The inn was a contradiction—a slummy refuge that somehow felt like a sanctuary in the heart of Mordo's unforgiving slums. The wooden walls were warped and stained, the scent of stale ale and smoke hung thick in the air, but there was a warmth to it all, a rough kind of hospitality that promised a night's rest without the expectation of anything more.
I settled into the rough-hewn bed in my small room, the thin mattress creaking under my weight. The room was dimly lit by a single flickering lantern that cast long shadows across the cracked walls. I stared at the ceiling, trying to let the day's events slip away from my mind, but one image kept forcing its way back: Rain.
Her green eyes, glowing with a mix of mischief and something deeper, something almost haunting. The way she had whispered in my ear, her breath warm against my skin, sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. I clenched my jaw, trying to push her out of my mind, but it was as if her face had been burned into my thoughts, a phantom I couldn't shake.
"What dark curse has she put on me?" I wondered, the question echoing in the quiet room. I didn't know if it was some spell or just the remnants of whatever twisted connection we had forged in that alley. Either way, it unsettled me in a way few things had. I turned over, burying my face in the pillow, trying to escape the relentless replay of her eyes, her voice.
Eventually, sleep claimed me, dragging me down into a realm beyond the physical—a place where reality twisted and the boundaries of existence blurred.
I found myself standing on a vast, endless plain, the ground beneath my feet a shimmering reflection of the cosmos. Stars and galaxies swirled in the dark, liquid surface, as if I were standing on the very fabric of the universe. The air was thick with an ethereal energy, pulsating with life and power, yet it was silent—eerily so.
I knew this place. The Ethereal Plains, where the barriers between the physical and the mystical are thin, where souls can meet and converse outside the constraints of time and space. A place both real and unreal, where thoughts could manifest and emotions could take shape.
"Leon…" The voice was a deep, resonant echo that vibrated through my bones, a voice I knew all too well. Archeus.
Turning, I saw the massive form of the Blackened Star Dragon, his dark scales reflecting the cosmos like a living mirror. Archeus's eyes, swirling galaxies in themselves, fixed on me with an intensity that could pierce through any deception.
"Archeus," I greeted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
The dragon regarded me, his vast wings folded, the chains that bound him in the physical realm absent here. "You seem troubled, boy," Archeus observed, his tone devoid of mockery, but carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "Is it the girl? Or something else?"
I hesitated, unsure how much of myself I wanted to reveal, even here. "She's…distracting," I admitted, the understatement clear in my voice. "But there's more. I feel…changed. I'm not the same as I was before ZoZo. I'm colder, darker. It's like something inside me has shifted, and I'm not sure if it's for the better."
Archeus let out a rumbling chuckle, a sound that was both unsettling and oddly comforting. "Human emotions," the dragon mused, his voice laced with both amusement and disdain. "Such fleeting, fragile things. You cling to them as if they define you, yet they are but whispers in the storm of your existence."
I frowned, my fists clenching. "You think they're meaningless?"
"Not meaningless," Archeus corrected, his tone softening slightly. "But trivial, in the grand scheme. You are bound to something far greater than mere human emotions, Leon. Your power comes from chaos, from destruction. Orphease's mark is on you, and that mark will not fade simply because you wish it."
My heart tightened at the mention of Orphease. The God of Destruction, whose dark influence had shaped so much of my life, was a shadow that I could never fully escape. "I know," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I still want to hold on to some part of who I was. I don't want to become…something else entirely."
Archeus's gaze bore into me, unyielding and fierce. "Then tread carefully, boy. Power changes all who wield it, especially power like yours. You are not a god, Leon, not yet. But you are more than human, and that in-between is a dangerous place to dwell. If you are not careful, you will be consumed by the very power you seek to control."
I nodded slowly, the truth of Archeus's words sinking in. I was walking a thin line, one that could lead to unimaginable strength or complete obliteration of my soul. "I'll remember that," I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at me.
