The world fractures into screaming color and sound.

Fire blooms across the square. The gem pulses with sickening intensity, its light no longer comforting but accusatory. People scatter in every direction, their panic a tide that threatens to sweep you away.

The Elder has collapsed at the base of the gem, clutching his chest. The other Council members are trying to reach him, but the crowd is too thick, too terrified.

“The district!” someone screams. “The warehouses are burning!”

You can see the flames now—great tongues of orange and red licking at the eastern skyline. The warehouse district. Where families live above their shops. Where children are sleeping.

“Everyone to the temple!” another voice cuts through. “The barriers will hold! The barriers—”

A crack of purple lightning silences them. The gem shudders.

Neve grabs your arm. Her face is pale, her eyes wide. “What do we do? What do we—”

You have seconds to decide.

The burning district needs help. People will die if no one goes. But the temple has ancient protections, records that might explain what’s happening. Knowledge that could prevent this from happening again.

Two paths. One choice.