The aftershocks of the battle echoed through the land, but the storm had finally begun to subside. The sun broke through the lingering clouds, casting long shadows over the once-battered landscape. The void had retreated—for now—but the damage it had wrought was evident. Charred earth, twisted remnants of what had once been solid, stood as silent witnesses to the chaos.
Sylas stood in the middle of it all, still gripping his sword, but now more in thought than in readiness. He could still feel the oppressive weight of the rift—like a lingering presence that had not fully dissipated. The feeling gnawed at him. Something was not right.
Alira was beside him, her expression one of confusion and concern. Her sword was sheathed, but her stance remained defensive, her senses still heightened from the battle. "What happens now?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence that had settled between them.
Sylas did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked to the horizon where Seraphis had disappeared moments earlier, the light from his arrival still lingering in the air like a fading memory. The guardian had given them a temporary reprieve, but that was all. He had mentioned the Void returning, and Sylas could not shake the feeling that their victory was not as decisive as it seemed.
"We regroup," he finally said, his voice low and firm. "But we can't let our guard down. The Void may have been pushed back, but it's not gone. And there's something more—something bigger behind this."
Alira nodded, though her gaze remained distant. "We've seen the power of the heralds, and now this Seraphis. But do we even know what we're really up against?"
"No," Sylas admitted, his hand tightening around his sword. "Not completely. But we can't wait to find out the hard way. The rift isn't the only problem. The heralds—they're only part of the larger picture. Something, or someone, is orchestrating all of this. We need to find out who."
As the wind picked up again, sweeping across the land, the silence between them stretched. The ground was still smoking from the storm, but there was an eerie sense of peace—a brief calm before the true storm would come. Sylas knew that, no matter what, they had only delayed the inevitable. The Void would return, and when it did, it would come with a vengeance.
"Then what's our next step?" Alira asked, her eyes now focused on him, the weight of their situation heavy in her gaze.
"We need allies," Sylas said after a long pause. "And we need information. The heralds may have retreated, but there are others out there—others who might know more about the Void. We'll have to seek them out, even if it means going into places we're not ready for."
"And where exactly are we supposed to find these allies?" Alira's voice was skeptical. "We don't even know who's out there."
Sylas's lips pressed into a thin line. "We start with the Archmages. The Elders of the last bastion of magical power left in this world. If anyone knows how to stop the Void, it will be them."
Alira raised an eyebrow. "The Archmages? You do realize they're not exactly known for being friendly with outsiders, right?"
"I know," Sylas said, his tone grim. "But if we're going to stand a chance, we'll need their help. And we need to act quickly."
The reality of their situation was beginning to set in. They could not do this alone. They needed the knowledge and power of the Archmages to combat the Void's return. And if the Archmages refused to help? Then Sylas would find another way. Whatever it took.
"But we're going to need more than just information," Alira continued, stepping closer to him. "If the Void's return is inevitable, then what we really need is power. We'll need more than just knowledge—we need to be stronger, too."
Sylas nodded in agreement. They had barely survived the last battle. They needed to be better prepared for what was to come. And that meant tapping into the deepest, most ancient sources of power. Power they could barely comprehend, but power that could change the tide of the coming war.
"That's why we need to go to the Archmages," Sylas said. "They hold secrets, relics, and artifacts from ancient times. If anyone can help us, it's them."
Alira studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, with a single nod, she spoke again. "Alright. We'll find them."
"We don't have much time," Sylas added, his expression hardening. "The longer we wait, the stronger the Void becomes. The heralds were just the beginning."
As the two of them turned to leave the ruined battlefield behind, a low growl echoed in the distance—a sound like thunder, but far too close. Sylas froze for a moment, his senses snapping to attention. He turned toward the sound, his grip on his sword tightening instinctively.
Alira was already reaching for her own blade, ready for anything.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice tense.
"I did," Sylas replied, his eyes scanning the horizon. The ground beneath them vibrated, and the air felt heavy with an unnatural force. Something was coming—and it was not just the storm.
In the distance, the dark silhouette of a massive creature appeared, emerging from the smoke and mist. It was unlike anything they had ever seen—larger than any beast, with wings like jagged obsidian, and eyes that gleamed with a cold, malevolent intelligence.
The heralds had warned them. The Void's return was inevitable. And now, it seemed, the heralds' warnings were becoming a terrifying reality.
Sylas's voice was low but resolute. "We need to move. Now."
As they sprinted toward the nearest cover, the creature's wings unfurled, sending a shockwave through the air. It was only the beginning of what was to come.