"Good," Archeus rumbled. "For I will not always be there to guide you. Our bond is strong, but Orphease's grip is stronger. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment, Leon. They can be your greatest strength or your undoing."
I took a deep breath, the weight of Archeus's words settling over me like a shroud. I knew the dragon was right. I had to be careful, had to keep my emotions in check, even as I navigated the darkness within me.
"Now wake up," Archeus commanded, his voice echoing like a thunderclap across the Ethereal Plains. "There is still much to do."
With a jolt, my eyes snapped open, the dim light of my room in Dingo's Inn slowly coming into focus. My body was covered in sweat, my heart pounding with the remnants of the dream. I lay there for a moment, trying to steady my breathing, trying to hold on to the fragments of the conversation I had just had.
The morning sun barely filtered through the grime-streaked windows of Dingo's Inn, casting a weak, dusty light across the rough wooden floors. I stirred in my bed, the weight of the previous night's dream with Archeus still clinging to me. My body ached, not from battle wounds, but from the lingering tension of that otherworldly conversation. There was no time to dwell on it, though—today, we had work to do.
I dressed quickly, fastening the ruby ring onto my finger, feeling the familiar pulse of its power—a constant reminder of the pact I'd made and the curse I carried. The ring hummed with a life of its own, a dark energy that had become as much a part of me as my own heartbeat. With a deep breath, I strapped the curved hook dagger to my belt and stepped out of the room.
Downstairs, the inn was quiet, save for the faint smell of strong coffee and something frying in the kitchen. Opol and Zig were already at a table, their expressions as grim as the day ahead. I joined them without a word, the weight of our mission pressing down on all of us.
Dingo appeared from behind the bar, his blue-skinned frame moving with a surprising amount of energy for someone so old and frail. His sharp eyes caught mine, and he flashed a crooked grin. Rylin, the small elf boy, followed close behind, his wide eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Well, you three look like you've been through hell," Dingo said, his voice carrying that dry humor he seemed to favor. "But no matter, I've got something to show you." He motioned for us to follow him, leading us through a door at the back of the inn. The door creaked open to reveal a narrow staircase descending into a dimly lit room below.
The room was small, with a single lantern hanging from the low ceiling, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. A large, battered table sat in the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. We took our seats as Dingo and Rylin positioned themselves at the head of the table.
"Let's get down to business," Dingo began, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "I've been in this city long enough to know the places most fear to tread. The place you're looking for? It's one of those places."
Opol leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Tell us what you know, Dingo. We're not here to waste time."
"The heart of Mordor," Dingo started, his grin fading as he spoke. "There's an ancient temple there. People come from all over to pray to their gods. It's old, older than most of the city, and it's said to be a place of great power. But the real danger isn't in the temple itself—it's what lies beneath it."
Zig shifted in his seat, interested despite his usual nonchalance. "Beneath it?"
Dingo nodded, lowering his voice. "Beneath the temple, there are passages—tunnels that twist and turn deep underground. Few know of them, and even fewer survive what lurks within. Your priestess, Deaira, is being held in one of those chambers."
Rylin, silent until now, spoke up, his voice trembling. "I've been down there. They took me when I was just a child. It's dark, cold… a maze. You can get lost so easily, and there are things in the shadows…"
I turned my gaze to the boy, something in his tone gnawing at me. "Who took you? Why were you captured in the first place?"
Rylin's eyes widened, and he glanced at Dingo, who nodded for him to continue. "I-I don't know why they took me," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I remember what they looked like… or at least, what they wore."
"What did they wear?" I pressed, my voice steady, but the tension in the air was palpable.
"They wore black cloaks," Rylin said, his voice trembling slightly. "Black cloaks with gold trimmings and a goat skull emblem on the back. But their faces… I couldn't see their faces. It was like their faces were just black smoke, like they weren't human at all."
The description sent a chill down my spine. I could feel the ruby ring hum with a faint recognition, as if it too was aware of something dark and ancient lurking in those details.
