SHADOW REALM

The mist curled around the citadel like a living thing, whispering secrets along the knife-edge battlements. Somewhere in the dark, a bell tolled—soft as a heartbeat, steady as fate.

Arin drew a breath, tasting iron on the wind. The Realm’s veil was thinning. Shadows pressed close, and with them came memories he had sworn to bury; names he could no longer forget.

Above, the sky opened—a bloom of violet and cyan fire, painting the stone with ghostlight. It would be enough to guide him, or to mark his end. Either way, dawn was coming.