing for war, whether its people were ready or not.Behind her, the camp stirred slowly. Soldiers moved quietly, checking weapons, tightening armor, whispering prayers to gods who might soon stand against them. The priestess walked among them, her presence calm but heavy, offering words of comfort she herself did not fully believe. Aetherion sat near the center of the camp, eyes closed, breathing steadily as he tried to keep the shard within him dormant. Every now and then, a faint pulse of red light slipped through his chest like a

Diana did not dream and that was the first thing she noticed when consciousness returned to her. No visions. No burning corridors of light. No echoing voices pulling her toward something vast and endless. There was only stillness heavy and dark and quiet.Her eyes opened slowly as she lay in a wide stone chamber lit by soft golden lamps embedded in the walls. The ceiling arched high above her, carved with symbols she recognized faintly from ancient texts—wards of rest, protection, and concealment. The air smelled of clean water and herbs.She tried to move, the pain flared instantly, sharp enough to steal her breath.“Don’t,” Marcus said immediately.She turned her head. He sat beside the bed, forearms resting on his knees, armor gone, dark clothing replacing it. He looked exhausted in a way she had never seen before—older, rougher, stripped of the fury that usually held him upright.“You’re awake,” he said quietly.Her throat felt dry. “How long?”“Two days,” he answered. “You scared