Ariana’s Awakening
Ariana lay on the cold, blood-soaked ground, her body broken and drained, but her mind surged with a force she had never felt before. The Severing Ritual was still on the verge of completion. She could feel its dark tendrils wrapping around the very essence of the world, choking the life from the earth, sky, and souls of the living. The Dark Lord's lifeless form still pulsed with residual magic, but his death hadn't stopped the ritual. If anything, it had accelerated the process.
She tried to stand, her limbs trembling, but collapsed again under the weight of exhaustion. Every part of her body screamed in pain, her vision swimming as the edges of her consciousness threatened to pull her under. She reached out for her staff, but the wood felt foreign and distant in her fingers, like a forgotten part of herself. Her magic, once a steady current within her veins, had dwindled to a mere flicker, barely enough to keep her conscious.