The chamber was a tomb of silence, the air thick with an oppressive weight that clung to them like a shroud. Shadows danced across the crumbling stone walls, cast by the faint, eerie glow of the dragon-shaped medallion resting on the pedestal at the heart of the room. The light from the artifact pulsed with a cold, otherworldly energy, sending ripples of unease through the already frigid air.
Edric's eyes narrowed as he studied the medallion, the faint glow reflecting off his tense features. He spoke in a low, steady voice, though there was no hiding the edge of fear beneath it. "This... this is what's causing the disturbance," he muttered, his gaze locked on the artifact. "I'm sure of it."
Marra stepped closer to Kyrntar, her breath shallow, and her hand brushed against his arm, trembling. "It looks... powerful," she whispered, her voice cracking with barely concealed fear. Her wide eyes remained fixed on the medallion as if it were some cursed object that could lash out at any moment. "But this place... I don't like it, Kyrntar. It feels wrong. Like something's waiting."
Kyrntar, ever the stoic leader, stood tall, but even he couldn't ignore the sense of dread gnawing at his resolve. The cold in the chamber wasn't just physical—it gnawed at his mind, his soul. He could feel the weight of ancient, malevolent eyes watching from the shadows. His jaw tightened as he tried to steady his breathing, fighting to suppress the fear rising within him. "Keep your focus," he said quietly, though his voice was strained. "Whatever this is... we face it together."
"I really don't want to be here" murmured Marra.
"Neither do I," Kyrntar replied, his grip tightening on the hilt of his greatsword. "But we have to deal with it. Whatever this thing is, it's been drawing darkness here."
As they neared the pedestal, a voice—low, ancient, and filled with the weight of centuries—rolled through the chamber like distant thunder. It reverberated off the stone walls, sinking deep into their bones, a sound that carried the cold promise of doom.
"Turn back... or be devoured by the wrath of that long forgotten."
The voice faded, leaving the chamber trembling in its wake, as if the very stones recoiled from the ancient power that lingered in the air. From the shadows clinging to the edges of the room, something began to stir. Darkness, thick and impenetrable, swirled like smoke, gathering itself into a form that writhed and twisted as though it struggled to exist within this plane. Slowly, it took shape—a towering, vaguely humanoid figure, its outline blurred and shifting like an ever-moving storm.
The creature's form was shrouded in shadow, tendrils of black mist curling and snapping like the breath of something long dead. Its limbs stretched unnaturally, jagged and thin, as though carved from the very darkness itself. From within the swirling void, two burning red eyes flared to life, cutting through the gloom like embers in the heart of a dying fire. They locked onto the intruders, glowing with an ancient malice, a gaze filled with the weight of centuries and a hunger for destruction.
Edric instinctively took a step back, his hand going to his bow, his voice tight. "Well, that's not something you see every day."
Marra stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat, as if the air itself had turned to ice. The shadow twisted before her, its red eyes burning through the darkness, locking onto her with a gaze that felt like it could strip the soul from her body. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but her legs refused to obey. The chamber seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing in as the towering figure loomed, the very presence of it suffocating.
Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a frantic reminder of her own fragility in the face of something so ancient, so wrong. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came—only a faint gasp as the cold of the shadow seeped into her bones. She could feel her skin prickle, her hands trembling uncontrollably at her sides, her thoughts clouded by the suffocating dread that wrapped around her like a noose.
The darkness seemed alive, pulsating with an ancient hunger, and she knew—deep in her heart—that whatever this thing was, it was beyond anything they were prepared to face. Words were useless. The fear had consumed her, leaving nothing but a hollow, terrified silence.
Kyrntar's lips twitched at the brief exchange between Edric and Marra, but the smile never fully formed. The familiar banter was a fragile moment of warmth in the encroaching cold, a glimmer of normalcy in the face of something far darker than they had ever encountered. He wanted to hold onto it, to let that ease the tension in his chest—but the weight of the situation pressed down on him like a vise. The shadow before them wasn't just another threat. It was something ancient, something wrong. And if he faltered, they would all die.
A flicker of doubt gnawed at him—what if he wasn't strong enough? What if they couldn't overcome this? The thought of falling here, in this cursed place, meant he'd never have the chance to save Icazir. He'd never be able to break the chains of darkness that had taken his brother. Worse yet, his failure would drag Edric and Marra down with him, their lives extinguished before their time. He couldn't let that happen. Not to them. Not with so much at stake.
His pulse quickened, but he forced the fear back down, burying it beneath the armor of his resolve. His grip tightened on his greatsword, the cold steel grounding him in the moment. No matter how terrified he was, he had to keep it hidden—had to be their anchor. For them, and for his brother.
"We don't back down," Kyrntar said, his voice sharper than intended, the sternness masking the tremor of fear that clawed at his gut. His eyes remained locked on the shadow, his heart pounding in his chest. "Edric, hit it from range. Marra, be ready with healing. If this goes wrong, we don't have a second chance."
He could feel the weight of every breath, every heartbeat, as if the shadow itself was tightening its grip on his soul. But he stood tall, unyielding. Because if he fell, they all would.