The days following the binding were filled with frantic activity. Eldros' leaders convened in the ancient council chambers to discuss the city's future. Kael, Saerin, and Lioren were invited as honored guests, their roles in saving the city now etched into legend.
But beneath the surface of celebration and hope, the city's ancient tunnels stirred with uneasy restlessness.
Late one evening, while the streets above were bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, Lioren ventured into the catacombs alone. Armed with his knowledge of arcane arts and an enchanted lantern, he sought to unravel the mysteries that had long haunted Eldros.
As he descended into the cool darkness, the air thickened with a palpable energy. Whispered voices, unintelligible yet haunting, brushed past him like the breath of the past.
Suddenly, his lantern flickered violently. A shadow detached itself from the cavern wall — not quite human, not quite beast.
Lioren's heart pounded. This was no remnant of the Harrow. It was something older, something waiting.
From the depths of the shadows, a voice spoke—not aloud, but inside his mind.
"You have bound the Harrow, but the true darkness awakens. Prepare, or Eldros shall fall once more."
Lioren steadied himself, his fingers tightening around the lantern's handle. He had glimpsed the future's first warning.
Above, the city slept unaware of the new threat lurking just beneath their feet.