Before they could even process the horror before them, Marra's voice slithered through the air—not just from her lips, but from the very walls, echoing in every shadowed corner of the chamber. Worse, it crept into their minds like an invasive fog, coiling around their thoughts with a dark, seductive pull. Her tone, once familiar, now dripped with a twisted allure, mockery lacing every syllable.
"Did you really think you could stop this, Kyrntar?" Marra's voice slithered out, dripping with venomous mockery, her words crawling into their minds like the cold grip of death. "Did you truly believe your pitiful quest could unravel what has been carved into the bones of this world? Look at you," she hissed, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Barely standing, your strength crumbling, and yet you cling to hope like a blind fool, grasping at nothing but shadows. Everything you've done, everything you've fought for—it's already too late. Blood has sealed your fate." Her laughter echoed through the chamber, a hollow sound that seemed to drain the light from the room.
Marra glided forward, the sickly green water beneath her feet rippling softly as if bowing to her presence. Her voice dripped like velvet, smooth and inviting, weaving through the air like a soft caress. "This power… you can feel it, can't you, Kyrntar?" she purred, her words almost tender, luring him deeper into her thrall. "It could be yours. Strength like you've never known. Why resist it? Why resist me? Together, we could be so much more. More than the weak, broken things you cling to… more than the hollow ideals you still pretend to believe in. Strong enough, to bring back Izzy."
Kyrntar's legs wobbled under the weight of Marra's words, the cruel melody of her voice wrapping around him like a suffocating noose. His body felt leaden, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to breathe. Every pulse of the dragon amulet in her hand seemed to resonate with the very walls, filling the chamber with a dark, oppressive weight.
Beside him, Druvon's deep voice cut through the tension, filled with disdain and fury. "You twisted witch," he growled, stepping forward, his towering frame casting a shadow across the dim chamber. "Your power is nothing but a hollow curse—tainted by your own corruption. Whatever you think you've gained, it's only left you rotting from the inside out."
Marra's eyes slid lazily toward Druvon, her smile stretching wider with cruel amusement. She tilted her head slightly, her sickly green gaze flicking over him as though he were nothing more than an insect buzzing in her ear. "Oh, little creature…" she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension. "Do you truly believe you matter? You're nothing to me—nothing. Your strength is a dull whisper in the wind. The only one worth my time here is Kyrntar."
She shifted her gaze back to the paladin, her expression softening into something far more dangerous. "He is the one with the power to stand against me… if only he would stop clinging to the weakness of his convictions."
Kyrntar's breath hitched, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword too tightly. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, but through his frozen despair, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder—Druvon. The warrior's quiet strength grounded him, a silent reminder that he wasn't facing this nightmare alone. His mind screamed to fight, to reject her, but his body betrayed him, frozen, as if every ounce of strength had bled out of him. His pulse quickened, his mouth went dry, and his heart pounded in his chest, the shock of it all leaving him utterly paralyzed.
Her eyes never left Kyrntar almost as if Druvon and Vikra were simply flies in the room. Unworthy of recognition.
As Marra's words slithered through the air, their sinister sweetness wrapping around Kyrntar's mind like a thick, suffocating fog, he felt his resolve faltering. Her voice crept into his thoughts, soft and seductive, pulling at the edges of his willpower. *No… this isn't real,* he told himself, trying to push through the haze clouding his mind. But every word she spoke was like a venomous tendril, weaving deeper, attempting to bind him.
He clenched his fists, a faint sound from Vikra, the brief scrape of her dagger, pulled his attention. Slowly, like the first rays of light piercing a storm, clarity returned. The fog lifted, and with it, a realization dawned—she was casting an enchantment with her words, not just manipulating his mind, but the entire room, ensnaring all of them in her dark spell.
Kyrntar's breath steadied as he drew upon the strength deep within him. He had faced worse than this, and he would not fall now. He raised his hand, the weight of divine energy filling his chest, and his voice, though quiet at first, grew strong. "Not today," he muttered, his tone firm as he spoke the incantation for Protection from Evil and Good.
