The air grew colder as they ventured deeper into the forest, and the shadows seemed to stretch impossibly long, dark tendrils that crawled up from the ground and clung to their feet. Valthar could feel the Abyss more keenly now, like a living thing, constantly gnawing at his thoughts, twisting his emotions. Every step felt like a descent into something far worse than death.
Serra walked beside him, silent but alert, her eyes darting through the trees as though expecting another ambush. The encounter with the Shadowhound had rattled her, though she didn't let it show. The presence of the Abyss, the voice of Valthar's mother from the ravine, had left them both on edge. Valthar could feel her unease, though she kept a strong front.
It wasn't long before the trees thinned out, revealing the ruins of an old temple, its stone walls cracked and crumbling with age. Moss and vines covered much of the structure, but there was something foreboding about the place, as though it had been forgotten by time, but not by the Abyss. Dark energy lingered in the air around it, pulsating with malevolent intent.
"This place…" Serra muttered, her eyes narrowing. "It feels wrong."
Valthar nodded. The Abyss was practically alive here. The whispers in his mind were louder, more insistent, urging him toward the temple. There was something waiting for him inside. He could feel it.
They approached cautiously, stepping through the broken archway into the main chamber. The interior was dimly lit by faint shafts of light breaking through the cracks in the ceiling. Stone statues lined the walls, their faces twisted in expressions of agony or ecstasy—Valthar couldn't tell which. At the far end of the room stood an altar, carved from black stone, its surface etched with strange symbols.
The moment they stepped inside, the temperature dropped several degrees, and an oppressive weight seemed to press down on them. The Abyss was strong here, almost suffocating in its intensity.
Valthar's chest tightened as he felt the energy pull at him, urging him forward. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, though he knew it wouldn't protect him from whatever forces lurked in the shadows.
Serra moved closer to the altar, her brow furrowed as she examined the strange markings. "These symbols… they're old. Older than anything I've ever seen. Abyssal runes, but… different." Her voice was tight with unease. "I don't like this, Valthar. We should leave."
Valthar didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the altar. He could feel something just beyond his reach, something waiting to be awakened. The Abyss surged inside him, pulsing with a life of its own. His head throbbed with the weight of its whispers.
*Join me…*
The voice echoed in his mind again, soft and seductive. It was the same voice he had heard on the bridge—his mother's voice. But there was something twisted about it, something darker. It wasn't truly her. It was the Abyss, using her memory to get inside his head.
"Valthar." Serra's voice was sharp, pulling him from his thoughts. "You're scaring me."
He blinked, realizing that he had taken several steps toward the altar without even realizing it. His body moved almost of its own accord, as though the Abyss was guiding him. He clenched his fists, trying to shake off the influence, but it was like trying to fight against the tide.
"There's something here," he said, his voice low and strained. "Something we need to find."
Serra shook her head. "No, Valthar. This place is wrong. We shouldn't be here. Whatever it is, it's dangerous."
"I know," Valthar replied, his tone grim. "But we don't have a choice."
He stepped closer to the altar, his eyes scanning the runes. They pulsed with dark energy, and as he stared at them, he felt a strange sense of familiarity. He had seen these symbols before—somewhere deep within his memory, buried beneath layers of pain and trauma. It was as though they were calling to him, trying to unlock something hidden inside his mind.
Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble, and a low rumble echoed through the temple. The stone statues lining the walls cracked and crumbled, their faces contorting into grotesque shapes as if they were alive. The air grew thick with the scent of decay, and a cold wind howled through the chamber.
"Valthar!" Serra shouted, drawing her sword as the tremors intensified. "We need to get out of here!"
But Valthar was rooted to the spot, his mind overwhelmed by the surge of dark energy. The Abyss roared inside him, louder than ever before, and he could feel it pulling him toward the altar, pulling him deeper into its embrace.
Then, with a deafening crash, the ground split open in front of the altar, revealing a dark, gaping chasm. From within the chasm, a massive shadowy figure began to emerge, its form shifting and writhing like a living nightmare. It was made of darkness itself, its body an amalgamation of twisted limbs and jagged teeth, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
Serra's eyes widened in horror as the creature pulled itself free from the earth, its massive form towering over them. "What the hell is that?!"
Valthar didn't answer. He couldn't. The Abyss was in full control now, its power surging through his veins like fire. His vision blurred, and his mind was filled with images of pain and destruction—scenes from his past, twisted and distorted by the darkness.
He saw his brother, Kaelion, standing over the bodies of their parents, his eyes cold and unfeeling. He saw the flames that had consumed their home, the screams of the innocent echoing in his ears. And then he saw himself, standing at the edge of a great abyss, staring into the void as it called to him, promising him power, vengeance, and salvation.
The creature let out a deafening roar, its voice a cacophony of agony and fury, and lunged toward them. Serra darted to the side, barely avoiding its massive claws, but Valthar stood his ground, his eyes locked on the creature's glowing gaze.
He could feel it—deep inside him, a connection to the Abyss, to the darkness that had created this monster. It was part of him, just as he was part of it. The creature was a manifestation of the Abyss's will, a living embodiment of the chaos and destruction that lay at its heart.
But Valthar wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
He reached out with his mind, letting the Abyss flood his senses, letting its power fill him completely. The darkness surged through him, and for a moment, he felt as though he were no longer human, but something else—something greater.
With a roar of his own, Valthar unleashed the full force of the Abyss. Dark tendrils shot from his body, wrapping around the creature's limbs and pulling it toward him. The monster thrashed and howled, but Valthar's power was greater. The Abyss fueled his strength, gave him control over the darkness, and he used it to tear the creature apart.
The beast's form disintegrated into a mass of shadow, and with a final, ear-splitting wail, it collapsed into the chasm below, vanishing into the void from which it had come.
The temple fell silent, the air thick with the lingering presence of the Abyss. Valthar stood at the edge of the chasm, his body trembling from the exertion, his mind reeling from the experience. The Abyss had given him power—more power than he had ever imagined—but it had also taken something from him. He could feel it, deep in his soul. A piece of him was gone, consumed by the darkness.
Serra approached cautiously, her sword still drawn, her eyes filled with worry. "Valthar… are you alright?"
He didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure if he was alright. The power of the Abyss was intoxicating, but it was also terrifying. He had just torn a creature of pure darkness apart with his bare hands, and the rush of it had been… exhilarating.
"I'm fine," he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.
Serra didn't look convinced, but she didn't push the issue. "We need to get out of here. Whatever that thing was, there could be more of them."
Valthar nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the altar. The runes were still glowing faintly, and he could feel the pull of the Abyss stronger than ever. There was something here, something important—something that could lead them to the Key.
Without a word, he stepped forward and placed his hand on the altar.
The moment his skin touched the cold stone, the runes flared to life, and a flood of memories rushed into his mind. He saw glimpses of the past—ancient rituals performed in the name of the Abyss, dark figures cloaked in shadow, and at the center of it all, a figure holding a gleaming object: the Key of Eternum.
Valthar's heart raced as the vision faded, leaving him breathless and shaken. He knew now. He knew where they needed to go.
"We're close," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Key is near."
Serra
looked at him, her expression filled with doubt and fear. "Are you sure about this, Valthar? This power… it's changing you."
Valthar met her gaze, his eyes cold and distant. "I don't have a choice. We need the Key to stop Kaelion. Whatever the cost."
And as they left the temple, the shadows followed, whispering promises of power, betrayal, and the darkness yet to come.