A week later, Hana, Kenji, Aerion, and a team of elite warriors and mages set out for the Eastern Wastes. The journey took them through vast plains and dense forests, where they saw firsthand how much Eldoria had changed—human farmers working alongside elven herbalists, vampire merchants trading goods with everyone they met.
When they reached the Eastern Wastes, the landscape shifted dramatically. Green fields gave way to cracked earth and jagged rock, and the air grew cold and still. In the distance, they could see the outline of massive ruins, half-buried in sand and time.
As they approached the ruins, Hana felt a strange pull—a sense of recognition that she couldn't explain. The Orb of Equilibrium, which she had brought with her, began to glow softly, as if responding to something in the ruins.
"This is it," Aerion said, gesturing to a large structure at the center of the ruins. "The energy is strongest there."
They entered the structure carefully, their torches casting dancing shadows on walls covered in ancient symbols. Hana ran her fingers over the carvings, feeling a surge of magic that made her skin tingle.
"These symbols… they're talking about balance," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "The balance between light and dark, life and death, all races of Eldoria."
Kenji studied the carvings beside her. "They mention a guardian," he said. "Someone who was meant to ensure the balance was maintained. But the text is damaged—something happened here. Something terrible."
As they moved deeper into the structure, they reached a large chamber with a stone pedestal in the center. On the pedestal lay a crystal, dark and cracked, pulsing with faint energy.
"The source of the magic," Aerion whispered.
Hana stepped forward, the Orb of Equilibrium growing brighter. As she reached for the dark crystal, it suddenly flared to life, and a figure materialized before them—tall, cloaked, and glowing with faint light.
"I have been waiting," the figure said, its voice like wind through stone. "Waiting for those who understand the true meaning of balance."
The figure removed its hood, revealing a face that was neither young nor old, human nor elf nor vampire—a being of pure magic, the guardian spoken of in the carvings.
"I am Lyra," the guardian said. "I have watched over these ruins for ten thousand years, waiting for the ones who could restore what was broken."