Lyra and Salaris tore at the tendrils, each strike forcing the cavern to moan in agony. Darius and Rhoam held the altar-guardians at bay, their rhythm a shield wall of their own making.
But Vark's corruption was unending. Every wound sealed with fresh ichor, every tendril they severed regrew. His laughter thundered, mocking, relentless.
"You fight with rage, with guilt, with grief. I taste it all, and it makes me strong. You cannot win here because you carry me within you."
Kelvin's glaive faltered as memories surged unbidden his parents screaming in the flames, his younger self too weak to save them. His chest tightened, his breath choked. He stumbled, nearly losing his grip.
Xerion coiled around him protectively, azure fire surging. But even the serpent hissed in strain, its coils shuddering.
Lyra's vision blurred with Elara's face, each arrow she loosed trembling between truth and memory.
