Breath ragged and muscles burning, Cael sprinted through the labyrinthine wreckage. The Vestige shard pulsed fiercely, a beacon in the suffocating gloom.
His mind raced, chasing fragmented memories: a lullaby his mother once sang, laughter shared with a sister he barely recalled, shadows lurking at the edges of his vision.
In the distance, a wall of flickering glyphs shimmered—an ancient barrier, alive with arcane energy. Desperation lent him strength as he reached out, the shard resonating against the runes.
The barrier cracked, splintering like ice beneath a storm. Beyond it lay a stairwell spiraling downward, into depths unknown.
Behind him, the Hunters' footsteps closed in.
Cael plunged into the darkness, clutching the Vestige as the ruins above groaned, threatening collapse. Somewhere in the shadows, a voice called—a promise or a warning—lost to the abyss.