The air in the ruin grew heavier, thick with the oppressive weight of betrayal. Caelum's eyes locked onto the robed figure before him, his heart hammering in his chest as recognition gnawed at his mind. It was a face he had seen in his nightmares, one twisted by time and shadow—the face of his former comrade, Eryx.
The memories rushed back in a flood, unbidden and painful. Eryx had been one of them—one of the comrades who had once fought beside him, laughed with him, and shared the same cause. But now, standing before him, Eryx was no longer a friend. He was an agent of the darkness, a servant of the Shadow King.
"You…" Caelum breathed, his voice thick with disbelief. "How—how are you here?"
Eryx's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. You always were too trusting, Caelum. Too naïve." His eyes glinted with a cruel light. "Did you think you could escape the pull of the Shadow King's influence? Did you think you were special?"
Lyra stepped forward, her dagger gleaming in the dim light. "What is this? What do you want with us, Eryx?"
Eryx's gaze flickered toward her, his smile widening. "Oh, this is much more than just about you, my dear Lyra. This is about the grand design, the restoration of the true power that lies beyond all of you. The Shadow King will rise again, and you will all fall before him."
The words were like a punch to the gut, the weight of them settling over Caelum like a thick fog. He had always known the cult's goal—to resurrect the Shadow King—but hearing it from Eryx, hearing the conviction in his voice, made it all the more real, all the more inevitable.
"You've been working with the cult all this time," Caelum muttered, more to himself than to Eryx. "That's why you betrayed us. You weren't just after power. You wanted to bring the Shadow King back."
Eryx gave a slight bow, as if Caelum had just paid him the greatest compliment. "Exactly. And you, Caelum, were always going to be a part of that plan. You just didn't know it yet."
The shadows in the room seemed to shift with Eryx's words, growing thicker, darker. The robed figures around him raised their hands once again, chanting in unison, their voices reverberating against the walls of the ruin.
Alara's grip on her spear tightened, her stance defensive. "What are you doing, Eryx?"
Eryx's smile widened further. "We're preparing for your end. You've stumbled into the heart of our power, the nexus where the Shadow King's return begins. This ruin is not just a sanctuary for the cult—it is the beginning of the final ritual. And you, Caelum, are the key."
The chill in the air deepened, as if the very walls of the ruin were closing in around them. Caelum could feel the darkness pressing in, threatening to overwhelm him. The curse on his blade grew heavier, its pull stronger with each passing second. It was almost as if the Shadow King himself was reaching out, waiting for Caelum to make the final choice.
His breath quickened, and for a fleeting moment, the whispers of the sword seemed louder, more persuasive. Power. Destruction. The end of the fight. The Shadow King's return meant the end of everything. But there was a price to pay.
He closed his eyes, pushing back the temptation. This was not the way. He had to resist. Not for him. But for Lyra. For Alara. For the kingdom that still believed in the light.
"No," Caelum said, his voice steely. "I won't let you do this, Eryx. This ends now."
Eryx's eyes darkened. "You think you can stop this? You think you can defy fate itself? You are nothing but a pawn in this game, Caelum. Nothing more."
The robed figures closed in, the dark energy swirling around them. The ruin seemed to groan under the weight of the ritual as the air crackled with malevolent magic. Caelum gripped the Shadowforge Blade tightly, feeling its power surge through him.
"Then we'll see whose fate is stronger," Caelum declared.
Without another word, he lunged forward, his sword raised high. The darkness around him seemed to recoil at his defiance, but the shadows closed in quickly, ready to tear him apart. Lyra and Alara surged forward as well, moving in tandem with Caelum's strike.
But Eryx raised a hand, and the shadows obeyed, forming a barrier between him and Caelum. The force of the shadow shield sent a shockwave through the air, knocking Caelum back and sending him sprawling to the ground. The sword slipped from his grip, its cursed energy still thrumming in his bones.
"No!" Lyra shouted, reaching out to help him up, but the shadows were already upon them, pushing them back.
Eryx's laughter echoed in the ruin, a cruel, hollow sound. "You cannot win. You cannot fight what is already within you. The Shadow King is coming, and all of you will bow before him."
The ground shook violently beneath them as the ritual reached its crescendo, the robed figures chanting louder, their voices merging into a single, unified force. The symbols on the walls burned brighter, casting an eerie, crimson light across the room.
Caelum struggled to rise, his vision blurred from the impact. The weight of the curse pressed down on him, the sword calling out to him like an old friend. Power. He could feel the power surging through his veins, urging him to take it, to embrace it. It was so easy. So tempting.
But then he saw Lyra's face, her determined eyes staring at him. And he remembered why he had come this far. To stop this. To end it.
With a grimace, Caelum forced himself to his feet. His body ached, his mind screamed for him to give in, but he refused.
"No," he whispered to himself, though his voice was barely audible. "I will not be your puppet, Eryx."
The ritual was nearing completion. The Shadow King's return was almost certain. But there was still time—still time to stop it, to destroy the curse that bound him.
Caelum's eyes flickered toward the Shadowforge Blade, lying just out of reach. He had to get to it. He had to end this.