The Nexus Spire loomed ahead, its glow brighter than ever as Rowan approached. The shard in his pocket pulsed violently, its rhythm matching the escalating hum of the spire. The air felt heavier, charged with magic that prickled against his skin. Shadows rippled at his feet, eager but still sluggish compared to their vitality in the Riftwood.

  The streets were empty, but Rowan could feel the tension in the city. The shard had guided him here for a purpose, and whatever lay ahead was drawing closer. His grip on the Riftwood’s power tightened, coiling around his thoughts like a whisper.

  He stepped into the plaza surrounding the spire, his sharp gaze scanning the area. Glyphs on the spire’s surface flared, their light bright enough to cast the entire plaza in stark relief. The shard pulsed again, aligning with the spire’s energy. Rowan could feel it now—a resonance, almost a calling.

  But before he could take another step, a figure appeared.

  Magister Kaelen stood at the base of the spire, his dark robes billowing slightly in the magical wind. The glyphs embroidered into the fabric glowed faintly, resonating with the spire’s light. His expression was calm, but his sharp eyes burned with purpose.

  “You don’t belong here,” Kaelen said, his voice carrying across the plaza like a blade slicing through the air.

  Rowan stopped, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade. The shadows at his feet rippled, reacting to his tension. “And you think you can stop me?”

  Kaelen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think. I know.”

  Without another word, Kaelen raised his hand. The glyphs on his robes flared, and a wave of energy surged toward Rowan. The air cracked with magic, the force rippling across the plaza like a tidal wave.

  Rowan moved quickly, his shadows coiling around him to absorb the impact. The force pushed him back a step, but he held his ground, his sharp gaze fixed on Kaelen.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Rowan said coldly.

  Kaelen’s expression darkened. “As you wish.”

  Kaelen moved with precision, weaving threads of magic into intricate patterns. The glyphs around him flared brightly as arcs of energy shot toward Rowan, their light crackling like lightning. Rowan countered with his shadows, shaping them into a jagged shield that absorbed the blasts before lashing out like a whip.

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  The ground beneath them trembled as their powers collided, sending cracks spidering across the cobblestones. The spire’s hum grew louder, its glyphs flickering erratically as the resonance between the shard and the spire intensified.

  Rowan darted forward, his shadows surging ahead of him like a wave. Kaelen responded with a wall of glyphs that shimmered into existence, deflecting the attack with a deafening crash. The force of the collision sent shockwaves through the plaza, rattling nearby buildings.

  The battle wasn’t contained to the spire’s plaza. The energy released from each clash rippled through Kethra, disrupting the city’s delicate magical balance. Glyphs on buildings flickered, their light dimming as the spire’s hum reached an unstable pitch.

  Guards rushed toward the spire, their armor clinking as they moved in formation. The plaza filled with shouts and the sound of boots on stone, but the guards hesitated as they reached the edge of the battle. The raw power radiating from Rowan and Kaelen was palpable, forcing them to shield their eyes as another wave of energy erupted between the combatants.

  Rowan pressed forward, his shadows coiling into a jagged blade that he swung toward Kaelen. The Magister countered with a barrier of glyphs, but the force of Rowan’s strike shattered the barrier, sending shards of energy scattering into the air.

  Kaelen staggered but quickly recovered, his hands moving in precise motions as he conjured a spear of light. He hurled it toward Rowan, the weapon crackling with power as it tore through the air. Rowan dodged, the spear grazing his shoulder and leaving a searing burn.

  Rowan gritted his teeth, his shadows responding with renewed ferocity. They surged outward, forming a massive, clawed hand that raked across the plaza, tearing through stone and scattering the guards who dared to venture too close.

  Kaelen countered with a burst of energy that slammed into Rowan, knocking him back. The shard in Rowan’s pocket flared brightly, its pulse aligning with the spire’s hum as the resonance reached a fever pitch.

  The ground beneath them trembled violently, and the spire’s glyphs pulsed in chaotic rhythms. The shard’s light grew blinding, its pulse overpowering Rowan’s senses. The Riftwood’s whispers surged, threading through his mind with a clarity that made him stagger.

  This is what you were meant to find.

  Rowan’s eyes widened as the shard’s energy coalesced, forming a beam of light that shot toward the spire. The beam struck the glyphs, and for a moment, the entire city seemed to freeze. The hum of the spire reached a crescendo, and a massive shockwave erupted from its base, sending both Rowan and Kaelen sprawling.

  As Rowan struggled to his feet, his gaze locked on the spire. The shard’s light had fused with the glyphs, revealing an intricate pattern that spiraled upward toward the spire’s peak.

  “What… is this?” Kaelen murmured, his voice filled with both awe and dread.

  Rowan didn’t answer. The shard’s purpose had become clear: the spire wasn’t just a source of power—it was a gateway, a tether to something far older than Kethra itself. And the shard was the key.

  The Riftwood’s whispers echoed in Rowan’s mind, their meaning finally clear.

  The threads must be untangled.