Liora's heart still raced as the storm raged on. Her breath was ragged, bloodied hands still trembling. The battlefield was silent now—too silent. The echoes of death hung in the air like a smothering fog, the storm itself a muted witness to the carnage she'd wrought.
And yet, it wasn't over.
In the distance, beyond the horizon of ruined buildings and broken earth, she could sense it. The unmistakable pull of magic, a web woven from the very bones of the world. The White Circle's influence was vast, its tendrils still reaching, despite the blood-soaked vengeance she had unleashed. They would come again. Stronger. Angrier.
They always did.
Liora's fingers curled into fists at her sides. She hadn't expected this kind of war—didn't expect to feel the weight of her power so deeply. It was intoxicating, like a drug, but it left a hollowness in her chest, an emptiness that threatened to consume her.
She looked down at her blood-streaked hands.
Nyssa.
She hadn't been able to save her. She hadn't even been able to mourn her properly.
The Codex had promised her power. It had given her strength, yes. But the cost? It was more than she could have anticipated. The path she walked was one of shadows, and the deeper she went, the harder it would be to climb back out.
But there was no going back now.
Liora had a purpose.
She turned, her eyes flashing like embers in the rain.
The White Circle would come, yes, but they would never expect what was coming for them.
Liora wasn't alone anymore.
She had gained something in the ruins of the battlefield—something she hadn't planned on.
Somewhere beneath the broken remains of a shattered temple, Liora found it.
A relic. Not just any relic.
The Heartstone.
A glowing orb of pulsing energy, it was hidden beneath layers of dust and old magic. It hummed with power—wild, untamed, ancient.
A piece of history.
A weapon.
Her fingers hovered over it for only a moment before she snatched it up.
The moment her palm made contact, the stone surged with life, lighting her vision with streaks of red and gold. The magic coursed through her veins, filling the void she had been struggling to understand.
It felt...wrong.
Liora gasped, her body trembling as if it couldn't keep up with the sudden influx of energy.
Her mouth went dry as she fought to control the power rushing through her like an unstoppable tide.
And then, a voice echoed through her mind.
"You think you can wield me, little necromancer?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The voice wasn't real. It couldn't be. But it was there, inside her head.
Liora gritted her teeth and pulled the magic tighter, forcing it to bend to her will. She was the master now.
"You'll regret this," the voice hissed, but she wasn't listening.
Liora slammed her hands down on the stone, her magic cracking the earth beneath her as she released her hold on the Heartstone.
In the distance, the rumble of thunder grew louder.
Hours later, Liora stood on the edge of the ruined temple, overlooking the valley below. The storm had passed, but the world still seemed to shudder beneath her feet. The Heartstone was pulsing within her, its energy still burning like fire in her veins.
And in the distance, she saw them.
The White Circle's soldiers, marching toward her. Dozens of them, their armor glinting under the fading light.
Liora smiled darkly.
She was done being hunted.
The first group of soldiers barely saw her coming.
One moment, they were marching in formation, the hum of their armored boots muffled by the wet earth. The next, the ground exploded beneath them.
Tendrils of shadow rose from the earth like serpents, twisting around their legs, their arms, pulling them into the soil itself. Their screams were swallowed by the ground as they vanished into the earth.
Liora stepped forward, her hand raised, her heart steady.
The White Circle soldiers were scrambling now, their formation falling apart as more and more of them were ensnared by the magic she wielded.
She moved through them like a phantom, her eyes glowing with the dark energy that had claimed her. She didn't need to speak. She didn't need to give orders. The Codex had granted her power, and it was her command now.
They fought back—some of them with magic, others with swords, their movements desperate.
But they were nothing compared to the storm she had become.
With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a wave of ethereal fire, consuming the soldiers in an instant. Their bodies turned to ash, their screams fading into nothingness.
She wasn't just a necromancer anymore.
She was a force.
One man remained.
A towering figure, his armor black as night, his face hidden beneath a crimson mask.
Liora's eyes narrowed as she watched him approach, his steps heavy, purposeful.
"You're the one who's been hunting us," Liora said, her voice cold. "Your Circle isn't safe here anymore."
The masked man raised his hand, and a bolt of lightning streaked from the heavens, aimed directly at Liora. She didn't flinch. Instead, she raised her own hand and caught the lightning, the energy bending to her will.
Her laugh was cold, bitter.
"You're nothing compared to what's coming," Liora said, her eyes burning with rage.
The masked man said nothing, but she felt the shift in the air.
It was a challenge.
And Liora was ready to face it.
But as she prepared to strike, the air around them shimmered.
A ripple ran through the world itself.
And from the depths of the earth, something else stirred.
Liora's eyes widened as the ground beneath her feet trembled.
She hadn't just broken the Circle. She had awakened something.
And the world would never be the same.