Arin and Karya traveled in silence through the forest, the weight of the recent battle still lingering in the air. The glove's dark energy had worked, but the consequences of using it haunted Arin. Every time he looked down at his hand, he could feel the echo of that power—a power he wasn't sure he could control.
Karya walked beside him, her gaze steady, though Arin sensed her unease. She hadn't spoken much since the battle, but he knew what she was thinking. The shadows were getting stronger, evolving with every encounter, and even their victories felt more like temporary reprieves. They couldn't keep relying on desperate gambles. They needed answers—answers that only one being could provide.
Enacra.
"We need to find him," Arin finally said, breaking the silence. "Enacra's the only one who knows what this glove is capable of. Without his guidance, I could end up doing more harm than good."
Karya nodded, her expression hardening with determination. "We've come too far to be led astray now. We find Enacra, and we figure out what our next move is."
They continued their journey through the dense forest, their path winding through thick underbrush and towering trees. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the land, and the light took on a warm, golden hue. It would have been beautiful under different circumstances, but for Arin, every shadow reminded him of the enemy they still had to face.
Just as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, they reached the edge of the forest, stepping into an open clearing that sloped gently downward. Below them lay the ancient city of Arcane, bathed in the fading light of dusk. Its towering spires and intricate stonework stood in stark contrast to the wilderness around it, and yet it felt as if the city had been part of the landscape for millennia.
"Arcane," Karya whispered, a sense of awe in her voice. "I never thought I'd see it in my lifetime."
Arin had heard stories of Arcane, the legendary city of knowledge, where the greatest scholars, mages, and warriors once gathered to study the arcane arts. But after the fall of Enacra, the city had become a ghost town, its secrets locked away in forgotten vaults. Now, it stood as a relic of a bygone era—an empty shell filled with memories of a lost civilization.
"This is where we'll find him," Arin said. "If anyone knows how to reach Enacra, it'll be in Arcane."
They made their way down the hill and toward the city gates, which were ajar as if inviting them in. The air was thick with the smell of ancient stone and a faint, lingering magic that hummed beneath the surface. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of their footsteps on the cobblestones. Arin couldn't help but feel the weight of the city's history pressing down on him, like invisible eyes were watching their every move.
"Do you think anyone still lives here?" Karya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I doubt it," Arin replied. "But I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't alone."
As they ventured deeper into the heart of the city, they came upon a large, circular plaza. At its center stood a towering statue of a robed figure—Enacra, the guardian of Arcane. His face was stern yet wise, his hand raised in a gesture of protection. But there was something off about the statue, something that unsettled Arin.
Before he could examine it further, a deep voice echoed through the square.
"Enacra is not as benevolent as he once was."
Arin and Karya whirled around, weapons at the ready. From the shadows at the edge of the plaza, a figure emerged—a tall man draped in dark robes, his eyes glowing faintly with arcane energy. His face was obscured by a hood, but his presence was undeniable. Power radiated from him, a cold, distant force that seemed to warp the very air around him.
"Who are you?" Karya demanded, her bow drawn, an arrow notched and ready.
The man chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill down Arin's spine. "You don't recognize me? I suppose it has been centuries since my name was spoken aloud in these halls. I am Arcane, the keeper of this city, and once, a great mage of this realm."
"Arcane?" Arin echoed, the name familiar but shrouded in legend. The city was named after this figure, but little was known about him. "What do you want?"
Arcane stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "What I want is irrelevant. It is you who seek something, is it not? You seek Enacra."
Arin's grip on the glove tightened. "We need his guidance. The shadows are growing stronger, and I—" He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I found this." He lifted the glove, showing it to Arcane.
For a moment, Arcane's glowing eyes flickered with interest. He studied the glove, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. "Ah, the Relic of Elementis. A powerful artifact, though dangerous to those who do not understand its true nature."
"Do you?" Arin asked, his voice steady but tense. "Do you understand it?"
Arcane tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. "I understand more than you know. That relic was crafted in the time before the fall of Enacra. It holds the power of the elements, yes, but it also carries with it the essence of the Abyss—the very force that now fuels the shadows."
Karya lowered her bow slightly, her brow furrowing. "If it's so dangerous, then why would it choose Arin?"
"The relic chooses those who have the potential to wield it," Arcane said, his voice like silk. "But the question remains: Will you master the glove, or will it master you?"
Arin felt the weight of the question settle on his shoulders. He had felt the darkness within the glove, the temptation to draw on its power. But he hadn't considered that it might have its own will, its own desires.
"We don't have time for riddles," Karya interjected, her tone sharp. "We need to find Enacra. Can you take us to him or not?"
Arcane smiled, a cold, calculating smile. "Enacra is not far. But you must be prepared for what you will find. He is not the same being you may remember. The years have not been kind to him, and the shadows… they have touched even him."
"What do you mean?" Arin asked, his heart sinking at the thought.
"Enacra has been tainted by the Abyss," Arcane said softly. "He is not the guardian he once was. His power is still great, but his mind… his mind is fractured, torn between the light and the dark. If you seek his guidance, you must be prepared to face the consequences."
Arin exchanged a glance with Karya. They had come too far to turn back now, but the thought of confronting a corrupted Enacra filled him with dread. Still, they had no choice.
"Where is he?" Arin asked, his voice firm.
Arcane raised his hand, and the ground beneath them trembled. The plaza shifted, revealing a hidden staircase that spiraled down into the earth. "Follow this path," Arcane said. "It will lead you to him. But be warned: once you enter, there is no turning back."
Arin looked down at the staircase, the darkness below seeming to pulse with a life of its own. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you."
Arcane's smile faded as he stepped back into the shadows. "Good luck, Arin of Elementis. You will need it."
Without another word, Arin and Karya descended into the depths, their path illuminated only by the faint glow of magic etched into the stone walls. The air grew colder with each step, and Arin's heart pounded in his chest as they ventured deeper into the unknown.
Finally, they reached the bottom of the staircase, where a massive door stood before them, etched with intricate symbols and glowing with arcane energy. Arin placed his hand on the door, feeling the power thrumming beneath his palm.
With a soft click, the door slowly creaked open, revealing a vast chamber bathed in dim light.
And at the center of the room, seated on a throne of stone and shadow, was Enacra.