Navaleon celebrated its annual Day of Light, a festival founded to mark the end of the war. Lanterns danced across the sky. Children in rune-lit cloaks mimicked Sharath, pointing wooden staffs and yelling "Peace through Power!"
But below the cobbled streets, tunnels snaked like veins. The Fallen Flame, now numbering in the hundreds, moved in silence.
Their goal: breach the Vault of Thunder, where Ashvara and her sibling weapons slept.
Back in the palace, Sharath watched fireworks with Elina, her hand in his.
She smiled, but her eyes did not. "You've given them light," she said. "Now let's give them hope."
At that very moment, a Vault Sentinel went dark.
In the distance, no thunder rolled.
But something worse stirred:
A stolen whisper. A broken seal. A second dawn.