The corridor opened into a larger chamber where Master Cedric waited, candlelight flickering over his lined face. He stood before a table strewn with maps and scrolls, arms crossed over his robes. At his side, Princess Althea, Sir Alaric, Lady Aurelia of Stonebridge, and representatives of the allied realms formed a semicircle. When Roland, Talia, Lira, and Bren entered, Cedric inclining his head, the council leaned forward with tense expectation.
Roland stepped forward, voice steady despite the tension. "We have retrieved the Codex of Shadows." He handed Talia's pack to Lady Aurelia, who gently lifted the midnight‐silk tome and placed it on the table. The room's lanterns seemed to dim as all eyes fell upon it.
Cedric gestured for silence. "This codex contains dark rituals—ways to cloak armies in shadow, to corrupt minds, and to shatter the strongest wards. But it also reveals the Dark Lord's own weaknesses, the ancient bindings that once held him at bay." He opened the book to the first marked page. Roland could feel the energy thrumming beneath the parchment. Words in obsidian ink shifted like living things, and alongside them, Cedric's annotations glowed with protective runes.
Althea reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of the page. "What must we do?"
Cedric's eyes flicked to Roland. "We must translate and enact the Counter‐Shadow Rites. But each ritual demands sacrifice—of energy, of will, even of blood. Are we prepared to pay that price?"
A heavy silence settled. Knights shifted in their seats; merchants and lords exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, Sir Alaric spoke: "If it ends the Dark Lord's reign, we must."
Lady Aurelia nodded. "Our people have suffered too long under his terror."
Roland swallowed. "Then let us begin."
Cedric closed the codex and opened a scroll of pale vellum. "The first rite is the Binding of the Black Wind. We must gather four artifacts: the Crystal of True Sight, the Blade of Dawn, the Tear of the First Saint, and the Heartstone of Ardenia." He traced each name on the map with a trembling finger. "These artifacts are scattered across the realm—only together can they fuel the ritual that will imprison the Dark Lord's shadow essence within this codex forever."
Talia stepped forward. "I know where the Crystal of True Sight rests—beneath the ruins of Silverkeep, now occupied by bandit warlords."
Lira added, "The Blade of Dawn is kept in the Shrine of Sunfire, guarded by fanatical priests."
Bren nodded. "The Tear of the First Saint lies in the flooded catacombs beneath Westmarch."
Roland spoke last. "The Heartstone of Ardenia remains in the wyrm's horde at Blackspire Peak—if the legends hold true." He met each ally's gaze. "We must split into teams—retrieve these artifacts before the Dark Lord's forces converge on Fenwood."
Althea's eyes shone with determination. "Then let us go to Silverkeep at once."
Sir Alaric drew his sword. "Roland, lead the team for the Crystal. Talia, Lira, Bren—accompany him. I will dispatch additional forces to secure Westmarch and Sunfire. Lady Aurelia will send envoys to Blackspire. We ride on the dawn wind."
At the break of day, Roland's group assembled: Talia in her rune-etched cloak, Lira with staff aloft, and Bren leaning on his reinforced crutch. Sir Alaric clasped Roland's shoulder. "Your leadership has carried us this far. I trust you to see us through."
Roland bowed. "For Ardenia."
They rode out beneath banners of hope, the codex secured beneath Princess Althea's escort. Fenwood's walls faded behind them as they plunged into the wilderness, each heartbeat echoing the weight of the quest ahead.
Silverkeep lay a two-day ride to the north, its blackened towers piercing storm-laden skies. The road wound through misty valleys where shadows pooled. By dusk of the first day, they reached a ruined gatehouse manned by armored bandits—rough men with dead eyes. Roland signaled a parley: Talia's crossbow aimed, Lira's staff glowing faintly, Bren's crutch ready.
Roland called out: "We come for the Crystal of True Sight. Stand down, and no harm will come."
The bandit captain—a scarred veteran named Kor, blade tipped with rust—laughed. "You think an old crystal matters more than coin? Surrender your weapons, or die."
Roland's reply was