The vault collapsed around them in a roar of stone and seawater.
Jacob barely had time to grab Silas's arm before the ceiling caved in. The world became a churning nightmare of crushing darkness and freezing water. His lungs burned. The obsidian pendant at his chest flared violet, cutting through the blackness like a blade—revealing a narrow tunnel in the ruins.
Kicking toward it, Jacob dragged the half-conscious mage through the passage just as the vault sealed behind them with a final, thunderous crash.
They surfaced in a cavern lit by veins of glowing crystal. The air smelled of ozone and wet stone. Silas coughed up seawater, his storm-gray eyes wide. "You... shouldn't have saved me."
Jacob wrenched the soaked journal from his belt. Pages stuck together, but one illustration remained clear: a compass with four needles, each pointing to a floating island. Three were silver. The fourth—the one matching Jacob's pendant—was violet.
The Broken Truth
Silas staggered to his feet. "Alaric wasn't just there during the Sundering. He led it." He pointed to the compass sketch. "The Order calls them 'islands.' They're prisons. Each one holds a piece of the Shard that broke the world."
A cold understanding settled over Jacob. "And my pendant—"
"Is the key to the fourth prison." Silas's voice dropped. "Which means Stormspire isn't just a mountain. It's the first lock."
Above them, the crystals flickered. Distant shouts echoed through the tunnels—Order guards searching the ruins.
The Storm Rises
They fled deeper into the caverns, following the pendant's pulse. The walls narrowed, then opened into a chamber where the air hummed with energy. At its center floated a massive, fractured compass—its surface covered in the same violet runes as Jacob's pendant.
Tara's voice rang out: "Took you long enough."
She stood beside Lysandra, both bloodied but alive. Tara hefted her hammer. "Had to knock out three Sentinels to get here. You owe me new boots."
Lysandra didn't smile. Her golden staff was now streaked with black veins. "Alaric's mobilizing the entire Order. He knows you have the journal."
Silas touched the floating compass. "Then we find the fourth island before he does."
The moment his fingers brushed the metal, the cavern shook. The compass needles spun wildly—then stopped, all four pointing at Jacob.
The pendant burned. The runes on the compass flared violet, and a voice, ancient and hollow, echoed through the chamber:
"The Keeper wakes."
Then the floor gave way.