Marcus's fall felt endless.
The darkness that engulfed him was thick, almost tangible, pressing in from all sides as he tumbled deeper into the unknown. His thoughts spun in disarray, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. One moment, he had been charging toward the altar, and the next, the ground had collapsed beneath him, plunging him into this abyss.
Then, with a sudden jolt, Marcus hit solid ground.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs, but the adrenaline coursing through him numbed the pain. He groaned, trying to push himself up, the cold stone beneath his fingers slick with moisture. It was pitch black around him, the only sound his ragged breathing and the faint, distant rumble of the temple above.
He quickly checked his body—no broken bones, just a few bruises. His sword was still with him, its familiar weight a small comfort in the oppressive darkness. He couldn't tell how far he had fallen, but it had to be deep—he could no longer hear the chaos of the battle raging above.
Clara. Alaric. Malek. His heart clenched at the thought of them. Were they still fighting those creatures? Was Clara safe? He had to get back to them.
Summoning his strength, Marcus stood, his legs shaky but steady enough. He strained his ears, hoping to catch any sound, any clue as to where he was or how to get out. But there was nothing. Just silence.
He had no choice but to move forward, step by cautious step, his sword raised in front of him. The air was damp, filled with the scent of decay and something else—something faint but familiar. It reminded him of the artifact's dark energy. Whatever power had been unleashed above had somehow spread down here as well.
As he walked, the faintest glimmer of light caught his eye—just a flicker, deep in the distance. He hurried toward it, his footsteps echoing in the eerie stillness.
The light grew brighter as he approached, revealing a large chamber at the end of a narrow tunnel. The stone walls here were different, carved with strange symbols and ancient runes that glowed faintly in the dark. It was as if this place had been forgotten for centuries, hidden beneath the temple above.
At the center of the chamber was a massive stone obelisk, cracked and crumbling, its surface etched with more of the glowing runes. It pulsed with the same dark energy that had emanated from the second artifact. As Marcus approached, the air around the obelisk hummed with power, a low, unsettling vibration that made his skin crawl.
He stepped closer, drawn to the obelisk despite the foreboding sense of danger it radiated. There was something about it—something familiar.
And then he realized why.
The runes on the obelisk… they were the same symbols he had seen on the first artifact. The one they had found back in the mountains. The one that had started this whole nightmare.
But what was it doing here, beneath the temple?
Marcus reached out, hesitating for only a moment before his fingers brushed the cold stone surface. The moment he touched it, a shockwave of energy surged through him, nearly knocking him off his feet. His vision blurred, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he was going to pass out.
Then, his mind was flooded with visions.
He saw flashes of the past—images of an ancient kingdom, long before his time. A vast city, bathed in golden light, stood proud and powerful. But there was something wrong. Darkness crept at its edges, growing stronger with each passing moment.
And at the heart of that darkness stood the obelisk, just as it was now. A group of robed figures surrounded it, their hands raised in unison, chanting in a language Marcus couldn't understand. But their intentions were clear—they were summoning something. Something far more powerful and dangerous than they could control.
The vision shifted, and Marcus saw the aftermath—the city in ruins, consumed by the very darkness its people had tried to harness. The obelisk had cracked, just as it was now, and the robed figures lay dead at its base.
The visions faded, and Marcus was thrust back into the present, gasping for air. His heart raced as he staggered back from the obelisk, his mind reeling from what he had just seen.
This wasn't just an ancient relic. It was a prison. A prison for something far older and far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
The artifact wasn't a key to unlocking its power—it was a key to keeping that power sealed away.
The realization hit him like a blow. The second artifact, the one Malek had touched, had been the final lock. And by activating it, they had unknowingly started to undo the seals that had kept this ancient force contained.
He had to stop it. He had to find a way to reseal the obelisk before it was too late.
But as Marcus turned to leave the chamber, a figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and gaunt, with hollow, piercing eyes, the pale man from the temple above stood before him, his expression cold and unyielding.
"You should have stayed out of this," the man said, his voice echoing eerily in the chamber.
Marcus tightened his grip on his sword. "Who are you?"
The man's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I am the one who will see this world reborn. And you… you are just another obstacle in my way."
Before Marcus could react, the pale man raised his hand, and the darkness around him surged forward, coiling like tendrils of smoke. They wrapped around Marcus, binding him in place, their icy touch sapping his strength.
"You should have left well enough alone," the man whispered as he approached, his eyes gleaming with dark intent. "Now, you will witness the beginning of the end."
The darkness tightened its grip, and Marcus struggled to break free, but it was no use. The pale man was too powerful, too in control of whatever ancient magic had been unleashed.
As Marcus's vision began to blur, the last thing he saw was the man reaching for the obelisk, his hand outstretched as if to claim the power within.
Then, everything went black.