The chamber was silent, save for the distant echo of his own thoughts. The shadows that had once clung to Caelum's every move had begun to recede, but he knew it wasn't over. The blade had been destroyed, but the consequences of its curse remained—embedded in his soul, in the very fiber of his being.
He turned away from the forge, his steps slow, deliberate. He could still feel the presence of the Shadow King in the depths of his mind, like a shadow lurking just out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
The path ahead was unclear. He had destroyed the artifact, but the war was far from won. The cult still existed, and their efforts to bring the Shadow King back to life were ongoing. Worse, Caelum knew that even with the blade gone, he wasn't truly free of the curse. The darkness had marked him, and its influence would never be fully erased.
But there was a chance—a chance that he could fight back, that he could find a way to sever the ties that bound him to the Shadow King's power. Caelum had come this far, and he would not stop now.
The shadows in the chamber seemed to shift, as if in response to his resolve. He took a deep breath, pushing the weight of the past aside. His journey was not over—not by a long shot.
As he walked out of the chamber, he knew one thing: the fight was no longer just about the Shadow King.
It was about saving himself—and the world.