The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Standing before the altar, the memories of my death, the first attempt of entering the atlar—of the decay spreading through my arm and seizing the last of my strength—still clung to my mind like a dark haze.
Yet, here I was, once again, at the altar. My body felt whole again, and the searing agony was gone, but the weight of what had happened lingered.
It was as if time had reset itself.
The towering structure pulsed ominously, its runes glowing in a deep, almost hypnotic rhythm.
The energy radiating from the altar was palpable, thick in the air like a suffocating fog. I could feel it resonating with something ancient, something dangerous.
My instincts screamed at me to keep my distance, but this was where the path led. Where it always led.
