The masked figure stepped closer, the Crimson Core throbbing in his gloved hand like a living heart.
Tara, Jasmine, and Neha stood their ground, staffs and spells ready, muscles coiled like springs.
The figure hesitated at the edge of the glowing trap circle, and then—
he reached up and pulled away his mask.
A gasp tore from Neha's lips.
"Tom?" she whispered, unable to believe her eyes.
It was him.
Tom, the clever inventor from the city workshops, the boy who once dreamed of flying machines and shimmering cities.
Now his face was hard, his eyes hollow with regret—and greed.
"You?" Tara breathed, stunned.
Tom laughed bitterly, a sound empty of joy. "Yes. Me. The city never cared for dreamers. They laughed at me, ignored me.
But with the Crimson Core, I could *make* them see. I could have power they could never take away."
The crystal pulsed brighter, reacting to his anger, his ambition.
The shadows around the ruined tower thickened, coiling like smoke.
Jasmine stepped forward carefully. "Tom, listen to yourself. This isn't you. You're better than this."
"I *was* better," Tom snarled. "And it got me nothing!"
Without warning, he hurled the Core's energy outward in a brutal shockwave.
The ground cracked.
Tara threw up a shield just in time, deflecting the worst of it.
"Stay sharp!" she shouted.
Neha darted to the left, firing a volley of light arrows to distract him.
Jasmine leapt into the air, wings slicing through the dark mist, drawing Tom's attention.
Tara charged, her staff glowing with pure, golden power.
Tom fought like a storm unleashed.
Bolts of corrupted magic lashed out from the Core, tearing gouges into the earth.
His movements were wild, desperate—but there was pain in them too.
He wasn't just fighting them.
He was fighting himself.
"You don't have to do this!" Tara yelled, ducking under a blast. "You still have a choice!"
Tom hesitated—
just for a second—
and Neha's arrow of starlight grazed his side, knocking the Crimson Core from his grasp.
The crystal skidded across the broken stones, its light dimming slightly.
Tom collapsed to his knees, breathing hard.
The darkness that had clung to him seemed to lift, as if a great weight was torn away.
Tara approached slowly, cautiously.
Tom lifted his head. His eyes, once filled with anger, were now filled with tears.
"I… I didn't want this," he choked. "I just… I wanted to matter."
"You do," Tara said gently, kneeling before him. "But not like this. Not by hurting others."
Jasmine landed beside them, her feathers ruffled, but her voice soft. "Everyone makes mistakes. It's what you do after that matters."
Neha placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Come with us. Help us protect Moonshine. Be the hero you wanted to be."
For a long, agonizing moment, Tom said nothing.
Then—
he bowed his head.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I was wrong. I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."
Tara smiled, relief washing over her.
"Then stand with us," she said, extending her hand.
Tom took it.
The night around them seemed to breathe easier, as if Moonshine itself had heard and accepted his choice.
Above them, the stars shone brighter.
And in the ruins of the broken tower, hope was born again.
Together—Tara, Jasmine, Neha, and now Tom—they turned toward the future.
The Crimson Core was safe for now.
But deep in the forgotten corners of Moonshine, darker forces stirred, watching, waiting.
The real battle was only just beginning.