The air in Elvain was heavy, as if the city itself had been holding its breath. Rynze and Seris stepped out of the Archive, the Nameless Flame flickering faintly in Rynze's grasp. The streets were familiar, yet wrong—buildings seemed to lean unnaturally, shadows stretched too long, and the sky above was tinged with an unsettling hue.
"Is it just me, or does everything feel... off?" Seris asked, her frozen-sky eyes scanning their surroundings.
Rynze nodded, his storm-grey eyes narrowing. "The Keeper's Gambit," he said. "It's left its mark."
As they walked, the distortions became more apparent. The cobblestone streets seemed to ripple like water, and whispers filled the air, voices speaking in a language neither could understand.
At the heart of the city, they found Srakar waiting. His presence was as enigmatic as ever, his dark cloak billowing in the unnatural wind.
"You've returned," Srakar said, his voice carrying a weight that made the air seem heavier. "But the flame has changed you."
"What do you mean?" Rynze demanded, his grip tightening on the Nameless Flame.
Srakar's gaze was unreadable, his motives unclear. "The flame is not just a tool; it's a force. It bends reality, reshapes it to fit its will. And you... you are its vessel."
Seris stepped forward, her frozen-sky eyes blazing with determination. "We chose our path," she said. "We won't let the flame control us."
Srakar's lips curved into a faint smile, one that held no warmth. "Then you must be prepared to face the consequences."
The ground beneath them trembled, and the distortions in the city seemed to intensify. The whispers grew louder, and the air became thick with tension.
Rynze and Seris exchanged a glance, their resolve unshaken. Together, they stepped forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.