The morning came quietly, a soft light breaking over the horizon and casting long shadows across the canyon. The air was crisp, the promise of another long journey hanging in the stillness. Arlen stood at the edge of the camp, his back to the others as they packed their gear. The fire from the night before had burned low to embers, the warmth now a fading memory.
He had barely slept, the weight of their conversation still pressing heavily on him. Lira's words had lingered like smoke, stubborn and thick, even though he had tried to bury them. You didn't fail them. He wanted to believe her, but the doubt still gnawed at him. He could feel the pressure in his chest, like a hand squeezing his heart. It had always been there—the weight of his choices, the knowledge that he had been unable to protect those he cared about.
But as he turned away from the camp, wiping his hands across his face to shake off the remnants of exhaustion, he knew one thing with undeniable clarity: he couldn't afford to fall back into the past. Not now. The ruins waited. The artifact they had uncovered in the depths of the old city—the cursed relic that had caused more pain than they could yet comprehend—it called to him. He had to find a way to stop it before it destroyed everything.
"Arlen," Lira's voice broke through the fog in his mind, pulling him back to the present. She stood at the mouth of the cave they had been using as shelter, her armor glinting in the early light. Her eyes were intense, a quiet urgency in them that matched the tension in the air. "We're ready to move out. The ruins aren't far from here."
He nodded, his throat tight. There was no turning back now.
The group moved in silence, their footsteps light on the dusty ground as they made their way toward the ruins. The closer they got, the heavier the air seemed to grow. The land here felt wrong, as if the earth itself had been tainted by whatever ancient magic had once been wielded here. Arlen's fingers twitched at his side, the sensation of the book in his pack almost like a pulse against his skin. He had been carrying it everywhere with him, but today, it felt more like a weight, a reminder of everything he still didn't understand.
"I don't like this place," Eryk murmured from behind him, his voice low, careful. "It's too quiet."
Arlen's gaze swept over the jagged cliffs and crumbling stonework that lay ahead. The ancient ruins of Akthal. They had been abandoned for centuries, but the power within them had never truly faded. It was said that the great city of Akthal had been a thriving center of magic, a place where the greatest mages and scholars of the age had come to study. But something had gone horribly wrong. No one knew for certain what had caused the fall of Akthal, but Arlen suspected that the answer lay deep within the heart of its ruins.
They reached the entrance to the city by midday. The gates were long since shattered, the massive stone arches now little more than rubble. Inside, the streets were eerily empty, save for the occasional broken statue or toppled pillar. Arlen's heart pounded in his chest, the pulse of something darker stirring in the air. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but he could feel it—like a breath on the back of his neck, like something was watching them.
"Stay alert," he said quietly, motioning for the group to spread out.
They moved cautiously through the ruins, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust that covered everything. The deeper they went, the more the silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Arlen's mind kept drifting back to the artifact—the relic they had uncovered in the ruins of Veldros, the one that had caused so much pain. He didn't know why he had taken it, why he had brought it with him. Part of him had thought he could control it, use it to understand what was happening, to stop the spreading corruption that was poisoning the land. But now, it felt like a ticking bomb, and every step forward brought them closer to its inevitable explosion.
"Are you sure this is where we need to be?" Lira's voice cut through the silence. She had appeared beside him, her face drawn tight with concern.
Arlen hesitated, looking around at the dilapidated buildings. "Yes. The relic... it calls to me. This is where it all began."
They reached a large stone structure at the center of the city, its walls covered in ancient runes. The door, though cracked and weathered by time, still held firm. It was here, Arlen knew, that the heart of Akthal's downfall had occurred. Whatever dark magic had been unleashed here was still buried beneath the surface, festering in the ruins. The question was, what had triggered it?
He stepped forward, placing a hand on the door. His fingers tingled as they brushed against the cold stone, a faint pulse of energy humming beneath his skin. The presence, the dark force that had been with him since Veldros, stirred once more, its whispers louder, more insistent.
"Arlen," Eryk said, stepping closer, his tone filled with urgency. "Are you sure about this? We don't know what's behind that door."
Arlen didn't answer. His fingers dug into the stone as if he were pulling strength from it. Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a darkened chamber beyond. The air smelled ancient, stale with the weight of years forgotten. But there was something else, too—something familiar. The presence.
"Stay close," Arlen whispered, his voice strained.
They entered the chamber, and the temperature seemed to drop. The walls were lined with more of the strange runes, glowing faintly in the dim light. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, upon which rested a dark, crystalline object—a shard of something broken, pulsing with a terrible energy.
Arlen's heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was what he had been searching for. The artifact.
But as he stepped forward, a feeling of dread washed over him. The presence inside him stirred violently, thrumming like a living thing. It called to the shard, and the shard called back.
"Don't touch it," Lira said urgently, her hand reaching for his arm. "We don't know what that thing can do."
Arlen paused, his hand hovering just inches from the shard. He could feel its power calling to him, tugging at the very core of his being. But as he stood there, something else dawned on him—the shard wasn't just a relic. It was a key.
To what?
Before he could make another move, the ground beneath them trembled, and a low rumble filled the chamber. The walls cracked, and a deep, guttural sound echoed through the stone. Something had been disturbed, something ancient and angry, and now, it was waking.
Arlen turned to look at his companions, his face pale. "We need to leave. Now."
But it was already too late.
The darkness had found them.