Dressed in simple trousers and a black shirt with a robe draped over his shoulders, and black boots, Tyrese slung a small side bag across his chest to carry his stone sigils. He made his way toward the southern entrance of Solhollow. The guards stationed there gave him little more than a passing glance; leaving the town wasn't prohibited, and Tyrese's demeanor drew no suspicion.
Stepping beyond the gates, he began his journey toward the Ancient Forest. The towering trees loomed in the distance, their canopies swaying gently in the breeze. As he reached the forest's edge, Tyrese paused, glancing back at the town one last time before stepping into the shadowy embrace of the woods.
The forest was vast, its trees towering several meters into the sky, their trunks wide enough to house entire families. Despite its enormity, Tyrese navigated the terrain with ease. Though he had only visited the Lost Sanctuary once before, the path was etched into his memory. The forest felt alive around him, the wind rushing past his ears, carrying the occasional melody of birdsong or the distant calls of unseen creatures. Yet, the journey proved uneventful—no signs of danger emerged.
When he finally reached the Lost Sanctuary, its grandeur struck him anew. Broken pillars jutted toward the sky, their edges worn by time. Moss clung to sections of the ancient walls, while thick vines wound their way up others. Despite the decay, the sanctuary retained an awe-inspiring air of majesty.
Tyrese wasted no time. He entered through the shattered gates, their once-imposing structure now a testament to the ravages of time. Inside, the sanctuary sprawled with multiple chambers, their purposes long forgotten. On his previous visit, Tyrese had merely wandered, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the place. But today, he sought answers, and every detail demanded his attention.
His eyes were drawn to the walls, where faded paintings depicted scenes of humanity's past. The images told a story: men and women living in harmony, worshiping radiant figures that seemed to represent gods.
"Are these the gods mentioned in the book I found?" Tyrese murmured to himself. "The All-Father and his children?"
He continued along the chamber, tracing the narrative etched into the walls. The paintings showed humanity thriving, generation after generation, practicing what appeared to be Will. Yet, they did so without sigils; the symbols they drew seemed to serve a different purpose entirely.
Then came a shift. The gods departed, leaving humanity to fend for itself. At first, the people continued their prayers and rituals, clutching sacred books that recorded the gods' teachings. But as generations passed, faith dwindled. The books, once revered, were disregarded, and the knowledge within them was forgotten. Humanity lost the art of Will, becoming ordinary—bereft of abilities or power.
Tyrese's gaze lingered on one mural in particular. It depicted a radiant figure descending from the heavens, bathed in blinding light. The figure stood amidst awestruck humans, its form almost indistinguishable from the light that surrounded it.
"Is this the God of Light?" Tyrese wondered aloud, his brows furrowing. "Or could it be one of the old gods returning?"
The clarity of the paintings began to fade. Colors that had once been vivid were now muted, and entire sections of the wall were missing, crumbled by the passage of time. Tyrese strained to make sense of the fading images, but eventually, there was nothing left to see.
He stood in the silence of the chamber, deep in thought. What do these paintings mean? he wondered. They tell a story different from the one written in the book I found. Could there be more to the truth than what I've read?
The weight of the unanswered questions settled heavily on Tyrese's mind. The sanctuary seemed to hold a thousand secrets, each more elusive than the last.
Tyrese continued his exploration, moving through chambers that seemed to have served as prayer halls, teaching rooms, ritual spaces, and even sleeping quarters. In one chamber, he found a large stone basin filled with water, which he assumed was once used for bathing. Yet, despite his thorough search, nothing relevant emerged. The walls bore no more stories, and even when he found faint remnants of paintings, they were so eroded that their meaning was lost to time.
Frustration began to creep into his thoughts. 'Maybe this place doesn't hold the answers I'm looking for after all' he mused bitterly. Even the chamber where he had discovered the old book seemed devoid of further clues.
Still, he pressed on, unwilling to give up just yet. As he walked into one of the larger chambers, his footfalls echoed strangely. The floor beneath him sounded hollow, as though it concealed a hidden space. His heart quickened with hope.
He knelt and examined the ground, searching for anything unusual. At first, his attempts to uncover the secret were clumsy. He tried activating a power sigil and striking the floor, but the force accomplished little beyond creating cracks in the stone. The realization struck him belatedly: That was reckless. If the floor collapsed entirely, I might have destroyed whatever lies below.
Chastising himself, Tyrese resumed his search with more care. After minutes of scrutiny, he finally noticed a mechanism—a small, moisture-covered button with faint sigil markings. Clearing away the moisture, the markings became visible. Intrigued, Tyrese pressed the button.
To his surprise, his Willpower surged from him involuntarily, flowing into the sigil etched on the mechanism. The floor quaked beneath him, and a section of stone slid aside to reveal a spiral staircase descending into darkness. Tyrese stepped back instinctively, startled by how his Willpower had been drawn out without his consent.
So that's the purpose of these ancient sigils depicted in those paintings, he thought.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and began his descent. The stairs were illuminated by a faint, pale-blue light emanating from sigils on the walls and ceiling. The glow was dim but enough to guide his path.
When he reached the bottom, he found himself in a vast underground chamber. Massive pillars, seemingly untouched by the passage of time, supported the ceiling with an almost intimidating solidity. The chamber itself, however, bore the same signs of neglect as the halls above—dust blanketed every surface, and the air carried the scent of ancient stone and decay.
Tyrese advanced cautiously, narrowing his eyes to study every detail the dim light revealed. His footsteps echoed faintly, amplifying the eerie silence.
Then he saw it.
His breath caught in his throat as his body froze. Goosebumps rippled across his skin, and his mind momentarily went blank. At the far end of the hall stood something that defied comprehension: a massive, fragmented mirror, its jagged pieces suspended in mid-air. The phenomenon pulsed faintly, as though it were alive, its surface exuding faint particles of dark dust that dissipated into the surrounding air.
It was as if space itself had ruptured and collapsed, leaving behind this surreal, otherworldly anomaly. Each pulse seemed almost like a breath, slow and steady, emanating an unspoken dread.
Tyrese's voice came out as a whisper, hoarse and laden with disbelief. "This… this is exactly what Sir Arras described. The portal to another dimension—the one where the Rodraks came from."