A brilliant light erupted from his outstretched hand, an aura of radiant power expanding outward, driving back the oppressive shadows that clawed at them. The heavy darkness Marra wielded recoiled as the ward solidified, encasing Kyrntar, Druvon, and Vikra in a shield of divine protection. The enchantment Marra had attempted to lay upon them shattered like brittle glass, and for the first time since entering the chamber, the weight pressing down on them began to ease. Kyrntar stood taller, his mind clear once more.
As the protective light settled over them, pushing back the clinging darkness, Kyrntar's heart pounded in his chest, his breath heavy with the weight of it all. He locked eyes with Marra, his voice trembling but fierce. "Where is Edric?"
Her response came as a sickening chuckle, low and dripping with malice. The twisted grin that spread across her face was enough to freeze the blood in his veins. Without a word, she reached behind her and with a flick of her wrist, sent something crashing to the ground before Kyrntar's feet.
It took him a heartbeat to realize what it was.
Edric. His body charred and lifeless, his skin blackened as if consumed by flames.
Kyrntar's breath caught in his throat, his stomach twisting with horror and sorrow. The air seemed to thicken, suffocating him as the weight of failure slammed into his chest. His legs felt like lead, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. He wanted to move, to fight, to strike her down—but his body wouldn't respond.
Marra stepped forward, her voice a sickly purr. "Oh, poor Edric… he always was so sweet, wasn't he? Always so loyal." Her grin widened, her tone filled with venomous sarcasm. "He loved me, you know. Thought of me as his 'flame.' How poetic, don't you think?" She knelt beside Edric's body, her fingers brushing his scorched cheek. "And yet, here he is—burned alive by the one thing he adored most."
Kyrntar's hands clenched into fists, shaking with rage. His vision blurred, hot with unshed tears as the cruel irony of it all tore at him. Edric, who had loved Marra more than anything, had been consumed by the very darkness she'd embraced. A bitter laugh escaped Marra's lips, her eyes gleaming with twisted joy. "He could have ended me, you know. He had the chance. But loyalty… ah, it's a dangerous thing, isn't it?" She gestured casually to Edric's lifeless form, her voice dripping with mock pity. "And this? This is the reward for his devotion."
Kyrntar's heart shattered under the weight of her words. Anger flared within him, but so did a crushing sense of helplessness. Kyrntar's gaze dropped to Edric's charred body. His stomach twisted with guilt, he could feel his ward slipping as he lost concentration, but then Druvon's calm, steady breathing beside him reminded Kyrntar of the fight still ahead. Failure had no place here, not while there was still something left to save.
Kyrntar stood tall, though his heart felt like it was being torn apart. The protective aura pulsed faintly around them, shielding him from the oppressive darkness, but the weight of Marra's corruption pressed down on his soul. His eyes burned as they flicked from the twisted figure of Marra to Edric's lifeless, charred body at his feet. He could still see the man who had loved her, who had believed in her—and now he was nothing more than a hollow shell, consumed by the very darkness he had tried to save her from.
Kyrntar's breath hitched, his voice catching in his throat as he turned to face Druvon and Vikra, desperation and sorrow mingling in his gaze. "Look at them…" His voice cracked, but he pressed on, unable to hold back the flood of emotion. "Edric… Marra… they were my friends. They were good. And now look at what's left."
He tried to stop the shaking, the trembling evident as he fought to keep his composure. "I know I'm not the leader you need, and I've failed them both… but I can't do this alone. Not this time." His eyes were wide, pleading as he looked to his companions, his voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Help me… help me end this. This evil, this corruption—it's taken everything from them. It's already taken too much from us."
Kyrntar's hands tightened around his sword, his knuckles white as his gaze drifted back to Marra. His jaw clenched as anger rose, a deep fire burning beneath the pain. "I may be broken, I may have failed, but I'm still here. I'm still strong enough to fight. And I swear, by whatever light is left in me, I will not let this darkness take anything more."
The dragon amulet throbbed with dark energy, casting an eerie glow over the chamber. Marra's voice slithered into their minds, a chilling echo that seemed to vibrate through their very bones. "I've waited so long for this moment… Now, watch as your last shred of hope crumbles to dust."