Invited to Fall
Invited to Fall The air in the abandoned watchtower did not merely smell of old dust and crumbling stone; it carried the sharp, ozone tang of raw spatial magic. In the center of the cramped room, a jagged tear in reality hung suspended, its edges burning with volatile silver light. Through the portal, the wind at six thousand feet did not merely blow. It shrieked, a wall of freezing midnight air that howled through the rift, tearing at Elara Nightbreeze’s silver hair and biting through the thick leather of her armor. She stood at the edge of the magical threshold, gloved hands locked around the stone archway that vibrated with the portal's immense energy. Miles below the portal's exit point, Cobblecrest was a scatter of faint, flickering amber lights in a valley of darkness. But Elara’s violet eyes weren’t on the village she’d sworn to protect. They were fixed on the shape cutting through the clouds directly beneath the rift. The Blackthorn Syndicate’s levitating galleon move...