The cursed lands stretched like an open wound across Terra. Once a prosperous kingdom. But when Rastacan was transformed into the serpent king, the curse spread like a disease. The fields turned barren. The trees petrified. The sky itself turned red, as if the sun were bleeding. And through these lands walked the undead.

The six warriors crossed this nightmarish landscape for days — moaning petrified trees, rivers of coagulated blood, corpses rising to attack them. Kael slaughtered with a cold rage. Draven turned the undead away. They did not yield.

On the third day, a specter barred their way — the soul of an old bounty hunter who had tried to kill Rastacan a century earlier. He guided them along a safe path and revealed what he had seen.

— I was a renowned hunter. When I found Rastacan… I saw something unexpected. He was weeping. The serpent king was weeping. He begged me to kill him. He said he had been fighting the curse for centuries. That part of his mind was still human. And that he was suffering.

— What did you do? Elyndra asked.

— I hesitated. And in that hesitation, the demon took over. Rastacan killed me. But before I died, I saw his eyes. And in his eyes, I saw the truth.

— What truth? Silas pressed.

The specter turned toward them, its empty eyes glowing briefly with a light of pity.

— Rastacan and Shabakan are now one. But Rastacan still fights. If you kill him, you will kill an innocent man. If you save him, you will free a god of the shadows.

The warriors stopped. No one answered. The specter vanished into the darkness, leaving them alone with their dilemma.

Two days later, in the distance, they saw their destination: Rastacan's palace — a titanic fortress of black stone, its towers like claws against the red sky. And at its center, the massive door of black marble, sealed by fourteen magic seals.

— So this is where it all ends, said Kael.

— Or where it all begins, said Draven darkly.