As Halven stepped through the doorway, he lagged behind, his eyes fixed on the pedestals they had left behind. Without thinking, he reached out and snatched a tome from one of the pedestals. The moment his fingers made contact with the book, he felt a sudden jolt of energy. The air around him seemed to thicken, and he passed out.
When Halven came to, he found himself standing in a vast, cavernous space. The walls were made of a dark, glittering stone that seemed to absorb the light around him, and the air was thick with the scent of decay and corruption. A sense of foreboding washed over him as he took in the eerie landscape.
The ground beneath his feet seemed to writhe and twist like a living thing. Before him stretched a vast, cavernous space, lit by flickering torches that seemed to cast more shadows than light. The walls of the cavern were lined with twisted, nightmarish trees that seemed to reach out towards him like skeletal fingers.
At the far end of the cavern, Halven saw a figure seated on a throne-like structure. The throne was made of black stone, and it seemed to absorb the light around it, giving it an eerie, otherworldly glow. As he drew closer, he saw that the figure on the throne was a being of immense power, bound by powerful magical chains that seemed to pulse with energy.
The chains were wrapped around the figure's body, binding him to the throne. They seemed to be made of a dark, misty material that seemed to writhe and twist like living serpents. As Halven watched, the chains seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if they were draining the figure's power. His body seemed to have shrunk, growing more frail with each passing moment.
Despite the chains, the figure's presence still seemed to fill the cavern. His power was like a palpable force, pressing down on Halven and making it hard to breathe. Halven felt a sense of unease as he approached the figure. He knew that he was in the presence of a being of immense power, and that he was at its mercy.
As Halven drew closer, the figure slowly raised his head, his eyes locking onto Halven's. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the only sound the creaking of the chains and the distant rumble of thunder.
Then, in a voice that was like a rusty gate, the figure spoke. "You're just a kid, weaker than me even in my sealed state," he said. "I have been sealed here for ages. How did you get here?" With that, the whole chamber rumbled, startling Halven and instilling fear.
Halven took a step back, his heart racing with fear. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure's face was a twisted blend of cute and terrifying features. His skin was a pale, porcelain-like complexion, with a subtle sheen that seemed almost... scaled. His eyes were an unsettling shade of yellow, with vertical pupils that seemed to gleam with an otherworldly intelligence.
But it was his horns that truly caught the eye. Small and delicate, they protruded from his forehead like tiny, curved scimitars. They were a deep, burnished red, and seemed to glow with an inner fire. Despite their small size, the horns seemed to radiate an aura of malevolent power.
The figure's smile was a thin, cruel line that seemed to split his face in two. His lips were pale and thin, and seemed to curl upwards in a perpetual sneer. Overall, the figure's features were a jarring mix of cute and terrifying. He was like a twisted, corrupted cherub, with a face that seemed both innocent and malevolent at the same time.
"My name is Xoraxys," the figure continued, his eyes seeming to bore into Halven's soul. "And you, are the key to my freedom and revenge against those lousy pantheons that sealed me here." Another vibration came, and Xoraxys touched his chin thoughtfully. Then, he snapped his fingers.
Halven's vision began to blur and distort, and he could feel himself being pulled into a dark vortex. As his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a desolate, barren landscape. The ground beneath his feet was dry and cracked, and the sky above was a deep, foreboding crimson.
Before him stood Xoraxys, tall and imposing. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire. He was surrounded by a halo of dark energy, and his very presence seemed to radiate an aura of malevolent power.
"What is your name, boy?" Xoraxys asked, his voice low and husky.
Halven swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "I...I'm Halven," he stammered.
Xoraxys's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, Halven," he repeated. "I have been waiting for you. You are the one I have chosen to aid in my release."
Halven's eyes narrowed. "Why me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Xoraxys's laughter was like thunder, shaking the very foundations of the desolate landscape. "You are weak, Halven," he said. "Your will is fragile, your resolve easily broken. And it is precisely that weakness that makes you the perfect vessel for my return."
Halven's face twisted in anger. "I'm not weak," he spat. "I'm strong. And I'll never help you."
Xoraxys's smile grew wider, his eyes burning with excitement. "We'll see about that, Halven," he said.
With that, Xoraxys raised his hand, and Halven felt a surge of dark energy wash over him. He tried to resist, but it was too late. The energy consumed him, and Halven felt his mind being pulled apart.