The warning glyph Moriah carved above Elara's office door glowed crimson at dusk.
"Someone crossed the threshold with killing intent," Moriah said.
Elara froze. "Then I wasn't paranoid."
Aldric arrived soon after, summoned by a pulse from the binding ring.
"I feel it," he said. "They're planning something. From within."
That night, Elara stayed in the Tower's upper sanctum, letting Moriah and Nathan lock the lower floors. Wards glowed. Blades were drawn. Elara wrote rituals deep into the stone floor—preparations for a confrontation she could feel tightening like a noose.
Then it happened.
But not how she expected.
Screams echoed from below.
She raced down three floors—into the research wing—only to find Nathan lying crumpled in the center of a shattered rune circle. His eyes were open, but his expression was blank. Hollow.
Moriah cursed. "That was meant for you."
Elara dropped to her knees, pressing her hand to his chest. "Nathan—look at me."
No response.
A single rune on the floor still glowed.
Elara recognized it—Soul Severance.
"No, no, no…"
Aldric appeared behind her. "He's not dead. But his spirit is trapped."
Elara looked up, voice cracking. "Then we go wherever it is. And we get him back."