The path within the Shadow Abyss was anything but straight. It was a place where ancient rocks drifted suspended in the air, separated by a bottomless, soul-chilling darkness. Azeal and Vaelora treaded carefully along a narrow ledge where a single misstep meant eternal silence.
"Look over there," Vaelora said, pointing toward another path running parallel to theirs in the distance.
Two silhouettes were visible through the gloom, the emblem of Zareth gleaming faintly on their armor—MalakorandVane. They were on a different track, one that appeared much easier than the rugged ledge Azeal and Vaelora were navigating. Malakor was surging ahead, leaving his brother Vane behind in his wake. There was no conversation between them; it was nothing but a blind, selfish race to the finish.
"That path is shorter," Azeal noted, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt of his sword. "But look closely... that road is leading them astray. It's a deception."
Suddenly, the ground beneath Azeal and Vaelora's feet began to vibrate. "Stone-Lurkers"—creatures with skin as hard as bedrock and eyes that glowed a predatory red in the dark—erupted from the stone. Azeal immediately stepped in front of Vaelora, shielding her with his body. "Vaelora, get behind me!"
"No, Azeal!" Vaelora snapped, drawing her short sword and bracing her shield. "I am no fragile princess to be sheltered and hidden away. Lord Kaelor has trained me in the art of the blade since I was a child. I will fight by your side, shoulder to shoulder."
A Stone-Lurker lunged at her with terrifying speed. Vaelora ducked with practiced agility, letting the monster's momentum carry it over her as she slashed upward, buried her blade into its soft underbelly. Azeal watched her in awe; there was no magic in her strikes—only years of grueling training and the innate swiftness of the Drazhin.
They fought as one. Whenever Azeal blocked a monster with his heavy broadsword, Vaelora would slip underneath his guard to deliver the finishing blow. Their combat was like a lethal dance, a perfect synchrony that required no words. On the other side of the chasm, Malakor and Vane had also encountered monsters, but instead of helping each other, they shoved one another into danger to secure their own escape, their lack of unity making them weak and vulnerable.