Chapter Text
The sky was an ominous crimson, the eerie hues of the eclipse spreading like spilled blood across the heavens. Shadows stretched long and deep, twisting unnaturally over the landscape as if the world itself recoiled from the celestial event. In the distance, the guttural cries of the Antaam warriors echoed, the rhythmic pounding of war drums reverberating through the air.
On the shore of a secluded cove, the group stood in tense silence. Their gazes flicked between the unnatural sky and the rough map Harding was hurriedly sketching in the sand. Her dagger etched lines and shapes into the wet grains, outlining their current location, the surrounding areas, and the path to their destination.
Ellana’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, her jaw clenched tightly. Her heart pounded as the sounds of the army mixed with the crash of waves. Her hands instinctively tightened into fists, the anticipation of the fight ahead coiling tightly in her chest.
“It’s fortunate we weren’t spotted coming in,” Emmrich said lightly, though the distant war cries of the Antaam nearly drowned out his voice.
Bellara paced behind Harding as she sketched. “Morrigan didn’t exaggerate,” she added nervously. “That’s the entire Antaam army over there!”
Ellana knelt beside Harding, rubbing grains of sand between her fingers. The rough texture clung to her gloves as her eyes darted over the crude map Harding had sketched. It was fragmented and ominous, a patchwork of ancient ruins, waterways, and enemy camps. Her mind sifted through the chaos, searching for strategic chokepoints or potential ambush sites that could give them an edge.
The openness of the island felt suffocating. They would be exposed with every step, bare under the eyes of the Antaam and their gods. Still, one thought burned in her mind, holding her steady amidst the whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. “Armies are big and clumsy. We can do this,” Ellana said, her voice firm and resolute. She looked up at her companions. “We have fought the Antaam and Venatori before, not to mention dragons. And we have won.”
She saw Lucanis nod his head in agreement. “If we move quick enough, we will be able to skirt around most of the army and dispatch anyone who gets in our way,” he replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade as he scanned the terrain around them.
Ellana’s jaw tightened. “The gods will know we’re here soon. And so will the Antaam. We need a distraction. One team to draw off that army, and another to stop the gods from finishing their dagger.”
Davrin stepped forward, his tone grim but resolute. “I’ll take half the team and cause some trouble down by the Antaam’s ships.”
Harding stood abruptly. “Wait!” she interjected, raising a hand to Davrin. “I’m the scout. I can get us around this place faster.”
“There will be blight farther up, Harding. And darkspawn,” Davrin countered, his brow furrowed.
“I’ve fought them before,” Harding replied sharply, her voice unwavering. “And I’ve got the Stone on my side.” She squared her shoulders, her diminutive frame carrying the weight of unshakable determination.
Taash stepped closer, their large form a comforting shadow at Harding’s side. Concern flickered in their eyes as they rested a hand on her shoulder. “Lace? Hold on,” Taash murmured, their voice low and hesitant.
Harding’s hand rose to grip Taash’s in return, her touch firm. “Someone has to do this, Taash,” she said softly, though the steel in her words left no room for argument.
Ellana stepped in, her voice calm but decisive. “I’m sorry, Davrin, but Lace is right. This requires a good scout.”
Harding straightened, her chin lifting. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
Ellana nodded, her voice carrying the weight of command. “Emmrich, Neve, and Taash, you go with Lace. The rest of us will get to the gods before they finish their dagger and cut open the Fade.”
As she spoke, the distant roar of Elgar’nan’s Archdemon echoed across the island, a guttural sound that sent a shiver crawling down Ellana’s spine. Bellara let out a startled squeak, and Neve reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of comfort.
Ellana took a deep breath, steadying herself. “As long as he has that Archdemon, he’s invulnerable. Concentrate on Ghilan’nain first.”
Harding shouldered her gear, her gaze sweeping over the group. Her determined expression was like a beacon amidst the rising tension. “Wish me a little luck,” she said lightly.
Ellana stepped closer, her voice dropping as she pulled Harding aside. “Lace…”
Harding smiled, the warmth in her eyes belying the gravity of her words. “Like you said back at the Lighthouse, Rook. We stop the gods. Whatever it takes.”
“Good luck, Lace. The next time we see each other, may it be over Ghilan’nain’s corpse.” Ellana murmured, her voice filled with quiet intensity as she clasped Harding’s shoulder.
