A pall of ash and rain swept across Evergrave as Franklin, Banji, and Rebecca stumbled from the crumbling Tower of Mourn. Water dripped from fractured gargoyles, carving rivulets down blackened stone. Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating their battered forms as they made for the narrow alley leading to the palace's hidden War Room.
The air tasted of ozone and magic's residue. Franklin's cloak was torn, his blade still humming faintly with warding energy. Banji leaned heavily on his shield-arm, every breath a laboured rasp. Rebecca lagged behind them, bruised and shaken, her eyes haunted by the memory of Solorth's brief resurgence.
They didn't speak much, there was no room for words beneath the weight of what they'd survived. Only the storm spoke for them, howling through the narrow alleys and whispering of old curses in every drop of rain.
Franklin glanced back at the Tower's silhouette, half-swallowed by storm clouds. "It's done for now," he said, voice low. "But Solorth still whispers in the wind."
Banji nodded curtly. "We shattered his anchor, but not his will. We need safety somewhere he cannot reach." He advanced, probing the gloom for ambushes. The wet cobblestones gleamed like bone under the rain, slick and treacherous beneath their feet.
Rebecca lifted a trembling hand to steady herself against a collapsed wall. Her nails scraped moss and rot. "I betrayed you both," she whispered. "I almost freed him entirely."
Franklin halted. The rain stung his cheeks. He turned to face her, rainwater dripping from his jaw. "You saved us in the end. You fought him as fiercely as I did."
Her shoulders sagged. "My victory cost me everything. I… I don't know who I am anymore." Tears mixed with ash on her face, but the rain quickly washed them away, leaving only the anguish in her eyes.
Before Franklin could answer, Banji called out: "This way." He had found it a hidden door beneath loose cobblestones, obscured by vines and centuries of neglect. A secret passage the old kings used in times of siege, when betrayal walked the halls and safety could only be found underground.
The stairs spiralled downward into a silence so complete it pressed against their ears. Their footsteps echoed like ghosts down the winding corridor. Each step was a descent into memory, into history carved from desperation and war.
At the bottom stood a heavy oaken door, reinforced with iron bands. Banji pushed it open with a grunt, revealing the War Room: a circular chamber lined with dust-draped banners and cracked maps of Evergrave's defences.
A single lantern flickered from the ceiling, its flame sputtering with every draft. A long table, scarred by old battles, lay strewn with chipped tiles and broken runic fragments salvaged from Chapter Two's ruin. At the far end, a mural, half-faded, depicted a fallen king raising a sword over a broken crown, blood pooling at his feet.
Franklin stepped inside last and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the closed door. "We rest here," he said, voice gravel and thunder. "We need to plan our next move and bind Rebecca's wounds."
He hesitated as he glanced around.
"Brenda… she must wait with the children."
Banji's jaw tightened. "She's safe in the chapel. I reinforced the wards myself."
Rebecca sank onto a battered bench, her armour creaking, head in her hands. She looked more fragile than he'd ever seen her. Franklin knelt beside her and offered a strip of cloth torn from his cloak to staunch the bleeding on her palm. "You bear scars now like the rest of us. But your blood saved the second seal. Without you, Solorth would've broken through."
He pressed the cloth gently to her wound.
"You were brave."
She met his eyes, pain mingled with something like gratitude. "I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger."
"You were," he said simply.
Before the moment could deepen, Banji unfurled a damp map on the table. Thunder boomed above, shaking ancient dust loose from the rafters. "Listen to this," Banji said, fingers jabbing at faded ink. "The final seal lies in Solorth's Temple at the heart of the Black Marsh. But the direct path's gone, cut by plague-ridden countryside. Roads are crawling with the dead. The marsh… it remembers every soul ever offered to it. It feeds on grief."
Franklin studied the routes, his fingers tracing the parchment. "We have no choice. We break the final seal, or Evergrave falls." He looked up at Rebecca. "Will you come?"
Rebecca stiffened. Her wound bled again. The memory of the seal's hunger flickered across her face like lightning. "I… I must. If I can atone for what I've done, this is the only path left to me." She placed her uninjured hand over Franklin's. "Take me with you."
Banji knelt opposite, shading the map with the lantern's glow. "We move swiftly. Cross the River of Ash. March through the Fallen Fields, where the ground still whispers with the cries of the last war. The causeway that led to the marsh was destroyed decades ago. We'll need a hidden boat, or… swim."
"Swim through cursed waters," Franklin muttered. "Brilliant."
Banji offered a dry smile. "You've done worse."
Franklin stood, brushing dust from his cloak. "We always find a way. We always bleed for it." His voice cracked slightly. "Brenda's eyes… they burn with worry. The city gambles on our success. We can't fail her. Or the child."
Rebecca's gaze softened. "And what of you, Banji?" she asked gently. "What will you gain from this?"
Banji didn't answer immediately. He stared at the table, at the maps of a dying kingdom. "I lost everything to this curse. My honour. My conscience. If we fail, I'll die with Evergrave. But if we win… maybe I can find the man I was. Maybe I can earn my soul back."
Franklin crossed to him and laid a hand on his armoured shoulder. "We're brothers again. Stand with us to the end."
Banji nodded, though his eyes brimmed with ghosts.
A distant rumble echoed through the walls. Not thunder. Not quite. Something shifting. A pressure on the Earth. Franklin's head snapped toward the ceiling. "Solorth tests us. He's watching."
He turned to Rebecca. "Can you stand? We move at first light. The road will be cruel."
She nodded and reached for her blade. "Let it be."
He paused. "And your faith?"
"I will try," she whispered. "I still have some left."
Banji extinguished the lantern with a flick. Darkness swept over them like a burial shroud. Franklin drew a long, slow breath. The ache in his bones told him the storm would last all night, but it was not the weather he feared.
It was the silence of what waited in the marsh.
He leaned against the wall, sword across his lap, and closed his eyes. Banji dozed on the opposite bench. Rebecca curled beside him, head resting lightly against his shoulder. Outside, Evergrave wept in rain and ash.
And beneath that sorrow, the Marsh of Echoes stirred.
Tomorrow, they would walk into its heart to end Solorth or be consumed by him.
Before the lantern's glow finally died, Franklin closed his eyes and felt the weight of dawn's promise. His fingers tightened around his sword's pommel as he whispered a vow into the darkness to return to Brenda, to protect their child, or to die in the attempt.