Opol broke the silence, his voice steady. "We'll need to be careful. If the place is as dangerous as you say, we can't afford mistakes."
"No," Dingo agreed, his eyes narrowing. "You can't. The forces down there are old, and they don't take kindly to trespassers. But if anyone can do it, it's you three."
Rylin's wide eyes found mine, filled with fear and hope. "Please, bring her back," he whispered, his voice trembling. "She's been down there too long."
I met his gaze, my expression unreadable. "We will," I promised, more to myself than to the boy.
Dingo pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the stone floor. "You've got a dangerous road ahead," he said. "But if you're ready, I'll show you the way."
The sun was just beginning to set as we approached the Temple of Eris. Dingo led us through the labyrinthine streets of Mordor, the oppressive heat of the twin suns finally giving way to the coolness of evening. The temple loomed before us, a massive structure of dark, weathered stone that seemed to absorb what little light remained. The air around it buzzed with a palpable energy, thick with the weight of ancient rituals and forgotten gods.
"This is it," Dingo said, his voice low and reverent. He gestured toward the towering spires that rose like jagged teeth from the temple's roof. "The Temple of Eris. It's a place of power, a nexus where the old gods still hold sway. But be warned, the power here is not to be trifled with."
Opol and Zig exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions mirroring the apprehension that gnawed at my gut. There was something about this place, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Are you coming in with us?" I asked, more out of obligation than curiosity. I already knew the answer.
Dingo shook his head, his sharp eyes narrowing. "I've led you this far, but no further. What you'll find inside… it's beyond me. The temple is ancient, and the forces within it are older still. You're on your own from here."
Without another word, Dingo turned and melted back into the shadows of the city, leaving us alone before the temple's towering entrance. The heavy stone doors, carved with intricate depictions of gods and beasts, stood half-open, as if inviting us into the darkness beyond.
We stepped inside, and the cool air of the temple was a stark contrast to the blistering heat outside. The interior was vast, the ceiling so high it seemed to disappear into the gloom above. Massive columns, etched with ancient runes, rose from the floor like the trunks of some long-dead forest. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the flickering light of countless candles cast long, shifting shadows across the stone floor.
"This place is… something else," Zig muttered, his usual bravado tempered by the eerie stillness that filled the temple.
"Not what I expected," I replied, scanning the hall for any sign of the hidden passage Rylin had described. Despite the grandeur of the temple, there was a coldness to it, an emptiness that made the space feel more like a tomb than a place of worship.
We moved cautiously through the temple, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The main hall was deserted, save for the statues of gods and goddesses that lined the walls, their stone eyes seeming to follow our every move. Despite our thorough search, we found no sign of the hidden entrance.
After what felt like hours, we regrouped in a small alcove at the back of the temple. The frustration was clear in Opol's voice as he spoke. "There should be something here. Dingo was certain, and Rylin's story… it doesn't make sense."
Zig shook his head, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Maybe the kid was wrong, or maybe there's some kind of trick we're missing. Either way, we're not going to find it standing around here."
"We wait," I said, my voice cutting through the tension. "We'll stay until nightfall. Something tells me this place isn't as dormant as it seems."
The hours dragged by as we waited in the oppressive silence of the temple. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper, as the last of the daylight faded. The temple, once a place of silent reverence, now felt like a living thing, watching, waiting.
Finally, as the last flicker of light disappeared, everything changed.
The walls seemed to shift, the very air around us humming with energy. What had been solid stone now revealed a passage, the darkness beyond it alive with an otherworldly glow. The ruby ring on my finger pulsed in response, its dark energy resonating with the ancient power that filled the temple.
"There," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "That's the entrance."
We approached the passage cautiously, the darkness beyond it seeming to pulse with life. I could feel the weight of the temple's ancient power pressing down on me, the air thick with anticipation.
Opol and Zig exchanged a final glance, their faces a mixture of resolve and dread. Whatever lay beyond that passage, it was waiting for us.
And there was no turning back now.