The Blighted Plains stretched endlessly around them, a bleak expanse of cracked earth and eerie whispers. The sisters trudged forward, their steps heavy with exhaustion but their resolve unbroken. The faint glow of Zarya’s shard pulsed in rhythm with the strange energy in the air, guiding them deeper into the corrupted land.

  “It’s leading us somewhere,” Zarya murmured, her voice distant. She clutched her quarterstaff tightly, her amber eyes fixed on the faint outline of jagged ruins in the distance.

  “Let’s hope it’s not another trap,” Nyssa said, her sharp green eyes scanning their surroundings for signs of movement. “This place feels wrong, like it’s watching us.”

  Rhea nodded, her jaw set in grim determination. “Keep your guard up. Whatever’s out there, we face it together.”

  The ruins loomed before them, a cluster of crumbling stone structures partially buried in the corrupted earth. Strange runes etched into the weathered stone faintly glowed green, their light flickering as if alive. The sisters exchanged wary glances before stepping into the shadowed entrance of what appeared to be a central building.

  Inside, the air was thick and heavy, the oppressive silence broken only by the sound of their footsteps. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, depicting figures kneeling before towering obelisks, their hands raised in reverence or fear. Zarya’s shard pulsed brighter, casting flickering light across the chamber.

  “This place…” Nala whispered, her voice tinged with awe. “It feels… old. Older than the Spire.”

  “Because it is,” Zarya said, her voice trembling. “The shard—these carvings—they’re connected.”

  As they ventured deeper into the ruins, they stumbled upon a vast chamber lined with shelves carved directly into the stone. Dusty tomes and brittle scrolls lay scattered, their edges frayed with age. At the center of the room, a raised dais held a pedestal inscribed with glowing runes.

  “This must be an archive,” Lira said, her fiery hair catching the light from the runes. “But who built it?”

  “Whoever they were,” Rhea said, stepping closer to the pedestal, “they knew about the obelisks.”

  Zarya approached the dais, her shard resonating with the runes on the pedestal. “There’s something here,” she murmured, placing her hand on the glowing surface.

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  The runes flared to life, and a holographic image projected from the pedestal, forming a swirling map of the obelisk network. Lines of energy connected each obelisk, converging at a central point that pulsed ominously.

  “This… this is the network,” Zarya said, her voice filled with both wonder and dread. “The obelisks aren’t just random—they’re part of something bigger.”

  As Zarya studied the projection, the shard flared again, sending a jolt of energy through her body. Her vision blurred, and the room around her faded away. She found herself standing in a vast, desolate landscape, the sky dark and swirling with storms. Towering obelisks dotted the horizon, their glow pulsating in time with the shard’s energy.

  In the vision, figures clad in ancient armor stood before the obelisks, their faces obscured. They chanted in a language Zarya didn’t recognize, their voices echoing with power. The ground beneath their feet cracked, and streams of light surged toward a central obelisk that dwarfed all others.

  “Balance must be maintained,” a voice boomed in Zarya’s mind, deep and resonant. “Power without restraint leads to ruin.”

  The vision shifted, and Zarya saw a world consumed by corruption. The obelisks, once beacons of order, now radiated chaos, their energy twisting the land and its inhabitants into monstrous forms. The shard in her hand glowed brighter, its light cutting through the darkness but also feeding the chaos.

  “Zarya!” Rhea’s voice shattered the vision, pulling her back to reality.

  Zarya staggered, clutching her quarterstaff for support. Her sisters gathered around her, their faces filled with concern.

  “What did you see?” Rhea asked, her tone urgent.

  “The obelisks…” Zarya whispered, her voice shaking. “They were meant to maintain balance, to control the flow of magic. But something went wrong. They’re corrupted now, and the shard is tied to that corruption.”

  “Then we need to destroy them,” Vira said, her voice firm.

  “It’s not that simple,” Zarya said. “If we destroy them without understanding how they work, we risk unleashing even more chaos.”

  Nyssa frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing. “So what do we do? Just let this corruption spread?”

  “No,” Rhea said, her voice steady. “We find the answers we need. This archive might hold more clues.”

  The sisters began searching the room, poring over the ancient texts and deciphering what they could. Nala discovered a scroll detailing a ritual used to stabilize the obelisks, while Eira found a map marking other ruins connected to the network.

  “We’re not alone here,” Nyssa said suddenly, her voice tense. She drew her bow, her eyes fixed on the shadows at the edge of the chamber.

  A faint rustling sound echoed through the room, followed by the low growl of something inhuman.

  The sisters prepared for battle, their weapons drawn as the growls grew louder. From the shadows emerged corrupted creatures, their twisted forms barely recognizable as human.

  Rhea gripped her greataxe, her expression grim. “Protect the archive. Whatever’s in here, we can’t let it fall into their hands.”

  As the sisters braced for the fight, Zarya’s shard pulsed one final time, casting a faint light over the obelisk map. The lines of energy connecting the network began to flicker, as if responding to the growing threat.

  The corrupted creatures lunged, and the sisters met them head-on, determined to protect the secrets of the ruins—and the hope they held for stopping the corruption.