The air in the Astral Verge was heavy with smoke and magic. High above the battle, clouds of dark shadows twisted around flashes of bright gold light. Sylvia stood on an ancient stone ledge, her breathing fast and rough. Her armor was scratched, and her golden robes were torn at the edges, but her hands burned with bright, pure sunlight.

Below her, two armies fought violently. The soldiers of the Solar Enclave held glowing light spears, while the warriors of the Shadow Realm moved through dark mists with quiet, dangerous speed. Sylvia was a high strategist for the Sun, but today, strategy meant nothing. This war had dragged on for...