“What am I supposed to do?” you ask.

Seraphine’s form flickers. Even this manifestation costs her.

Varek cannot be killed by ordinary means. He’s sustained by our souls—by the gem itself. As long as we’re trapped, he’s immortal.

But the founders weren’t powerless. Before we died, each of us poured our remaining strength into a relic. A physical object that holds a fragment of what we were.

She gestures to the pedestals.

The Quill. The Scales. The Seed. These are echoes—copies I created to mark this place. The true relics were hidden, scattered to places only a gem-born could reach.

“Where?”

Seraphine’s Quill lies in the Ruins of the First Library, in the Ashen Wastes. The place where I gathered knowledge before there was an Eldermoor.

Aldric’s Scales are in the Sunken Vaults beneath Goldport. The old trade city where he made his fortune—and where he hid his guilt.

Thornwen’s Seed rests in the Heart Grove, in the depths of the Thornwood. Her first home, before she chose to help us.

She meets your eyes.

Each relic weakens Varek in a different way. The Quill pierces his illusions—the lies he’s woven around Eldermoor. The Scales reveal his true nature—the hollow emptiness he’s become. The Seed connects you to us, the trapped founders, allowing us to lend our strength.

Gather all three, and you might—might—be able to face him.

“And if I fail?”

Then he completes his ritual. He consumes the gem, absorbs our souls entirely, and becomes truly invincible. Her voice drops. And Eldermoor falls into shadow forever.

Your ally speaks for the first time since the vision began. “How long do we have?”

Weeks. Perhaps a month. The ritual requires specific conditions—the anniversary of the founding, when the veil between what was and what is grows thin.

But he won’t wait passively. He knows about you now. He’ll send his forces. His agents. He’ll try to stop you before you find the first relic.

“Then we move fast.”

Seraphine smiles. It’s sad, but genuine.

Yes. You do.