I stand in the cracked hall of the Weeping Sage temple, clutching a Void Glass chalice that throbs with ancient power. My heart pounds as I sense its energy—a potent force capable of taming the corruption and perhaps restoring the memories I sacrificed so long ago. But from the dagger at my waist comes a sly, eager laughter that echoes in my mind:

  “If you pour that chalice into me, we will become the strongest being to exist, able to utterly destroy Kael and remake this world in our image.”

  A trickle of temptation creeps up my spine, hot and insistent. My arm, veined with corruption, burns at the prospect of feeding the dagger’s hunger. The fervent pitch of its whisper pulls me deeper into that dark possibility. And part of me wants to believe it—wants to think that with enough power, I could finally end Kael’s threat and banish this nightmare.

  Yet, a fragile voice—Lyra’s—tries to intervene, her words barely audible through the chalice’s thrumming power:

  “No, Eldrin, don’t fall for it. The chalice contains the sacred energy of the Weeping Sage—you have to—”

  She fades before she can finish, as though something has severed the connection. My chest tightens in worry and indecision. I raise the chalice to eye level, feeling its force swirl like a living entity beneath the surface. What am I supposed to do?

  A sudden tremor runs through the Citadel, walls groaning in protest. Footsteps—heavy, measured—echo in the distance, each one striking like a drumbeat of doom. Then a voice booms through the silent streets, resonating off the black stone:

  “You always hesitate, Eldrin. That’s why you’ll lose.”

  I press my lips together, spine tingling with that old, familiar dread. He’s here. Holding the chalice tight against my chest, I hurry out of the ruined temple into a wide plaza. The obsidian buildings loom around me like silent witnesses, their flickering runes casting eerie shadows. And there, at the far end, stands Kael.

  He cuts a striking figure—tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in a cloak that ripples with arcane energy. White scars spiderweb across his face, converging toward an empty socket where Void Glass flickers in place of an eye. The rest of his gaze burns with fierce determination and an arrogance born from centuries of honing dark arts. His very presence exudes power, and the air itself seems to twist around him like a living barrier.

  Kael’s laughter roils across the courtyard, a sound that vibrates the ancient runes under my feet. He tilts his head back, letting loose a resonant, mocking chuckle.

  “For a thousand years I waited for this moment,” he calls, each word rolling with casual menace. “You really surprised us last time—though I doubt you remember anything of it.” His voice alone seems to shake the dusty air, making the runes along the buildings flare in response. “Sealing the Blind Citadel in exchange for what made you you... I never imagined you’d go that far.”

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  My legs feel rooted to the spot, an unsteady blend of fear and determination coursing through me. I will not let him do this. Even without my memories, some fierce sense of duty propels me, pushing back against Kael’s oppressive aura.

  “I won’t let you destroy everything,” I reply, voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll stop you, even if it costs me my life.”

  A flicker of a smile pulls at Kael’s mouth. He studies me with the detached curiosity of a predator, then shakes his head.

  “Destroy everything? Look at you… Once the strongest archmage of this plane, and now…”

  He begins a slow walk across the plaza, each step echoing ominously on the black stone. The dagger at my waist grows impatient, hissing in my thoughts:

  “Feed us the chalice, Eldrin. End this once and for all. This is your only chance.”

  I bite back a surge of nausea. Kael’s presence is overwhelming—like standing before a living storm. My corrupted veins tighten, and the chalice in my hand seems to sing in harmony with my own fear. I’m not sure I can defeat him alone.

  Kael’s voice cuts through my reverie:

  “Come now, Eldrin. There’s no need for us to fight. I can forgive you. Let us walk together once more and truly reform this broken world.”

  At the same time, Lyra’s voice flutters back to life within the Silver Eye Pendant, her tone strained but urgent:

  “Don’t fall for his words! Drink from the chalice, use the Weeping Sage’s power to contain him again. It’s the only way…”

  In that moment, I teeter at the edge of a knife, tugged in two directions—one leads to harnessing the chalice for purity, the other to unleashing the dagger’s gluttonous might. My mind reels from the conflicting forces swirling inside me. My breath grows ragged, my grip slick with sweat.

  Anger and terror boil in my chest, culminating in a raw scream: “AAAHHHGGGGGG!” The primal sound blasts from my throat, my magic ripping free in a wild surge. A shockwave explodes outward, the force flattening nearby structures. The pillars of the Weeping Sage temple crash down in a storm of stone and dust. My own hair whips across my face, and fragments of black rock slice the air.

  When the dust settles, I look up to see Kael standing unruffled, a shimmering barrier of magic wrapped around him like an iridescent shell. He smirks at me, unaffected by the devastation that just leveled half the plaza.

  “So you’re still clinging to that zealot’s influence?” he says, eyeing the Silver Eye Pendant with thinly veiled disdain.

  My pulse pounds in my ears, blood roaring as I fight to maintain control of the magic coursing through me. I clutch the chalice tighter, chest rising and falling with each gasping breath. The dagger’s whispers swirl, the chalice thrums, Lyra pleads, and Kael’s mocking gaze bores into me all at once.

  I want to lash out, to tear that smug expression off his face, but a shred of clarity pierces through my rage. I can’t rush in blindly, not when he commands such power. Yet every fraction of a second I spend hesitating is another inch Kael gains in his quest for the Heart of the Cataclysm. I cannot falter. I have to decide—now.

  Gripping the chalice, I steel myself against the next choice I’m about to make, while Kael’s eyes glint with unspoken challenge. He steps forward again, the quiet hum of his barrier intensifying, and the entire Citadel seems to hold its breath in anticipation.

  For a moment, the world narrows to the two of us—wounded archmage against unstoppable tyrant—poised on the brink of a final reckoning.