◈ ◇ ◈
The island’s haunting beauty stood as a cruel contrast to the chaos that consumed it. The air thrummed with the charged hum of magic, an electric tension that prickled at Ellana’s skin as they made their way across the landscape.
Ancient elven ruins jutted from the ground like skeletal remains of a forgotten age. Shipwrecks dotted the shore, splintered wood and rusted metal half-buried in the sand. Overhead, debris floated unnaturally, suspended mid-air by threads of magic that pulsed and shifted in unnatural patterns. In the distance, the source of their dread loomed: a hovering, castle-like structure bursting with light, its spires reaching defiantly toward the blood-red sky.
“That must be where the gods are making the dagger,” Ellana said, her voice grim as she crouched behind a jagged outcropping of rock.
“The ruins are funnels,” Bellara added, her voice soft but sharp with urgency. “They’re concentrating the magic used for the ritual.”
The group moved swiftly along the beach, their steps urgent but careful as the sounds of the Antaam army drew closer.
The shadows of the ruins shifted, revealing a squad of Antaam warriors moving toward them. Their armor gleamed wickedly in the crimson light, their weapons poised for violence. One warrior shouted as he spotted them, his deep voice echoing across the shoreline.
“Stop them before they raise the alarm!” Ellana hissed, drawing her dagger in one fluid motion.
Lucanis moved without hesitation, Spite’s wings bursting from his back with a sharp crack of air. He propelled himself forward, landing on the furthest Antaam warrior just as the Qunari began to load a bulky explosive launcher. Lucanis’s hand shot out, grabbing the barrel of the launcher and slamming it upward into the warrior’s face with a sickening crunch. The warrior bellowed in pain, but it was cut short as Lucanis’s dagger found the soft tissue of his neck, severing an artery in a spray of blood.
The sand shifted beneath Ellana’s feet as she twisted to dodge a heavy blow from another Antaam’s mace. She dropped low, scooping a handful of sand and throwing it into the warrior’s face. He bellowed, momentarily blinded, and Ellana darted behind him, her blade cutting through the tendons at the back of his knees. He collapsed with a cry, her dagger’s poison sizzling as it worked its way into his system.
A burst of light to her left caught her attention. Bellara stood with her hands outstretched, Fade bolts streaking through the air and striking two Qunari warriors bearing down on Ellana. The force of the magic sent them sprawling, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. Bellara’s face was set with determination, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her brow as she cast another wave of bolts, this time targeting a Qunari aiming a crossbow at Davrin.
Another Antaam charged at Ellana, his blade gleaming wickedly. She sidestepped his swing, her dagger flashing upward to cut deep across his arm. Blood spattered onto the sand as she pressed the attack, her blade striking again and again until the Qunari fell with a heavy thud.
The group barely had a moment to recover before the ground trembled under the weight of something massive. Ellana’s heart sank as her gaze lifted to the figure looming before them—a Reaver, its crimson eyes glowing like embers beneath its horned helmet.
The creature roared a guttural sound that seemed to shake the air itself and charged. Ellana barely had time to move before its massive axe swung toward her. She rolled to the side, the blade missing her by inches and carving a deep trench in the sand.
Lucanis darted in from the side, his dagger striking at the Reaver’s exposed arm. Ellana saw the blade cut deep, but the Reaver didn’t so much as flinch. It turned, swinging its axe in a wide arc that forced Lucanis back. Ellana lunged forward, her blade aiming for the gaps in the Reaver’s armor. She struck his flank, her dagger sinking deep, but the creature’s bloodlust was overwhelming. It barely reacted, its attention fixed on Davrin, who had charged head-on with his shield raised.
Davrin’s shield met the Reaver’s axe with a deafening clang, sparks flying from the impact. The sheer force of the blow sent Davrin stumbling back, but he recovered quickly, his sword flashing as he struck at the Reaver’s side. The creature roared again, this time with genuine pain, as Davrin’s blade cut through the weak point in its armor.
Ellana saw an opening. Her muscles coiled as she sprang forward, her dagger plunging into the Reaver’s chest. It let out a strangled cry, its massive form swaying as Lucanis appeared on its other side. His dagger found the Reaver’s neck, the blade biting deep.
The Reaver staggered, its axe falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Blood poured from its wounds as it collapsed, its body hitting the sand like a felled tree.
Ellana straightened, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she wiped her dagger clean. Her companions stood around her, their expressions weary but resolute.
