The air around us crackled with energy as we stood at the edge of what once was the magnificent Sunken City of Aeridor. Most of its glory lay beneath the churning sea, but its tallest spires reached defiantly skyward like the fingers of a drowning giant. The dark figure – the Herald of Dissonance – remained atop the central spire, a void in the shape of a being.
"We can't allow it to claim the final resonator," I said, gripping the Heart of the Sky scepter tightly. Its warmth pulsed against my palm, almost like a heartbeat.
Theron's face was grim but determined. "The royal guard and my forces are a day's ride behind us. We can't wait for them."
Isabella stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the distant figure. "The plants near the shore are crying out in pain. Whatever that... thing is, it's corrupting the natural harmony of this place."
