​Do not touch that stone if you want to keep your skin on your bones," Elara shouted, her voice echoing sharply against the damp walls of the central spire.​Lennon stopped his hand barely an inch away from the surface of the glowing obelisk. The massive, high-tier focus stone sat in the center of the dark chamber, pulsing with a deep, sickening rhythm that matched the erratic thudding in his chest. It was huge, carved from a single block of obsidian, but it was no longer black. The stone was gorged on power, glowing with a greasy, dark crimson light that bled into the surrounding air.​"This is where all the blood went," Lennon said, his voice flat as he pointed his sword toward the base of the pillar.​Thick, copper-smelling channels of energy ran from the outer courtyard straight into the floor of the spire, feeding directly into the bottom of the obelisk. The hundreds of Vanguard soldiers outside had not just been killed; they had been systemat

Let go of the blade before it vaporizes your arms!" Elara screamed, her voice barely cutting through the blinding vortex of light.​"I cannot drop it," Lennon shouted back, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached. "The core is already detonating. If I pull back now, the blast wave will incinerate every dragon relic in this room."​"You are absorbing too much raw power," Vaelen yelled directly inside Lennon's mind. The old mentor sounded frantic. "The silver metal is shattering. The void energy is mixing with the dragon magic. It is creating a critical mass."​"Tell me how to stop it," Lennon demanded, his boots sliding backward on the melting stone floor.​"You cannot stop it," Vaelen replied. "You can only contain it. Bring out the graveyard. All of it."​"If I manifest the full boundary of the graveyard outside my soul, the entire province will see the light," Lennon argued. His hands were shaking violently as the fracturing blade absor

On your knees, trash, before I pull the flesh right off your ribs," the first enforcer roared, slamming the butt of his iron spear into Lennon's lower back.​Lennon hit the damp, jagged floor of the exile pits with a heavy thud. The brief, magnificent taste of the mountain summit, the cosmic sky, and the staggering power of his dragon core vanished like a cruel dream. He was thrown right back into the dark reality of the deep mud, the suffocating stench of sulfur, and the suffocating pressure of the mines. Every corridor in his sector was completely locked down, packed with the High-Overseer's elite enforcers who held heavy spiked clubs and wore thick leather armor.​"He does not look like much of a rebel," a second enforcer sneered, kicking Lennon’s hand away from a small leather pouch on the ground. "Look at him, shaking in the dirt. Pick up that pouch, Torin."​"Do not touch that," Lennon rasped, his voice raw as he tried to reach for the bag.​I

Die like the dog you are, half-blood," The Bone-Crusher roared, his massive steel club whistling through the dark air as it rushed down toward Lennon's skull.​Lennon did not close his eyes. He did not pull his trapped arm away from the wall. Instead, he let out a sharp, guttural growl and channeled the raw, unstable Alignment Crystal energy straight through his fractured forearm. The glowing blue light surged out of the stone like a volcanic eruption, focusing into a solid, jagged shield of raw kinetic force just inches above his head.​The four-hundred-pound steel club slammed directly into the blue barrier.​A deafening explosion of sparks illuminated the entire quarry, casting long, frantic shadows against the jagged rock face. The violent impact sent a massive shockwave rippling through the platform, shattering the wooden crates nearby into splinters. The steel club bounced upward against the sheer force of the crystal burst, but the physical weight of the

Do not move a single muscle, Lennon," Vaelen said, his spiritual voice vibrating with an intense, quiet panic that echoed inside the boy’s head.​Lennon did not blow out the golden flame hovering above his finger. It was already too late for that. The tiny light flickered against the damp, cold walls of the forgotten sub-level, reflecting perfectly off the hundreds of crimson eyes packed into the deep trench. A low, wet chattering sound rose from the shadows, followed by the frantic scratching of thousands of tiny, razor-sharp claws against the limestone floor.​"What are those things?" Lennon whispered, his eyes widening as the shadows began to move.​"Void-Rats," Vaelen replied, his tone grim. "They are blind scavengers that live on the waste of the lower pits, but they hunt by the scent of fresh blood. And your back is covered in it."​Before Lennon could even lower his hand, the carpet of crimson eyes surged forward. A massive swarm of the subte