“Let’s move,” she said, her voice steely with determination.
Their pace quickened as the ruins and the gods’ stronghold loomed closer. The air grew denser with each step, laden with a mix of ancient magic and blighted decay that clung to their skin like a second layer. The ruins around them transformed, their architecture unnatural and unsettling. Vines as thick as a man’s arm twisted through ancient stone buildings, splitting walls and shattering stairways.
Ellana’s gaze flicked to the horizon where the gods’ stronghold loomed. Flashes of light burst from its parapets like fiery warnings, as if the very air itself rebelled against the gods’ work.
The ruins became a labyrinth of ambushes and skirmishes, their shadows teeming with hidden threats. Antaam reinforcements emerged from crumbled archways and shattered alcoves, their guttural war cries echoing through the ruins.
Ellana darted forward as a halberd swept toward her head, the Qunari wielding it snarling. She dropped low, her blade slicing along the seams of his armor, forcing him back with a growl of pain. She turned sharply, catching a glimpse of Lucanis in her periphery. His movements were precise, a deadly rhythm of strikes and parries. His twin blades flashed like silver lightning, finding the vulnerable points in his opponents’ armor. Spite’s wings flickered briefly behind him, giving him an ethereal and commanding presence as he brought down an enemy with a quick, brutal strike to the neck.
A sharp whistle of an arrow snapped Ellana’s focus. She twisted just in time, the arrow brushing past her ear and embedding itself in the stone wall behind her. Ellana hissed in pain as the tip of her flesh was sliced by the barbed arrow. She flung a throwing knife in response, the blade striking the archer and sending them tumbling from their perch.
Behind her, Bellara chanted with fierce intensity, Davrin warding off attackers who dared to come close. The air crackled with magic as Fade bolts shot from her palms, arcing through the air and striking a group of advancing Venatori. The impact sent their bodies crumpling, smoke rising from their charred remains.
Ellana panted as the last Antaam fell, wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. “We need to keep moving before reinforcements arrive,” she said, her voice sharp and urgent.
The group reached the base of the stronghold, where an old rickety elevator waited. Its wooden platform groaned under their weight as rusted gears screeched to life, the mechanism shuddering with each jerk of their ascent. Below, the ruined landscape stretched out, the debris-filled sky casting fragmented shadows over the sprawl.
The voice struck like a dagger to her mind.
“How brave of you to seek me out… Ellana,” Elgar’nan’s voice resonated, dark and melodic, each word laced with menace and power.
Ellana gasped, her knees buckling as her hands flew to her head. The world blurred around her, swallowed by shadow and crimson light. Lucanis’s hands gripped her shoulders. His lips moved urgently, but no sound reached her ears as Elgar’nan’s voice drowned out the world.
“We shall meet…soon.”
The final word reverberated through her skull as her vision snapped back into clarity. The platform shuddered beneath her feet, the rusted gears groaning one last time before halting at the top.
“I just heard Elgar’nan,” she whispered hoarsely, clutching Lucanis’s arm. “He knows we’re here.”
Lucanis’s jaw tightened, his gaze steady and grounding. “We keep moving,” he said firmly.
The platform opened into a sprawling, dimly lit chamber. The walls shimmered faintly, their surfaces carved with Elven glyphs that pulsed with a rhythmic glow. Thick vines snaked along the stone, their roots breaking through the floor in places. The air was damp and heavy, thick with the scent of earth and magic.
Shadows moved above them. Venatori mages leaped from upper balconies like predators, their cloaks billowing as they descended. Ellana moved instantly, meeting the first mage head-on. Her blade clashed against his staff, deflecting his strike before she drove her dagger deep into his ribs.
Behind her, Bellara unleashed a torrent of bolts, the magic ripping through the air and slamming into a cluster of Venatori. Their bodies were hurled backward, crashing into the walls, where they crumpled lifelessly. Lucanis moved like a shadow, his daggers flashing as he dispatched one mage after another. One Venatori lunged at him with a longsword, but Lucanis sidestepped the attack, grabbing the sword’s hilt and using its momentum to drive it into its wielder’s chest.
Ellana’s focus narrowed, her blades finding purchase in one enemy after another as the path ahead cleared. The fight raged around her, a blur of magic, steel, and blood.
