The group stood frozen, the air thick with tension. The shadowy figure drifted back into the darkness after striking Calen, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the team shaken but alive. Calen grunted, clutching his chest where the shade had struck him, his breathing labored but steady.
"Steel won't work," Lyria muttered, slipping her dagger back into its sheath. "We need magic."
Jax, still pale from the encounter, nodded quickly. "I—I can strengthen the light. It should keep them at bay for now."
"Then do it," Lyria snapped, eyes scanning the shadowy corners of the vast chamber, watching for any sign of movement. The oppressive silence had returned, but she could feel the presence of the shades lingering just beyond the reach of Jax's light orb.
Jax raised his staff, murmuring a few words under his breath. The orb expanded, its glow intensifying until it bathed the entire room in a soft, eerie light. The shadows recoiled, retreating further into the darkness, but Lyria knew it was only temporary. The shades would return.
Nara stepped closer to Calen, her hand glowing faintly with healing magic. "Let me see," she said softly, her voice calm and steady, despite the fear that lingered in her eyes.
Calen grunted but allowed her to touch the wound. The spot where the shade had struck him was bruised, the skin blackened as if burned by frost. Nara's healing magic flowed through her fingertips, the dark bruise fading slightly under her touch, but it didn't disappear completely.
"I can't fully heal it," she said after a moment, her voice troubled. "The shades leave more than just physical damage. Their touch corrupts."
"Great," Calen muttered, flexing his fingers as the pain eased. "Just what we need. A curse on top of everything else."
Lyria turned her attention to Jax, her voice low and urgent. "We need to move. Fast. Those shades are just the beginning, and I don't plan on waiting around to see what else is down here."
Jax nodded, though his face remained tense. "There's more to this place than just the shades. The magic… it's ancient, older than I realized. We're not dealing with simple spirits. These are the remnants of a civilization that had complete mastery over shadow. We need to be careful."
Lyria raised an eyebrow. "Careful? We're past careful, Jax. We're in a damn death trap. Just tell me where we need to go."
Jax hesitated, then pointed toward the far side of the chamber, where another passageway opened into darkness. "That way. The deeper we go, the more powerful the magic. The relic should be at the heart of the catacombs."
Lyria took a deep breath and started toward the tunnel, her senses alert. The others followed, their footsteps echoing in the vast, empty hall. The further they moved from the light of Jax's orb, the colder the air became, as though the very stone was leeching the warmth from their bodies.
As they ventured deeper, the oppressive atmosphere thickened. The walls of the tunnel were lined with more carvings, similar to the ones they had seen earlier, but these were different. The figures here were not just twisted; they were distorted, their bodies merging with the shadows around them, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain.
Nara stopped, her eyes fixed on one particular carving—a woman with her arms raised in a gesture of supplication, her body half-consumed by darkness. "This was a ritual," she said quietly. "They didn't just control shadows. They became them."
Jax knelt beside the carving, his hand brushing over the ancient stone. "She's right. This is an incantation—a transformation spell. The rulers of this civilization used shadow magic to prolong their lives, merging their souls with the darkness. But something went wrong."
"Clearly," Calen muttered, his hand still resting on his sword hilt.
Lyria felt a chill crawl up her spine. The deeper they went, the more she realized they were venturing into the unknown. It wasn't just the shades or the traps that worried her anymore—it was the magic itself. It was ancient, primal, and it didn't belong in the hands of the living.
"Keep moving," she ordered, her voice tight with tension.
The group pressed on, their steps quickening as the tunnel narrowed and twisted. The carvings became more erratic, the runes more chaotic, as if the ancient people had been driven mad in their final days. There were more depictions of figures consumed by shadows, their bodies twisted and broken.
Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into a small chamber, and the oppressive weight of the shadows seemed to lift, if only slightly. In the center of the room stood a stone altar, its surface covered in dust and cobwebs. Resting atop it was a small, intricately carved box made of black stone. It was no larger than a man's fist, but the air around it shimmered with faint, dark energy.
Jax's eyes widened as he approached the altar. "This… this is a conduit. It's tied directly to the heart of the catacombs."
"Is that the relic?" Lyria asked, her hand instinctively moving toward her dagger.
Jax shook his head. "No. But it's connected to it. The relic must be further in, but this…" He reached out to touch the box, then stopped, his hand hovering just above the surface. "It's a focus for the shadow magic. If we disturb it, the entire catacomb system could react."
"So don't touch it," Lyria said sharply, pulling Jax back. "We're not here to trigger ancient magic traps. We find the relic, we get out."
But as she spoke, a faint whisper filled the air, the same eerie sound they had heard earlier, echoing from the shadows. It was louder this time, closer, and growing stronger. The group tensed, their eyes darting around the room.
The shadows on the walls began to shift, swirling unnaturally, as if something was moving within them. Lyria's heart raced. Whatever was coming, it was more than just shades.
"They're coming back," Calen growled, drawing his sword. "We need to move, now."
Jax stood frozen for a moment, his eyes locked on the shadowy box. "We need this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lyria didn't have time to argue. The whispering grew louder, the shadows coalescing into dark, indistinct forms at the edge of the room. "Jax, leave it!" she ordered, grabbing his arm.
But it was too late.
The moment Jax's fingers brushed the box, the shadows exploded into motion. The whispering rose into a deafening chorus, and the room was plunged into complete darkness. Lyria's vision blurred, and the weight of the shadows crushed down on them from every side.
The catacombs had come alive.
The echoes of the dead were no longer just whispers. They were screams, filling the air with a cacophony of terror and rage.
And in that moment, Lyria knew they had triggered something far worse than just a curse.
"Run!" she shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of the shadows as they closed in.