The moon hung low over the horizon, casting its silver glow on the endless sand dunes of the Sunlit Wastes. The group had fallen into an uneasy silence after Lyra’s words, the weight of her prophecy heavy in the air.
Ariella couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping away from them. The shard—her connection to it—was both a blessing and a curse. She understood now that the journey ahead would test them in ways they couldn’t imagine. But there was no turning back. They had to reach the Temple of Elandor.
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