The ruins of Tearstone Island grew more oppressive as they pressed onward. The architecture became a cruel mockery of Elven splendor, its grandeur corrupted by creeping blight. Sculptures of long-forgotten gods stood among pools of rot, their regal poses marred by the sickly tendrils of decay that climbed their bases. Shards of green Fade energy flickered unnaturally in the air, illuminating the darkened corners of the ruins with an eerie, pulsing glow.
Ellana’s breath came in quick bursts as they ascended a narrow staircase, her boots scuffing against the uneven stone.
“Antaam!” Ghilan’nain’s voice resonated suddenly, a sharp, ethereal command reverberating through the ruins. “We sense intruders. The same mortals who defied us at Weisshaupt!”
Ellana winced, pressing a hand to her temple as the voice clawed at her mind.
“We have to hurry,” Davrin said, his shield raised as he scanned their surroundings. The staircase opened into a sprawling courtyard, its center dominated by a fractured fountain, the water long since replaced by stagnant blight. At the far end of the courtyard stood a massive iron gate, its metal corroded by centuries of rust.
The group sprinted across the courtyard toward the gate. Harding’s familiar voice rang out from behind it.
“Rook!”
“Harding!” Ellana called back, relief flooding her chest. “Are you okay?”
“We drew off some Antaam, but you have to hurry—more are on their way!” Harding’s voice was laced with urgency, and Ellana could hear the clang of weapons behind her.
“Can you open the gate on your side?” Davrin shouted.
“I think so!” Harding replied, her voice growing fainter as she ran off.
Ellana turned back to the others, her daggers drawn and ready. The ruins around them were too quiet now, the air thick.
Suddenly, the building behind them erupted in a cascade of shattered stone and splintered wood. A massive Reaver emerged, its armor gleaming with blood, its hulking form larger than any Ellana had ever seen. Behind it, mercenaries poured out like a flood, their weapons catching the crimson light of the eclipse.
Lucanis instinctively stepped in front of Ellana as the Reaver let out a guttural roar and charged.
Ellana ducked to the side, her blades flashing as she engaged one of the mercenaries. The clang of steel echoed through the courtyard as Lucanis intercepted the Reaver, his daggers darting like twin vipers against its massive axe. The Reaver bellowed, swinging its weapon in a wide arc that forced Lucanis to leap back, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow.
Bellara summoned a wall of force, her magic crackling through the air as it slowed the Reaver’s advance. Davrin used the opening to lunge forward, his shield slamming into the Reaver’s side with a resounding crash. The impact staggered the beast but didn’t stop it; the Reaver turned with a snarl, swinging its axe in a devastating counterattack.
Ellana fought her way toward the Reaver, dispatching two mercenaries with quick, calculated strikes. One blade caught a man’s throat; the other plunged into a second’s chest. Her focus narrowed as she saw Lucanis go down under the Reaver’s sheer weight, the beast pinning him against a broken column.
“Harding!” Ellana shouted, desperation creeping into her voice as she threw a dagger at the Reaver. The blade embedded itself in the creature’s shoulder, drawing its attention away from Lucanis.
“I’m trying!” Harding’s voice came from beyond the gate, followed by the sound of grinding gears.
Ellana darted forward, slashing at the Reaver’s legs in a relentless flurry. The beast roared, swiping at her with its massive hand. She twisted out of its reach, but pain blossomed in her side as the monster's hand found its mark. She was flung sideways, breath leaving her in a violent huff of air, but Lucanis was already back on his feet. His dagger flashed, driving deep into the Reaver’s exposed neck. The creature let out a final, guttural roar before collapsing in a heap.
The gate creaked open.
“There!” Harding shouted, her face appearing through the narrow opening. “More Antaam are coming. We’ll draw them off!”
Ellana nodded, her breaths ragged as she clutched at her stomach. “We’ll meet you above!” she called back, motioning for her group to move through the gate. Lucanis was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet.
The halls beyond the gate were a grim tableau of ancient craftsmanship warped by blight. Pools of dark, viscous liquid seeped from cracks in the stone, their stench filling the air.
As Ellana led the group through the winding corridors, her head began to throb again. The familiar, unwelcome voice of Ghilan’nain echoed in her mind.
“Antaam. The intruders remain. One bears an instrument from the Dread Wolf,” the goddess said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Our ritual gathers momentum. Power. It cannot be interrupted by mortals.”
Ellana stumbled, clutching at her temple. Lucanis was at her side in an instant, his hand steadying her shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, forcing herself to straighten.
