The air above the ancient ruins of Erh'Nalas crackled with residual magic as the portal, bathed in dark purple light, pulsed like a wound torn through reality. The Council's elite arrived moments too late. The ritual had already concluded.
There were no demons guarding the area, no hostile forces waiting in ambush only silence, and the grim aftermath of unspeakable magic. At the center of the altar, thirty lifeless infants lay in a precise circle, their tiny bodies arranged according to an archaic summoning pattern. Twelve freshly removed human hearts floated above them, still dripping with warm blood, spinning slowly within a cyclone of corrupted mana.
The sages and archmages stood frozen, horror gripping their throats. Even the battle-hardened Fenrath bared his fangs in unease.
Then, the ground shook.
From the middle of the ritual circle, cracks spread across the earth, forming an expanding web of darkness. A slithering sound echoed from the depths below, and from within the portal, a colossal creature began to emerge.
It was unlike anything the council had ever faced an ancient being long thought extinct. A serpentine abomination with thirty serpent heads, each screaming in agony, and a massive body armored with scales black as night. On its chest throbbed twelve massive hearts, each glowing red and protected by rings of bone.
High above, the All-Seeing Eye deity, ever watchful over the world's balance, felt the creature's mana signature. In a flash of divine insight, it summoned aid from the one entity that once defeated this monster during the First War: the Water God's guardian Poseidon's White Serpent Dragon.
With a roar that shook the clouds, the celestial beast descended from the heavens. Radiant with oceanic light, it crashed upon the battlefield and engaged the creature in a brutal confrontation. Water surged violently against corruption. Thunder roared as the White Serpent clashed with the ancient horror.
The Council could do nothing but retreat and shield themselves.
Moments later, silence returned. The abomination lay dead, its heads severed, and its twelve hearts crushed into ash. Steam rose from the battlefield. Victory but one drenched in dread.
Then came Zorzak, the rogue council member who always did as he pleased. Calmly, with an eerie smile, he approached the corpse of the ancient being and drew a small dagger.
"What are you doing?" Fenrath growled.
Zorzak didn't respond. He dipped a vial beneath the creature's heart remains, collecting a sample of its black ichor.
"So this was your goal all along?" Fenrath roared. "You wanted the blood of this thing?!"
Zorzak looked up, unbothered. "Knowledge comes at a cost."
Fenrath lunged, but before his claws met flesh, Zorzak vanished in a blink of purple mist.
"I can smell you wherever you go," Fenrath snarled. "I'll find you."
"Enough," the High Chancellor of the Council ordered. "The creature is gone. Let us be thankful a god intervened."
Fenrath growled but relented. "We got lucky today."
With the battle over, the Council regrouped. All sages and senior mages were summoned. They reviewed the remains of the ritual and its implications. Tension ran high.
"Zorzak has disappeared again, as expected," someone muttered.
The High Chancellor raised his hand. "Increase vigilance in your territories. If something like this ever happens again, report immediately. We can no longer assume peace in the shadows."
The chamber was filled with nods and grim silence.
Meanwhile, Gorion remained silent about the attack on the village, and about Sylveras and Elara. As the council disbanded, he walked away quietly, his destination clear in his mind:
the foot of the mountain—where the young elf and the girl destined to change the world still waited.