The aftermath of the battle with Vermalis was a blur of exhaustion and triumph. Luke and his team stood amidst the wreckage, the serpent's massive body coiled in its final throes of defeat. The spoils of victory had been gathered: scales that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, venom vials potent enough to command a fortune, and an ancient amulet unearthed from the lair's depths—a trinket that pulsed faintly with the same strange energy Luke had felt during the fight.
"This amulet…" Luke murmured, turning the artifact over in his hands. Its surface was etched with runes that glowed faintly in the fading light of day. A chill ran through him, not of cold but of recognition. The stele within him stirred, faintly humming as though acknowledging the artifact's significance.
"What is it?" asked Ser Gareth, the burly knight who had fought beside Luke. He leaned closer, his curiosity piqued by the amulet's eerie glow.
