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A blinding white light erupted from her palms. It wasn't a bolt of fire, but a wave of pure, stubborn life. Where it touched the Lich’s shadow, the darkness dissolved like ink in water. The Lich let out a hollow, metallic shriek before vanishing back into the depths of the forest.

"Protect the girl!" Silas roared, charging forward. But with a casual flick of a withered hand, the Lich sent Silas flying into a cedar tree, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. A blinding white light erupted from her palms

They weren't alone for long. Out of the shadows stepped Willow Ufgood. He looked older than the legends said—tired, his robes frayed at the edges. In his hand, he gripped a carved wooden wand, its tip pulsing with a faint, uncertain amber glow. The Lich let out a hollow, metallic shriek

Beside her, Silas, the loyal squire, gripped his sword. He wasn't a hero of legend, just a man who believed in a promise. "Then we move faster," he countered, though the sweat on his brow told a different story. They weren't alone for long

"Elora! Now!" Willow shouted, his face contorting with the effort of holding back the darkness. "The spark is in you! Use it!"

"He's coming for us," Elora whispered, her voice cracking. "I can feel him in the air."