You see Eldermoor from the ridge, and your heart breaks.

The city you left was golden in the sunlight. Banners flying. Markets bustling. The Purple Gem rising above it all like a beacon of hope.

What you see now is shadow.

A dome of darkness covers the city like a bruise on the sky. The gem’s light is barely visible—a faint purple glow struggling against the surrounding black. No banners fly. No movement in the streets, at least none you can see from here.

“Gods,” Neve breathes. “What happened?”

“Varek happened,” your ally says grimly. “Without opposition, without the need for subtlety… this is what he’s always wanted. Total control.”

The alliance gathers behind you. Mira, silent and focused. Theron, pale but determined. Wren, her eyes distant as she listens to something only she can hear. The sacrifice—whoever you chose—stands among them, knowing what awaits.

“The ritual,” Seraphine’s voice whispers from the relics. “He’s preparing to consume the gem. To absorb me entirely. When that happens…”

“You die,” you say. “Really die.”

“Yes. And he becomes unstoppable.”

You study the shadow-dome. There must be gaps. Must be ways in. Varek is powerful, but he can’t watch everywhere at once.

“How long do we have?” you ask.

“Until midnight tomorrow. The anniversary of the founding. When the boundary between what was and what is grows thin.” Seraphine’s voice wavers. “That’s when he’ll complete the ritual.”

One day. One day to infiltrate a city of shadows, reach the gem, make the sacrifice, enter the crystal’s heart, free the founders, and face Varek himself.

“Impossible odds,” Mira says. She’s smiling. “Good. I was worried this would be easy.”

You look at your companions. Friends. Allies. People who followed you this far, knowing the cost.

“Let’s move,” you say. “We’ve got a city to save.”