Kaelron's world flickered between blinding light and smothering darkness, his vision swimming as the relic at his side pulsed erratically. Bound to the shadow-forged altar, he struggled to distinguish reality from the fragments of memories and emotions bombarding his mind. Every beat of the relic against his skin sent fresh waves of heat and cold through him, each pulse whispering words he couldn't fully comprehend.
The chamber was filled with the cultists' guttural chants, their voices rising and falling in a haunting rhythm. Shadow energy coursed through the runes carved into the stone floor, converging beneath the altar. Veyrith stood nearby, watching Kaelron with a predatory gaze, his dark cloak rippling unnaturally.
"You feel it, don't you?" Veyrith said, his voice smooth and cold. "The relic is calling to you, showing you what you refuse to accept."
