The Seeker reached a fever pitch, its brass casing glowing white-hot. A heavy stone slab in the center of the plaza began to grind open, revealing a stairwell lined with flickering, ancient monitors.

Kaelen stood on the jagged rim of the Black Basin, the wind whipping his tattered cloak like a dying bird’s wing. Below him, the ruins of Aethelgard—once the "Pearl of the Reach"—were smothered in the grey, suffocating soot known as "The Ash." This wasn't volcanic debris; it was the physical residue of a failed ritual, a leftover from when the High Mages tried to stitch the world back together and only succeeded in fraying the seams.

Kaelen turned to the Witch and smiled a hollow, jagged smile. "Let’s see what version 0.3 looks like."

The Witch raised her shard. "Choose, Kaelen. Do you wake the old world and risk the Ash consuming the rest of us, or do you let the silence finally have its due?"