The narrow corridors of the ruins were enveloped in an intense, ancient aura. Elysiel and Seraphis advanced slowly, cautious, aware that they were approaching something crucial. Along the walls, ancient inscriptions and mystical symbols captured the faint light radiating from Elysiel, casting shadows that followed them like silent specters.
Finally, they arrived in a wide, shadowed chamber. In the center, a worn altar rested, and on it, a pedestal adorned with inscriptions in an ancient language. Surrounding the altar, the walls were covered with words that seemed to writhe, forming enigmatic phrases that, even in silence, seemed to whisper in their minds.
— This is the heart of the temple, — murmured Seraphis, his voice echoing in the vastness of the chamber. — The text must be here, but nothing here is simple. If there is something to be found, we will have to face what this place holds.
