Corrupted beginnings.

Ash drifts through the shattered shrine like gray snow. Tululu steps in with spell blades humming, the ward’s power still bright along their edges. The stone altar ahead pulses sickly beneath tangled roots, and the northern valley’s taint hangs in the air.

Above them, the Ash and Gold Dragon wheels low, its shadow cutting across the ruin. Black roots twitch around the altar, then recoil as Tululu’s blade-light presses closer.

The sickly glow flares, and a veil of shadow tries to rise from the root mass. Tululu’s warded blades answer first, steadying the air and pinning the light in place.

The altar cracks with a sound like ice splitting on a winter lake. For a breath, the shrine’s corruption stands exposed, and Tululu has a clear path to strike the source before it can seep deeper into the north.

Tululu lowers both spell blades into the exposed heart and releases a hush of devouring void. The corruption folds inward at once, its sickly glow collapsing into a tight, starless knot.

Black roots jerk free of the altar stone, then wither into ash as the void drinks their blight clean. The shrine’s cracked center stops pulsing and goes still.

A thin breath of cold light leaks up through the ruin, no longer foul, just raw and ancient. The shadow veil snaps apart like torn cloth and is gone.

Above them, the Ash and Gold Dragon beats once through the ash-haze, then settles lower, watchful but calm. The altar’s inner chamber lies open now, cleaned of rot and quietly humming with dormant warding.

The Seer turns toward Tululu, grave relief in their posture as they gesture to the cleared shrine. The northern ruins hold, but the quiet after the cut feels like a door waiting for Tululu’s next command.