The ground trembled beneath their feet as the jagged fissure yawned wider beneath the nexus. Matrim could feel it—a surge of something ancient rising from below, raw and untamed. The corrupted ley lines pulsed like arteries clogged with dark energy, sending ripples through the cavern’s air.
Narianna pressed forward, teeth gritted, her blade shimmering with faint golden light as she struggled against the leyline's oppressive pull. Her steps were sluggish, but her eyes never left the lead agent standing near the collapsing nexus.
“They’re opening something,” Matrim said, voice low but urgent as dust and debris rained from the ceiling.
Narianna’s crimson eyes flicked toward the widening fissure. From its depths, faint red sigils pulsed, illuminating unseen structures below—carvings, perhaps ancient halls swallowed by time.
“They’re digging into an older chamber,” she realized aloud. “Something beneath even this nexus.”
The lead agent raised his arms, chanting louder. His fellow cultists joined him, weaving dark sigils midair that anchored into the roots of the nexus. Their magic was feeding the rupture, forcing the leyline currents to tear open the chamber floor.
Narianna lunged, her blade carving through one of the cultists, but it wasn’t enough. More roots surged to protect the fissure.
Matrim’s legs trembled as he pushed forward, the corrupted leyline fighting him with every step. His connection to the leylines now felt like trying to grasp water slipping through his fingers. The power was there—but chaotic, unstable.
One agent broke formation and lunged at Matrim with a surge of shadow magic, claws of condensed darkness aimed at his chest.
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Matrim twisted aside, barely avoiding the strike, then slammed his blade into the agent’s side. The impact flared with residual ley energy, sending the agent reeling into a mass of writhing roots.
“We can’t hold them,” Matrim hissed.
Narianna darted beside him, breathing hard. “If we sever the nexus, the corruption will collapse.”
“But what about what’s beneath it?” he shot back.
The lead agent must have heard them. His smirk deepened. “You see it now, don’t you? The roots we poison are just the gate. What lies beneath this chamber is the truth your council has buried.”
“What’s under there?” Matrim demanded.
The cultist’s voice dropped, reverent. “A forgotten door. Sealed by your ancestors. A wound in the world.”
Matrim felt his stomach sink. “And you’re about to open it.”
The cultist simply gestured, and the chamber shook violently as the fissure widened, revealing the faint outline of carved steps leading down into an ancient abyss.
Narianna’s jaw tightened. “They’re not here to destroy the ley lines.”
“They’re here to get past them,” Matrim finished grimly.
Another surge of dark energy pulsed outward from the nexus. Roots lashed like tendrils, splitting the earth around them as cultists began to retreat toward the breach, vanishing into the shadows of the lower chasm.
“They’re escaping!” Narianna called.
Matrim grabbed her arm. “No—they’re advancing.”
The pair bolted forward, hacking through the last of the protective roots. They skidded to the edge of the fissure, peering into the depths below. The twisted remnants of a forgotten structure lay beneath them, half-consumed by corruption. An ancient ruin, wrapped in leyline roots and shadow magic.
Below, faint silhouettes of the retreating agents disappeared into the gloom.
“We can’t let them reach whatever’s down there,” Narianna said, urgency cutting through the fading strength in her voice.
Matrim gritted his teeth, feeling the fractured leyline pulsing angrily beneath him. The power was still there—but fractured.
“What’s the call?” Matrim asked.
Narianna’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dark. “We follow.”
As they prepared to drop into the depths, Matrim realized they weren’t just fighting for Silvermoon’s ley lines anymore.
They were chasing a threat sealed away long before either of them were born.
