Whatever was happening on the main island—it was only bad news.
Velren's thoughts raced as he took in the sight of the distant citadel, its levitation core flickering into nonexistence. A sense of urgency gripped his chest, but he forced himself to think. He needed a plan.
First—where the hell is he?
This island... it was unfamiliar. Dark cliffs, jagged terrain, an eerie quiet hanging in the air like a held breath. He was nowhere near the main island—far, far from it. The citadel stood as a distant silhouette, separated by fragmented isles, impossible to reach by conventional means. If something was happening there, he wasn't in a position to do anything about it—not yet.
Second—who activated the teleportation?
That light—that consuming brilliance that engulfed the main hall. Someone triggered it, someone set it into motion. And yet, as far as he could tell, no one else was here. Had this been pre-planned? Or was it something beyond even that?
