The Black Summit loomed like a jagged blade in the sky, cutting through the clouds and drawing the storm closer. Jack's pulse throbbed in his temples, each step they took in the frozen wilderness feeling heavier than the last.
The cold gnawed at their bones, but it wasn't the chill that made Jack shiver. It was the growing weight in the air—the sense that something ancient and hungry was awakening. It clawed at his insides, pushing against his ribs as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Behind him, Kael stumbled slightly, but Nyssa remained eerily calm, her eyes scanning the landscape with quiet focus.
"We won't make it," Kael said, his voice tight with frustration. He wiped a thin layer of frost from his cloak, glancing at Jack. "By the time we get to the summit, the rift will be fully open. She'll be calling it—calling the Devourer."
Jack clenched his fists, his body already trembling with an energy he could not yet control. He felt the Devourer's presence as an invisible pressure pushing down on him from the heavens. The storm was no longer a weather phenomenon—it was a harbinger of something far worse, something beyond their understanding.
"We'll make it," Jack said, though even his own words felt hollow. He was beginning to wonder if there was any truth in them. Was he truly strong enough to stop Isolde and the Devourer? Or had he already sealed his fate the moment he stepped into the Sanctum?
Nyssa's voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and urgent. "We're too close now. The rift—it's already begun."
The ground beneath their feet quaked violently, and Jack's breath caught in his chest. A ripple of dark energy surged through the mountains, far more powerful than any wind or natural force. It was as if the very earth itself was reacting to the rift opening—a deep, unsettling growl from the heart of the world.
Suddenly, the skies above them split with a deafening roar.
A tear in the heavens—a chasm of endless blackness that seemed to swallow the very light around it—began to form. It was not just a storm; it was an unholy wound in the fabric of reality, and it was growing wider with every second.
Jack felt it in the pit of his stomach—the Devourer. Its presence surged forward from beyond the veil, and Jack could almost hear it. The screams of shattered worlds. The agonized wails of forgotten realms. The taste of magic being devoured, piece by piece.
"We're running out of time," Kael muttered, eyes wide as the rift grew.
They were too close. Too close to the storm that would devour them all.
Without warning, the earth beneath them cracked open. From the deep fissures, shadows began to emerge—tall, skeletal figures cloaked in dark mist, their eyes glowing a malevolent crimson. They were wraiths—horrific soldiers of Isolde's making, stitched together from grief and hate. They moved with terrifying speed, their shapes blurring in the cold wind.
Jack's heart raced. The wraiths were closing in fast, and with every step they took, the storm above grew fiercer. The ground shook again, this time with the weight of something much larger.
From the abyss, a figure stepped forward—a dark silhouette against the glowing rift. It was like a living shadow, its form shifting, blending into the darkness. Jack could feel its presence without even seeing its face—something far older than any mortal being. Something more powerful than he could ever hope to understand.
"The Warden of the Maw," Nyssa breathed, her voice tense with dread.
The Warden didn't speak. It simply moved, its long, tattered cloak trailing behind it like an extension of the abyss itself. A twisting force of pure malice.
Jack's instincts screamed at him to run. But he knew there was no escape. Not now.
Kael charged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light, but the Warden raised a hand. With a flick of its wrist, Kael was hurled back with a force that sent him crashing into the snow, his sword falling from his grip.
"Get up!" Jack shouted, but Kael didn't respond. His body was unmoving, his breath shallow.
"Damn it," Jack muttered, fighting to keep his focus. He felt the surge of his power deep within, like a sleeping beast stirring. But even that power was barely a match for the Warden. Not yet.
Nyssa's voice cut through his thoughts. "We have to reach the summit. The Warden won't stop us unless we let it."
The words rang in Jack's mind like an echo. "We have to stop it."
Without thinking, Jack surged forward, Nyssa beside him, as the Warden closed in on Kael's still form. The wraiths moved to intercept them, their cold fingers outstretched, reaching for their very souls.
The battle was upon them, and Jack could feel the weight of it pressing in on him. His power surged, but it felt wild, uncontained. His connection to the Sanctum was deepening, yes, but it was also unstable—risky.
As they drew closer to the summit, the rift tore open wider. Jack could see it now—a vortex of writhing energy, pulling at the very fabric of their world.
"We're running out of time," Nyssa repeated, her eyes narrowed in determination.
Jack didn't speak, but he nodded, feeling the storm—and the Devourer—closing in on all sides. There was no turning back now.
In the distance, the fortress atop the summit stood like a dark crown, the rift pouring through it like molten black fire.
And Jack knew—if they didn't stop Isolde now, Vaelmir itself would fall.