They moved cautiously through the Weaving Mists. Every step was a battle against the environment; the mist shifted color and shape unpredictably, and the ground underfoot was treacherous.

  ?“We need stability,” Sera urged, checking her brass geomantic scanner, which whined uselessly in the dense magical chaos. “The Regulator still holds unstable energy. If we stay in this chaotic air, it could detonate.”

  ?Kiyan, relying on his exhausted Primal Cold senses, felt an invasive, dangerous chill settle over him—a cold that sapped his strength and dulled his instincts, yet wasn't his own power.

  ?“I feel something nearby,” Kiyan murmured, holding up a hand. “A locus of stability—but it’s twisted. It’s drawing the energy of the Mists and using it to anchor something.”

  ?The source of the geomantic disturbance soon became visible: an ancient, ruined stone structure, half-buried in the mossy ground. At its center stood a massive, monolithic stone, carved with long-forgotten, disturbing glyphs. This was the Spirit-Leach Altar.

  ?

  ?The air around the altar felt wrong—not just cold, but entirely devoid of life. Kiyan recognized the runes immediately.

  ?“It’s the Obsidian Legion’s signature. This is an ancient Void Anchor,” Kiyan explained. “The Legion’s sorcerers used altars like this to permanently drain the life force of captured lands, converting it into power for their dark empire. This one isn’t inert; it’s feeding on the chaos of the Mists.”

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  ?Elara’s face paled, looking beyond the altar, deeper into the thick fog. “If it’s feeding, it’s also sending out a pulse—a magical signature. It’s a decades-old beacon, but if the Legion’s vanguard is close enough, they will feel the pull.”

  ?Suddenly, the ground trembled slightly. Not from magic, but from something vast and heavy moving nearby.

  ?“Kiyan, a Legion War-Drake is nearby. I can hear the grinding of its metal treads and feel the weight of its sorcerers. It’s hunting the residual signal from our breach!” Sera’s voice was urgent. “It’s found the Mists!”

  ?“The Void Anchor worked. It drew them in, just as it was designed to do,” Kiyan said grimly. “We’ve run from a siege and landed in a trap. We have seconds before that machine’s sorcerers can pinpoint our exact location.”

  ?“You can’t just blast it, Kiyan,” Elara whispered, urgency lacing her voice. “It's absorbing the Mists' chaotic power. If you overload it, we'll be caught in the backlash.”

  ?Kiyan nodded, his eyes fixed on the monolithic stone. “That’s why I don’t blast. I'll use Cut.”

  ?“Cut? What's Cut?” Elara pressed. “How? You’re exhausted. And what are you trying to sever?”

  ?Kiyan took a deep, steadying breath, channeling his remaining power into focus. “It’s not frigidity, Elara; it’s zero entropy. Absolute stillness. Instead of a broad explosion, I focus the stillness into a surgical point—like a blade of ice cutting a thread. I don't destroy the matrix; I force the connection to cease all flow. I sever the cord that anchors it to the Barrier. A perfect Cut.”

  ?“Sera, find cover and prepare to move. Elara, hold your focuses steady. I have to disconnect this thing, or they'll follow us wherever we run,” Kiyan commanded.

  ?He approached the monolithic Spirit-Leach Altar. He pushed the frigid stillness of his core outward, aiming for absolute nullification. He reached out his hand, preparing for the painful shock of contact, the instant of pure, forced stillness.