The great walls of Alsira rose against the horizon—fortified, gleaming with layered soul wards. From a distance, the capital appeared untouched by the spreading corruption. But Asher knew better. The city pulsed with unease, and the wards flickered like dying embers in a storm.
Emilia walked between Asher and Liaen, hood drawn low. Since awakening her powers, she had grown quieter, more composed—but the glow in her eyes remained constant. Elira drifted just behind, silent and watchful, her light now dimmer than ever.
"I expected celebration," Liaen muttered. "Not silence."
As they passed through the southern gate, the signs were undeniable: guard posts left unmanned, soul warders visibly drained, and far fewer civilians in the streets. A grim-faced officer awaited them, silver armor marked with the crest of the Soulguard.
"You're late," the captain said flatly.
"We weren't expected," Asher replied.
"You are now."
They weren't taken to a barracks—but down. Beneath the city, far below the surface, into places most citizens had never seen. These tunnels were older than Alsira itself. The stone vibrated with buried power—ancient magic that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The captain stopped before a sealed chamber. Five high warders stood within, locked in an unbroken chant.
"Something broke through the lowest tier," he explained. "A dimensional rift—formed by intense soul pressure. And it's growing."
Elira's voice was low. Hollow. "A soul fracture."
Emilia stepped forward, gaze fixed on the shimmer behind the sealed gate. "I can feel it... something's calling to me."
"You're not going in alone," Asher said.
Liaen nodded. "Let's end it before it grows teeth."
Inside the breach, there was only void—black, starless, infinite. They crossed fragments of floating stone, soullight torches flickering weakly with each step. The air stung with rust and ash. Elira led them, her light flickering but constant.
Then they saw it.
A wound in space—throbbing like a heartbeat gone wrong. It wasn't just a tear in the world, but in the soul itself. And from it, creatures clawed through—twisted remnants of human form, their souls hollowed and consumed.
Emilia stopped cold. "That's not just a rift… it's me. That's where they tried to break me."
Elira turned to her. "The part of you they left behind. The fracture they tried to carve into your soul."
Screams echoed from the tear.
Without pause, Emilia stepped forward.
"No!" Asher called out—but she turned, calm and certain.
"I have to close it. Only I can. You told me I get to choose who I am… I choose this."
She placed her hands on the rift.
What followed wasn't light.
It was silence.
A silence ancient and immense, pressing against their bones. The rift fought her. Images tore through her mind—crying children, endless chanting, Sareth's grin made of shadow.
But she held on.
"I'm not your weapon. I'm not your vessel. I'm me."
Her soul ignited—silver and whole. The rift shuddered.
Elira stepped in beside her. "You're not alone."
Asher reached for her. "We stand with you."
Together, the tear cracked. Then, with a final burst of soulfire, it collapsed inward—and vanished.
Darkness remained. But it was clean. Real.
No whispers.
No corruption.
Just quiet.
Emilia collapsed. Asher caught her.
"It's gone," she murmured. "I sealed it."
Elira touched her shoulder, a proud smile flickering across her fading form. "You sealed part of yourself. That's true strength."
Above, the high warders wept. The pulsing had stopped. The capital, for now, was safe.
But news awaited them.
Cult activity had surged across the Four Realms. The breach had only been the beginning.
Asher looked down at Emilia—unconscious, peaceful—and then to Elira, whose glow had shrunk to a faint flicker.
"We're running out of time," he said.