The silence in the cramped slum shelter was absolute, broken only by the ragged, terrified breathing of the enforcer pinned against the doorframe.

Vane’s eyes were wide, fixed on the gleaming, spell-forged edge of Kaelen Thorne’s blade resting flush against his throat. A single bead of blood welle

The slums erupted into absolute chaos.

The wailing of the Rift Sirens was a physical force, pressing against Elara’s eardrums as she and Kaelen sprinted out of the shelter and into the narrow, winding streets of the lower ring. Above them, the sky was tearing open.

Massive, swirling vortexes of

The sound of the Vance Manor’s protective dome fracturing was not a loud explosion, but a high-pitched, agonizing shriek of dying magic. It echoed through the opulent marble halls, vibrating in the teeth of everyone cowering inside.

In the central atrium, the massive, sapphire-hued wardstone that