The Veiled Gardens were cloaked in stillness as night settled fully over Silvermoon. Silvered leaves trembled faintly in the wind as Matrim and Narianna moved carefully through the grove, their cloaks brushing against the soft grass and moss-covered stones.

  The garden’s heart—the ancient well—stood before them, glowing faintly with leyline energy that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  “Once we’re beneath,” Narianna whispered, “stay close.”

  Matrim nodded, hand resting on the hilt of his borrowed short sword. “After last night? Don’t worry.”

  A quiet tension filled the space between them. They weren’t just sneaking through sacred ground tonight—they were crossing into a place no Guardian had willingly tread in generations.

  Narianna moved to the well’s edge and extended her hand, murmuring an incantation in Elvish. The sigils etched along the well’s rim flickered and shifted, unlocking a concealed descent passage. Slowly, the inner stones of the well receded, revealing a spiraling stairway carved directly into the earth.

  As the leyline pulse grew stronger, Matrim could feel it again—not just beneath his feet, but in his chest, like the city itself was tugging on his soul.

  “I hate this feeling,” he muttered as they began the descent.

  “It will get worse the deeper we go,” Narianna replied.

  They moved downward, each step dimly illuminated by faint leyline veins running along the walls. The stairway curved tighter as the air thickened, carrying with it the smell of ancient soil and something more arcane—like petrichor laced with raw magic.

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  “How far does this go?” Matrim asked quietly.

  “This path predates the Sunwell,” she replied. “No record says where it ends.”

  He grunted. “Comforting.”

  They descended deeper, the city above fading into silence as the spiral tightened around them. The soft hum of ley energy vibrated stronger with every step. And then, they reached it.

  The stairway opened into a cavernous chamber, massive and hidden beneath Silvermoon for centuries. The walls stretched outward in a dome, covered in ancient roots and carved symbols that pulsed faintly with leyline magic. At the chamber’s center sat a leyline nexus—an orb of intertwined roots and stone, glowing with swirling energy at its core.

  Matrim’s breath caught. “This... this is what’s been pulling at us.”

  Narianna nodded, voice hushed. “The nexus.”

  But even from this distance, it was clear the nexus wasn’t whole.

  A sickness spread along the roots—veins of black and crimson corruption that pulsed unnaturally, oozing deeper into the ley currents. The taint clawed through the chamber like oil spilled into water.

  Matrim stepped closer, the pull stronger than ever. His heartbeat raced, syncing with the slow thrum of the nexus. He could hear the whispers faintly now, murmuring at the edges of his mind. They sounded like echoes from a forgotten time.

  “This is worse than you thought,” Matrim said.

  Narianna’s eyes sharpened. “The Court’s already begun.”

  Matrim’s skin prickled. “Can you feel that?”

  Narianna drew her blade slowly. “We’re not alone.”

  From the shadows near the corrupted roots, faint figures emerged—hooded shapes robed in black, their faces obscured by veils stitched with crimson runes.

  Umbral Court agents.

  Each one radiated a dark, oppressive energy that warped the ley currents around them. Their hands pulsed faintly with shadow magic, distorting the space around them.

  Matrim’s grip tightened on his sword. “I guess diplomacy’s off the table.”

  “They’re here to finish what they started,” Narianna said quietly, stepping into a defensive stance.

  As the corrupted nexus pulsed, and the Court’s agents began circling them in the dark, Matrim felt the leyline’s call growing louder inside him.

  And this time, he knew he couldn’t ignore it.