The clerics’ enclave stood silent, a stark contrast to the usual hum of life and light that filled its marble halls. The sisters approached cautiously, their weapons drawn. The air was heavy with magic, the runes etched into the enclave’s white stone walls faintly glowing green.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Nyssa muttered, scanning the perimeter. “It’s too quiet.”

  Rhea held up a hand, signaling for silence. The sisters moved as one, their boots crunching softly on the gravel path that led to the enclave’s main gate. Nala clutched her small buckler tightly, her eyes darting nervously to the faintly flickering carvings.

  “This… this isn’t normal,” Nala said, her voice trembling. “The runes are meant to repel corruption, but they’re… reacting to something.”

  “Something inside,” Zarya said, her voice low. Her grip on her quarterstaff tightened, and the shard at her side pulsed faintly, as if in response to the magic saturating the air.

  “Stay together,” Rhea ordered. “Whatever’s in there, we face it as a family.”

  The sisters pushed open the heavy oak doors to the main hall. The sight inside made them freeze.

  The grand chamber, usually immaculate and serene, was in disarray. Tables and chairs lay overturned, the air thick with the acrid scent of burned wood. Several clerics were slumped against the walls, unconscious or writhing in pain. Their once-pristine robes were stained with dark, tar-like streaks that seemed to pulse faintly.

  “Oh no,” Nala whispered, rushing forward to kneel beside one of the fallen clerics. Her hands hovered uncertainly over the woman’s still form.

  “Careful, Nala,” Vira warned, stepping closer with her warhammer at the ready. “We don’t know what’s causing this.”

  Nala ignored the warning, her expression determined. “She’s alive, but her pulse is weak.” She glanced up at Zarya. “Can you sense anything?”

  Zarya knelt beside her, closing her eyes and focusing. The shard at her side flared briefly, and she winced as a wave of energy washed over her.

  “It’s the corruption,” Zarya said grimly. “It’s trying to feed on them.”

  As the sisters spread out, they found more signs of a struggle—singed walls, faint scorch marks on the floor, and shattered glass. A few clerics stumbled into view, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes glowing faintly with the same green light as the runes.

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  “They’re corrupted,” Nyssa said, her voice tight. She drew an arrow from her quiver, aiming at one of the approaching clerics. “But… they don’t seem fully gone.”

  “We’re not killing them,” Rhea snapped, stepping in front of Nyssa’s bow. “They’re not our enemies.”

  “They will be if they attack us,” Nyssa retorted, but she lowered her bow reluctantly.

  Nala stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly with healing light. “Let me try something.”

  The corrupted cleric nearest to her twitched and lunged, but Vira intercepted with her shield, forcing the figure back. Nala knelt quickly, pressing her glowing hands to the cleric’s temple. The green light in the cleric’s eyes flickered, then dimmed, and the figure slumped unconscious.

  “It worked,” Nala said, her voice trembling but triumphant. “They can be saved.”

  Before the sisters could celebrate, a low, distorted voice echoed through the hall. “You should not have come.”

  A figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the chamber, cloaked and indistinct. Their face was obscured, but their presence radiated malice. The air grew colder, the green glow of the runes intensifying as the figure raised a hand.

  The corrupted clerics around the hall staggered to their feet, their movements suddenly coordinated. They turned toward the sisters as one, their eyes glowing fiercely.

  “Get ready!” Rhea shouted, raising her greataxe.

  The battle erupted in chaos. Vira held the front line, her warhammer swinging in wide arcs to keep the corrupted clerics at bay. Nyssa moved swiftly, her arrows striking non-lethally to disable rather than kill. Eira’s spear danced through the air, her precision keeping the sisters’ flanks protected.

  Nala darted between her sisters, her healing light keeping them standing as they absorbed blows. She stumbled once, narrowly avoiding a corrupted cleric’s swipe, but Zarya was there to pull her back.

  “Focus!” Zarya snapped, her quarterstaff striking the cleric in the chest. “We can’t afford mistakes.”

  The shadowed figure watched impassively, then raised their hand again. A wave of green energy surged outward, slamming into the sisters and driving them back.

  “You are strong,” the figure hissed. “But not strong enough.”

  With a flick of their hand, the figure gestured to the altar at the center of the chamber, where a gleaming artifact rested—a crystalline amulet radiating faint light. The figure’s hand shot forward, and the amulet flew into their grasp.

  “Stop them!” Rhea bellowed, charging forward. But the corrupted clerics swarmed, forcing the sisters to defend themselves.

  The shadowed figure retreated into the misty shadows of the enclave, the artifact clutched in their hand. Their distorted voice echoed behind them. “The past belongs to me now.”

  As the corrupted clerics fell one by one, the sisters regrouped, but the figure was gone. The clerics who had been subdued began to recover, their eyes clearing as the green light faded.

  “We failed to stop them,” Vira muttered, slamming her warhammer against the floor in frustration.

  “No,” Rhea said firmly. “This isn’t over. They’ve taken something important, and we’ll get it back.”

  Zarya glanced at the shard, its faint pulse a reminder of the danger they faced. “Whatever they’re planning,” she said quietly, “it’s tied to this. And it’s only going to get worse.”

  The sisters exchanged grim looks, their resolve hardening as they turned their gaze toward the distant Blighted Plains.