The Black Divide loomed ahead.
A vast ravine split the land like a scar left by a god's blade. Mist rolled out from its depths, thick and cold, whispering half-formed words that chilled the mind.
Aeren stood at the edge with Elira, peering into the void. "This is where it ends," he said softly.
Elira smirked. "I was hoping we'd get a romantic dinner first."
He chuckled, nerves dancing in his chest. "Let's survive the abyss first."
The Nomadic scouts led them down a hidden trail—ancient, narrow, and treacherous. Glyphs lined the rock walls, pulsing softly. Lyra whispered translations: "Wardings... old Weave signs. This path was used by the First Circle."
Kaelen reached out to touch one. "Still active. Whoever built this knew how to make magic last."
Their descent was silent but tense. Far below, something howled.
At the bottom, they reached a cavern carved from onyx and obsidian. It pulsed with raw, ancient magic. And waiting for them... was the Guardian.
A massive construct of stone and memory, shaped like a knight with wings of crystal. It rose with a low, grinding growl.
"Who seeks the Heart of Hollow?" it demanded, voice echoing from every wall.
Aeren stepped forward. "We do. To protect it. To awaken it."
"You carry the Weave," the Guardian said. "But you carry fear, too."
"I'm not afraid," Aeren lied.
"Then prove it."
The Guardian raised its hand, and a blast of kinetic force sent the group flying.
Bryn smashed into a wall and groaned. "Why is it always the giant crystal golems?"
Zephren rolled to his feet. "We can't fight it like a normal enemy—it's testing him."
"Aeren!" Elira called. "This is your trial!"
Aeren stood slowly, staring down the Guardian.
He drew not on fire or wind—but on the Weave itself.
He sang.
Not words. Notes. Pure sound, pulled from the node's memory.
The Weave responded. Light flared, symbols danced. The Guardian froze.
"You remember," it said. "You are more than fire."
Aeren stepped closer. "I am the story. The spark. The thread."
The Guardian knelt.
"The Heart awaits."
The cavern wall split open. A bridge extended into the darkness, leading to a domed chamber bathed in golden light.
At the center hovered the Heart of Hollow.
A massive, pulsating crystal of raw magic—alive with time.
Lyra gasped. "It's not a node. It's... a memory engine. A song crystal."
Aeren approached.
And from the shadows, they emerged.
The Hollow Crown. Dozens strong. At their head—Aeren's father, and beside him… a new figure.
A woman clad in nightshade armor, eyes silver with void light.
"The Emissary," Zephren whispered. "Their war-sorceress."
The Emissary raised a hand. "The Heart will belong to the Crown. Or it will be destroyed."
Aeren's heart thundered. "Not while I still stand."
She smiled. "Then fall."
The final battle had begun.