The academy's night was eerily silent, the usual hum of activity replaced by an oppressive stillness. Valen stood in the dim glow of Seraphine's study, watching her sift through ancient scrolls and texts piled high on the table. Each one bore the marks of age—faded ink, torn edges, and the unmistakable weight of forgotten knowledge.
"This temple," Seraphine began, her voice steady but tinged with unease, "predates the academy by centuries. It was once a sanctuary for a sect devoted to harnessing the entities' power."
"And now it's a key to stopping them," Valen said, his gaze sharp.
Seraphine nodded. "If the Black Vow succeeds in their plans, they'll unleash something far worse than what we've already faced. The temple holds fragments of ancient power—artifacts and knowledge they can't be allowed to obtain."
"What defenses are we looking at?" Aylara asked, leaning against the doorway with her dagger glinting faintly in the candlelight.
