The chamber trembled.
The light that had filled the Rift was brighter than ever, golden and silver intertwined, pushing back the shadows that had haunted this place for a thousand years. The crystals along the walls, those that had survived the battle, pulsed with a gentle radiance—not the sickly green of corruption that had greeted us when we first descended, but a warm, golden glow that seemed to breathe life into the ancient stone. The ice that had coated the floor had melted, and water pooled in shallow puddles, reflecting the light like a thousand tiny mirrors.
Runa stood beside me, her hand pressed to her chest where the wound had been. The flesh was healed, the bone mended, but I knew she would carry the memory of that moment forever: the darkness wrapping around her, the cold seeping into her bones, and the feeling of her heart stopping as the shadows claimed her.
"I'm fine," she said, seeing my gaze. "Stop worrying."
