The isle of Whirr rose from Dragon Bay like a rotten tooth. Once a prosperous mine of atíum — a light, unbreakable metal — it had become the lair of everything darkest in Terra. The warriors landed at nightfall in a hidden cove.

In the labyrinthine tunnels of the old mines, the atíum crystals glowed faintly blue. Aelith disarmed trap after trap — invisible wires, pressure plates, explosive runes. She missed one.

Grundar stepped on a hidden plate. A rumble echoed. The walls shook. The tunnel began to collapse.

— Run! Silas screamed.

Thordrim turned back and raised his hammer. The earth obeyed. A wall of stone held back the collapse — long enough for the others to flee.

— GO! he roared. I will hold it back!

— THORDRIM, NO! Grundar cried.

But the dwarf was smiling — a sad, resigned smile.

— The mountain calls me, my friends. It is time for me to return to the earth.

The wall gave way. The rocks crashed down upon Thordrim. His last cry echoed — a cry of defiance, of pride, of peace. Then silence.

The six survivors went on. In the Tessarian fortress, on an altar of atíum, lay the blade of Nerecleiss — corrupted, blackened, pulsing with red.

Draven lowered his hood for the first time. His pale face, marked with ritual scars, his eyes burning with fierce determination.

— I was one of them, he said. Ten years ago, I infiltrated the Tessarians on Balrog's orders. When I discovered they were planning to awaken Shabakan, I betrayed them. I killed their leader. I burned their temple. Balrog sent me on this quest to punish me. He knows the Tessarians will kill me if they find me. But I am ready to die if it means stopping Shabakan.

Elyndra stared at him for a long time. Then, slowly, she nodded.

— Very well. But if you betray us, I will kill you myself.

Draven seized the corrupted blade. The pain was terrible. But he held on. They fled through the collapsing tunnels — the Tessarians buried. On the beaches of Whirr, six survivors. Two sacrificed. The sword — reunited at last.