The shadows in the mirror twisted, swirling in a mad dance, as if sensing Jorin's presence. His heart pounded, every instinct screaming for him to turn back, yet he held his ground, his gaze locked onto Evans's face within the glass. His friend's eyes, once filled with light and determination, were now hollow, a darkness swirling within them. "Evans…" Jorin whispered, reaching toward the mirror again. But as his fingertips brushed the cold surface, the darkness surged forward. Shadows poured from the glass, spilling out like smoke and taking shape around the clearing. They formed spectral figures with vague, distorted faces-their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Each was a twisted reflection of the humans they had once been, shadows of the ancient guardians who had once protected the crown. Mara and Kellan instantly prepared their arms, one to either side of Jorin, while Sir Garen clutched his sword before them, protectively. The shad

The quiet in the throne room seemed unusually tense as Evans sat in his place, surveying the court. This should be a moment of triumph, fresh from their victory over the Shadow Lord, but an unshakeable feeling of unease had settled upon him. Bizarre occurrences still plagued the kingdom even while the Shadow Lord was defeated. Rumors of unrest, strange behavior amongst familiar faces, and growing distrust apparently infected the townsfolk like some sort of slow-spreading illness. He'd also noticed the change in the air within his court. Everyone around him seemed distant, some even going so far as to whisper amongst themselves when they thought him not watching. Advisors that had spoken to him with confidence and conviction now stuttered and looked about with furtive glances. Evans could feel the shadows creeping back in, this time not overt as before, not so clearly defined. It was a more insidious kind of darkness, similar to poison dripping into the veins of his ki

The walk back from the Cave of Echoes was not at all victorious. Evans grasped the Amulet of the First Light, its luminous shine starkly contrasted with the gloom hanging over his group. Every step was an ordeal. The trials of the cave might have tested their resolution, but the way back home was filled with tension, which betrayed the fact that treachery could be sitting in any shadow.Sir Garen led the way, his sword at the ready as his eyes scanned the thick forest for any sign of movement. Brynna followed closely, her gaze flickering from the amulet to the path ahead, her healer's intuition sensing danger as yet unseen. Jorin and Mara brought up the rear, whispering in hushed tones about the political unrest gripping the kingdom in their absence."We need to move faster," Evans said, low but firm. "Cedric won't sit idly by now that we have this."Brynna nodded. "The amulet is powerful, but its light will draw attention. Shadows, whether magical or mort

The throne room was silent now but for the soft crackle of the extinguished shadows. The shattered remains of Cedric's shadow crown lay scattered across the floor, faintly shimmering as if they retained a fraction of the dark power that had consumed him. Evans stared at the fragments, his chest rising and falling heavily from the battle. He had won-at least, it felt like it-but a deep unease churned in his gut. Evans," Brynna called softly, her voice hoarse. She crouched beside one of the freed citizens who had been under Cedric's control. "They're alive but barely. Whatever spell he used drained them to their core. Evans knelt next to her, placing a hand on the unconscious villager’s shoulder. The man’s face was pale, his body trembling as though caught in an endless nightmare. Around the room, others in the same condition lay scattered, broken but alive. “We’ll get them help,” Evans said, his tone firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at

It wore a deep night, and, it seemed, the treetops pulsed through the darkness with life-thoughts in an unnatural, extended stillness. By this time, Evans knew that weight against his chest was more than an innocuous mass of material, being now quite sensitive to the near presence of a great, moving evil. It had, after all, brought them thus far, and its light was now a blaze compared to what Evans could recall as he made their way toward the loyalists' camp. He glanced at his comrades: Mara, her daggers faintly glinting in the dark; Brynna, who had muttered softly under her breath; Jorin, his hand firm on the hilt of his sword. Garen led ahead, a mask of concentration etched across his face. "We are close," Garen uttered in a low tone. Evans nodded. "We keep to the plan. We find Seraphine, stop the ritual, and get the fragments before they can complete the crown." Yet with their push onward, a seed of disquiet began to nes