Eira's body crumpled with a thud beside the broken obelisk. Whatever lingering life had been animating her—magic, vengeance, or madness—had finally burnt out.
Luka stood slowly, wiping his blades on a nearby patch of moss that hadn't yet blackened. He stared at the shattered obelisk.
No more pulsing red light. No more hissing.
Just silence.
Serene approached, her armor scratched and her shield arm trembling faintly. "You alright?"
Luka nodded, eyes still locked on the spire's remains. "Yeah. Just… trying to figure out who the hell thought growing a corruption altar in a druidic grove was a good idea."
Serene glanced down at Eira's corpse, her brow furrowed. "She wasn't working alone. This kind of magic needs a source.
She didn't have the power to create something like this on her own."
Luka sighed. "Which means someone higher up fed it to her."
"Probably testing how far the corruption can spread before it gets noticed."