Bellara’s gaze flicked nervously to the walls around them. “The gods’ influence is growing. Look at the Fade tears.” Ellana’s eyes followed Bellara’s gesture. Cracks in the walls shimmered with unnatural light, glimpses of the Fade leaking through like fractured glass.
They stumbled into a massive chamber, the oppressive air thick with magic and decay. The other half of their companions entered through an opposite door, Taash slamming it closed behind them as Emmrich leaned heavily on his staff.
Overhead, the flickering green gash of a Fade tear dominated the space, casting an eerie light that reflected off the tarnished gold statues and warped stone walls. Tendrils of energy snaked down from the tear, crackling as they wove into the very foundation of the room.
“Another Fade tear,” Emmrich said, his voice heavy with dread. “Oceans of magic are coursing around us because of the gods’ ritual.”
“Then we’d better find Ghilan’nain quickly,” Lucanis replied, turning to move through the next passage.
Ellana barely had time to acknowledge his words before Bellara’s sharp intake of breath drew her attention. “Wait, wait, wait!” the mage exclaimed, her voice urgent. “There are wards blocking the way out.” She pointed to the opening at the end of the chamber, faint lines of blood-red energy forming a lattice over its surface. “Blood magic. One touch could kill.”
“How do we get through?” Ellana asked, glancing between the mages.
Bellara’s brow furrowed as she examined the wards. “The patterns are familiar. If I can fracture the harmonics, we might be able to pass through.”
“Fracture them?” Neve interjected grimly, stepping forward. “I deal with blood magic. I can stop the damage long enough to burn out the wards.”
Bellara turned to her sharply. “That’s risky, Neve. Really risky. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“And your way is just as dangerous,” Neve shot back, her tone clipped. “I don’t like it, but one of us has to do it.”
Ellana looked between the two mages, her heart pounding. “Neve, get those wards down. Carefully. If you start feeling overwhelmed, stop, and we’ll find another way.”
Neve nodded curtly and moved to the door, her hands glowing faintly with magical energy. As she worked, Emmrich placed his staff against the ground, the energy from the Fade tear shimmering around him. “I’ll keep this tear in check while you work,” he said. “But with things so unpredictable… I fear anything might happen once we kill Ghilan’nain.”
“Solas said there would always be costs and consequences to fighting gods,” Ellana murmured, her eyes fixed on the tear. “But if we kill Ghilan’nain, snatch the gods’ dagger, and escape? Maybe we prove him wrong.”
Emmrich sighed, his expression grim. “I dearly hope so.”
Neve’s chanting filled the chamber as she manipulated the energy of the ward. Her magic sparked against the blood-red lattice, sending ripples of light through the air. The tension was palpable, every second stretching into an eternity as the group waited in silence.
“Got it!” Neve finally exclaimed, a note of triumph in her voice. She stepped back, brushing her hands off with satisfaction. “Let’s walk out carefully. The gods will have a trap or two waiting.”
“That is a certainty,” came Elgar’nan’s deep, resonant voice.
Ellana’s heart plummeted as she turned just in time to see tendrils of blight curling out of the shadows. They moved with unnatural speed, wrapping around Neve’s legs before she could react.
“Neve!” Ellana screamed, lunging forward, her dagger flashing in the dim light. She managed to sever one tendril, but it was too late. Neve was yanked backward toward a mirror-like surface—a portal that glimmered like an eluvian.
Ellana’s fingertips brushed Neve’s outstretched hand, but before she could pull her free, Neve was swallowed by the portal. Her scream echoed in the chamber as the portal closed, leaving only silence in its wake.
“No!” Ellana shouted, pounding her fist against the now-solid surface. Davrin’s hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her back before she could fling herself into the mirror.
On the other side, a figure emerged from the shadows—Elgar’nan himself. His silhouette was monstrous, voice filling the room, mocking and cruel. “I’ll take the greatest care ensuring your Tevinter mage knows the new face of her Empire.”
Ellana’s breath hitched as he continued. “You can all be forgiven by embracing the wisdom of surrender. Continue, and even the Dread Wolf will regret what I do to his pawn.”
Ellana’s frustration boiled over as Elgar’nan’s shadow disappeared. She shook off Davrin’s hold, stalking toward the now-open doorway. “Come on! Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are still on the island. We can save Neve if we hurry.”
The group moved through the corridors with grim determination, their steps echoing off the ancient stone. Ellana’s voice was low but resolute as she addressed the group. “The gods know we’re coming, but we can still stop them from making the dagger.”
