The sanctum loomed before them, a cavernous cathedral swallowed in shadow and red mist, its architecture twisted by the Crimson Veil's corruption.

Bone pillars curved unnaturally toward the ceiling, their tips merging into jagged veins throbbing with dull crimson light.

Stained glass, once depicting Lysara's radiance, dripped streaks of red, her eyes gouged out by blasphemous vines threading through the stone.

The air was thick, syrupy with magic, every breath heavy, every movement slowed.

Leon stepped through the threshold last, his wind magic stuttering in his chest, his reforged dagger heavy at his belt.

A whisper curled through the mist: "You will fail him too."

The voice wasn't real, but it conjured Boren—his mentor, his friend—clutching his chest, blood leaking between his fingers, eyes wide in betrayal.

Leon froze, his heart pounding.

"Leon," Terya said, her hand firm on his arm, her green eyes grounding him. "It's not real. Look at me." He blinked, Boren's image fading, swallowed by the Veil's illusions.

He gave her a tight nod, his voice shaky. "Thanks."

Zara grunted, stumbling against a pillar, her silver hair plastered to her sweat-soaked forehead, her curse marks flaring molten red along her leg and lower back.

She hissed, teeth clenched.

Leon rushed to her side, kneeling without hesitation. "Zara, stay still. Let me help."

She gave a begrudging nod, her blue eyes squeezed shut.

Leon brushed aside her leather armor, his fingers trembling as they touched her feverish, curse-touched skin.

A jolt ran through him, like touching embers, but he focused, his golden healing magic flickering, then steadying.

Zara's body relaxed, her breathing slowing, her eyes opening to meet his—not guarded, but softened.

"You're getting better at this," she muttered, her voice raspy but warm.

Leon offered a half-smile. "I'm learning on the job."

Her hand settled over his, a fleeting grip, a pulse of shared warmth.

"Don't get used to touching me like that," she said, a faint smirk breaking through.

"Too late," Terya called, her voice teasing, her leather top clinging to her curves. "

He knows exactly how your legs feel now."

"I will bury you in a Veil pit," Zara grumbled, straightening with a grunt, but the tension broke for a moment.

Lysette had collapsed against the bone altar's base, her cracked staff clutched tight, her curse marks dancing up her pale arms like searing brands.

Her emerald eyes fluttered open, pain etched deep, her light magic sputtering like a dying candle.

"It's getting worse," she muttered, her voice hoarse.

"I can barely feel the light."

Leon moved to her, hesitating as he saw the sheen of sweat along her collarbone, her robe slipping from one shoulder.

"I'm not sure I can fix it," he said, kneeling, his golden glow weak in his hand. "But I'll try."

Her eyes locked with his, sharp but fearful. Slowly, she nodded.

His hand brushed her arm, the curse's heat pulsing, but no vision came—only a faint easing of her pain.

Terya stepped closer, eyeing the altar where the Starbloom Crystal glowed, suspended by blood-veined tendrils.

She flicked a wind arc, slicing the air near the altar, and a cloaked figure emerged from the mist—humanoid, insubstantial, like smoke in robes, its face a blur of crimson veins, eyes pits of hungry red.

"Wraith," Zara muttered, lifting her axe, her curse marks flaring but her stance steady.

Leon swallowed, fear creeping back, his wind magic weak.

"We deal with it," Terya said, stepping beside him. "Then we fix her."

"And if we can't?" Leon asked, his voice tight.

Zara smirked, rolling her neck. "Then we die in a really dramatic way."

Lysette's chest rose with shallow breaths, her eyes half-lidded but defiant.

"Hold on a little longer," Leon whispered to her. "We're almost there."

The Veilbound Wraith stirred, the Starbloom Crystal pulsing brighter, the Veil's whispers rising.

"You are too weak, little healer."

Leon stood, meeting the Wraith's gaze, his wind magic flickering but responding.

"Let's see about that," he said, his voice steady, Terya's trust anchoring him.

The Veilbound Wraith drifted forward like a living nightmare, gliding through the red mist with weightless precision, its form a shifting mass of shadow and crimson veins.

The scent of burnt blood and old magic clung to it, seeping into the bones of the Temple of Lysara's sanctum.

The air twisted unnaturally, heat and chill battling in the same breath, the Crimson Veil's whispers pulsing like a heartbeat.

From beneath its tattered, ceremonial cloak, shadowy limbs extended and retracted in unnatural patterns, tendrils of smoke laced with crimson light.

A blood orb hissed into existence—dark, writhing, sickly wet—hovering in its palm before launching toward Leon with a flick of its arm, cutting through the air like a curse.

Leon's breath snagged, fear gripping tighter than any spell. He raised a shaky hand, wind magic tingling at his fingertips, but the orb struck first, grazing his left arm with a sizzling hiss.

Searing pain erupted, throwing him backward. He hit the ground hard, a cry torn from his lips as he clutched the scorched flesh, his vision blurring.

"Leon!" Terya's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

She moved like a storm, her wind arc tearing through the air, slamming into the Wraith's side. Its cloak billowed violently, the specter staggering.

Another orb flew, faster.

Terya rolled beneath it, her leather top splitting further, revealing the curve of her chest, sweat glistening. Her grin was feral as she rose, summoning another arc.

"That's more like it," she whispered, her green eyes blazing.

Zara charged, her cursed leg trembling, pain etched in her grimace, but her axe's grip was iron.

She swung with brutal force, cleaving through the Wraith's midsection.

The spectral flesh parted, the creature screeching, its form distorting as if cut at its soul. Her silver hair whipped, her blue eyes fierce despite the curse marks flaring molten red.

Lysette braced against a broken pillar, her cracked staff high, her emerald eyes bright with focus despite sweat dotting her brow.

Her light magic flickered, weak but precise, a burst of radiance distracting the Wraith, creating an opening. Her small frame trembled, her curse marks pulsing, but she held steady.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.