The cold stone halls of Maldrak’s castle stretched before them, dark and hollow. Ilara and Varrian moved swiftly, their footsteps echoing against the marble floor as they neared the final gate. The exit loomed ahead, heavy iron doors standing like silent sentinels. Their mission in Theradrin was complete; they had delivered the Council’s request and now prepared to leave.


    Then the doors slammed shut.


    A deep, resonant clang reverberated through the chamber, the sound of fate sealing itself against them. The torches along the walls flickered as shadows twisted unnaturally, pooling into the center of the room. And from the darkness, a figure emerged.


    Maldrak.


    "Leaving so soon?" His voice was silk wrapped in iron. A slow, measured step forward. "I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans."


    Ilara and Varrian turned sharply, weapons already in hand. Maldrak’s presence made the air feel heavier, charged with something unseen but suffocating. His eyes, gleaming like embers beneath a hood of shadow, settled upon them as if he had known this would happen all along.


    Varrian acted first.


    With a thunderous roar, he swung his war hammer, the weight of it cracking the marble beneath his feet as he drove it toward Maldrak. The strike should have shattered bone and flesh, but it met only empty air. Maldrak shifted like a mirage, reappearing effortlessly a few paces away.


    A flick of his hand and a surge of dark energy exploded toward Varrian. He barely had time to brace himself before the force slammed into his chest, sending him skidding back.


    Ilara stepped forward, raising her shield. Aegis Solis, the radiant golden shield, gleamed in the dim light as she braced herself. Maldrak turned his attention to her, his smirk unfazed.


    "You Guardians always struggle against inevitability," he mused, raising one hand. "Let me show you what it means to be powerless."


    A storm of shadow tendrils lashed toward her, writhing and twisting like serpents. Ilara gritted her teeth, slamming her shield down into the stone. A pulse of golden energy erupted outward, disintegrating the darkness in a flash of blinding light.


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    Maldrak''s smile did not fade. If anything, it widened.


    “Yes, yes!!! That’s more like it…”


    Varrian recovered. He shot forward again, swinging his hammer in a devastating arc. This time, Maldrak did not dodge. Instead, his form shimmered, and a protective aura of interwoven darkness and light enveloped him. The hammer struck, but the impact was dulled, absorbed by the unnatural energy surrounding him.


    A single gesture from Maldrak, and a concussive wave of force blasted outward. Varrian was thrown off his feet, crashing against the stone wall.


    Ilara barely had time to react before dark chains shot from the ground, ensnaring her arms and legs. She fought against them, her Astra flaring, but Maldrak’s power was too absolute. The shadows writhed like living things, constricting tighter with every struggle.


    Varrian groaned, trying to rise, but Maldrak turned his gaze toward him, muttering something under his breath. A surge of power coursed through his limbs, unnatural strength crackling around his form. He was enhancing himself.


    "A commendable effort," Maldrak murmured, his voice almost bored. "But this was never a fight you could win."


    Ilara’s heart pounded. Their only chance now was to send word to the others.


    With a last desperate effort, she poured all her remaining strength into Aegis Solis. The shield trembled, its form shifting, molding into a golden eagle. Maldrak’s gaze flicked toward it just as the radiant bird shot through the air, weaving past the chains and shadows, soaring toward the castle’s highest window.


    Maldrak''s expression darkened. He raised a hand, sending a spear of black energy toward the eagle—


    —but it was too late.


    The golden eagle broke through the glass, vanishing into the night sky.


    Ilara exhaled, victorious even in defeat.


    Maldrak turned back to her, his smirk returning. "A message to your friends? Good. Let them come. It will save me the trouble of hunting them down myself."


    Darkness surged. The world blurred. Then, there was nothing.


    Ilara awoke to cold stone beneath her hands. The air was thick with dampness, the scent of mold clinging to the walls. Flickering torches barely illuminated the vast, cavernous dungeon buried beneath Maldrak’s castle. Heavy iron bars lined the cells, and beyond them, grotesque creatures stood guard—twisted forms of darkness given life.


    Varrian sat across from her, his head bowed. His war hammer was gone, stripped from him, and his hands were bound in thick, enchanted chains. His eyes were distant, his jaw clenched.


    "Varrian?" Ilara’s voice was quiet but steady.


    He didn’t look up. "I failed you. I failed my job to protect, again."


    Ilara frowned, shifting closer. "You fought. You stood against Maldrak. That is not failure."


    He let out a bitter chuckle. "I was supposed to protect you. I couldn’t even land a proper hit on him. I let you get injured."


    She placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but reassuring. "You are a Guardian, Varrian. We do not measure victory by survival alone. You did not fail me, nor did you fail yourself."


    Varrian finally lifted his gaze, searching her face for doubt. There was none.


    Before he could speak, a voice broke the silence.


    "Hope still lingers, Guardians."


    The voice was hoarse but steady, echoing from the shadows of the adjacent cell. A prisoner.


    Ilara and Varrian turned toward the sound. A figure sat within the darkness, barely visible beyond the iron bars.


    "You are not the first to be cast down here," the stranger murmured, "but perhaps… you will be the first to escape."


    The torches flickered. The dungeon grew colder.


    His eyes… h—his aura…


    Wh— No! What—what? What did they meet?