Harding spoke up as she walked quickly beside Ellana. “We can divide their attention.”
Ellana nodded. “Good idea. Half the team comes with me on the main path. Harding and the others keep out of sight and get Lucanis to the ritual.”
Lucanis growled low in his throat, the sound almost animalistic as the violet light flared in his eyes. Ellana froze, recognizing the telltale signs of Spite’s presence pushing through the surface. His voice came out fractured and guttural, each word a sharp staccato. “Stay. With. Ellana,” the demon commanded through Lucanis’s lips, the unnatural cadence sending a shiver down her spine.
Ellana’s gaze flicked to the others, who were already moving ahead, their steps echoing faintly in the corridor. She waited until they were out of earshot before grabbing Lucanis’s arm and pulling him into a shadowed alcove.
Her voice was soft but urgent. “You’re the only one who can kill Ghilan’nain, Lucanis. You and Spite need to focus. You can’t afford to be distracted—not by me. You need to let me go.”
Lucanis stared at her, his chest rising and falling heavily. The flicker of violet in his eyes dimmed, the raw emotion underneath cutting through Spite’s influence. His hands rose slowly, trembling slightly as they cupped her face. His touch was warm and grounding as if trying to anchor them both to this moment.
Before Ellana could say anything else, his lips were on hers. The kiss was hot and desperate, a fiery clash of emotions. His hands slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he could shield her from the chaos surrounding them.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. Ellana could see Spite attempting to force his way through, and she felt a brief pang of sadness. “Stay alive,” he whispered, the plea barely audible.
Lucanis lingered for a heartbeat longer, his fingers brushing against her cheek before he stepped away. His eyes met hers one last time, dark and resolute before he turned and rejoined the others. Her heart twisted painfully, but she clenched her fists, forcing herself to move.
The others were waiting for her, their faint silhouettes just visible through the dim light of the corridor ahead.
Ellana’s heart pounded as they passed through the jagged archway into a vast open area. The scene before them was otherworldly, a chaotic blend of ruin and power. Massive chunks of stone fell intermittently from the crumbling ceiling, smashing into the blighted ground with bone-jarring force. The air itself shimmered unnaturally, thick with magic and the taint of decay.
Blight tendrils writhed across the floor and up the walls like living things, their sickly, oozing lengths twisting and curling as if searching for prey. Some were as thin as rope, others as thick as tree trunks, coiling around shattered Elven statues and broken pillars. The ground was uneven, littered with debris and the remnants of once-grand architecture that now stood as a testament to the gods’ corruption.
The sky above felt as if it were alive with an otherworldly storm, red lightning flaring above them as the eclipse loomed high.
“He has almost completed his dagger,” Emmrich warned, his voice taut with unease.
Ellana swallowed hard, scanning the area. “Where’s Ghilan’nain?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
“On the move,” Lucanis replied, his tone grim. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked across the shadows. “Spite can feel her hunting for us.”
Ellana squared her shoulders. “We didn’t come this far for nothing. Everything the gods have thrown at us? It’s because they know we can win. We’ll kill Ghilan’nain, get Neve back, and then—”
“And then, Elgar’nan,” Harding finished for her, her voice as sharp as her eyes. Her petite frame seemed to radiate determination, her bow held ready. “We’ll hold Ghilan’nain’s attention until Lucanis has a clear shot.”
Ellana nodded. “Good luck.”
Harding gave her a small, grim smile. “Like we said. Whatever it takes.”
The group moved with purpose toward a fork in the path, the oppressive air growing thicker with every step. Ellana pulled the gods’ dagger from her belt, its weight seeming to hum in her hand as she turned to Lucanis. She held it out to him, her gaze steady. “It’s all yours.”
Lucanis took the dagger, his fingers brushing hers briefly before he nodded. “As is Ghilan’nain,” he said sharply, his voice heavy with resolve.
For a moment, he hesitated, his dark eyes locking with hers. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a flicker of fear or hope or both. He turned and ran down the opposite path, his figure quickly swallowed by the shifting shadows of the ruins.
Ellana’s chest tightened as she watched him go, her heart pounding with the weight of uncertainty. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to take a steadying breath. None of them might make it out alive—but she had to believe in the plan, in Lucanis, in all of them.
She turned to her companions. “Let’s move,” she said, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade.