The Ember's Call

monic curses that clawed at her soul. Kael gripped Torren's hand, his warmth anchoring her against the dark. His eyes, raw with fear and devotion, met hers, and she felt a surge of love-fierce

call of "Lysandra." Soren's staff flickered, her eyes darting to Lys with distrust. "Ke

with necromantic energy, and the air thrummed with the screams of souls bound by a dark god's will. Kael's light flared, a radiant cross shimmeri

ed like the First Martyr's sacrifice, pure and unyielding. "Together," she

with demonic hunger. Soren traced a rune, her magic faltering against the curse. "This place is

ire. Its claws dripped with blood-curse, each step cracking the stone. Lys's lute sang, weaving a frail ward, but the golem's roar

stepping forward, the ember's dark pulse clawing at her heart. The light poured from her, a radiant tide of grace, l

ice breaking. "I need you." His words were a confession, raw and desperate, and Kael's light flared brighter

aid, and their eyes locked, a moment of eternity amidst chaos. The light surged, a holy

es haunted by the goddess's call. They climbed, the tower shaking, demonic whispers echoing from below. At th

vision gripped her: Valthor, wreathed in hellfire, offering her soul to a dark god. Her light pulsed, a cross blazing in her mind, whisper

hed with demonic sigils. The gate shattered, and a demon rose-a colossus of shadow and flame, its wings dr