Crimson twilight spilled over the shattered plains, bathing the broken leyline paths in a glow that pulsed like veins beneath the skin of the world. Valerian's party moved swiftly across the fractured terrain, their steps illuminated by cracks of raw mana that shimmered with volatile energy. Their destination loomed ahead: the Obsidian Threshold, a once-celestial testing ground now corrupted by Nyzrax's escape, its spires twisted into jagged silhouettes against the blood-orange sky. The air buzzed with instability, every breath they took heavy with arcane power, ready to erupt at the slightest misstep. The realm itself seemed alive, trembling with anticipation—or fear.
Lira broke the silence, her voice sharp and breathless as she gripped her shadowfire bow. "You feel that, don't you? The pulse?"
Valerian nodded grimly, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. "Seal Two is trembling."
