Kael's fingers trembled as he held the map above the altar, the runes glowing with an eerie, pulsing light. The ink seemed to writhe on the paper, alive with energy, and the air around him thickened, pressing in like a living thing.
His heart raced. The map felt as if it were calling to him, urging him to unlock something ancient, something powerful. He wasn't sure if it was the magic of the map or his own need for answers, but deep down, he knew this was a choice he couldn't turn away from. The temptation was too great.
With a final, desperate motion, Kael placed the map on the altar. The moment it touched the stone, the room exploded with a force Kael wasn't prepared for. A blast of wind snuffed out the torches, plunging the room into a chaotic darkness. Shadows twisted into shapes that defied reason. The ground rumbled beneath them, and the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
Erya reached for him, but it was too late.
A blinding light filled the room, and for a split second, everything went silent. Kael gasped for breath, his senses overwhelmed. The magic in the air felt suffocating, and the world around him spun, leaving him unable to hear anything—Erya's voice, the rumble of the temple—everything was drowned out by the intensity of the magic.
When the light finally faded, Kael stumbled back, blinking in the dim, unnatural glow that now filled the room. The walls, once stone and solid, were now slick with a dark, liquid-like substance, pulsing with energy. The air was heavy with power.
"W-what did I do?" Kael whispered, his voice shaking as he looked around, horror creeping into his chest. The map had disintegrated, leaving only faint traces of its runes on the altar. The glow lingered, but it was different now—darker, more ominous.
Kael turned to Erya, his body trembling. The calm and steady woman who had traveled with him now seemed as uncertain as he felt. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, knuckles white.
"The kingdom may be forgotten," she said quietly, "but its magic is eternal. You've just made it real."
As if in response, a deep, guttural groan echoed through the temple. The ground shook again, and the shadows seemed to grow, stretching toward them like hungry hands.
"I didn't mean to," Kael muttered, guilt tightening in his chest. "I didn't know—"
"You should have," Erya cut him off, her voice sharp. "Now we have to survive."
A cold wind swept through the chamber, and with it, whispers—ancient, unintelligible words that slithered into Kael's mind. They twisted his thoughts, pulling him into the dark history of Eryndor. Something ancient, something evil, was awakening in the shadows.
Kael swallowed hard. "What do we do now?"
Erya's eyes were scanning the room, her body tense. "We leave," she said, urgency in her voice. "Now."
The ground trembled again, and the floor cracked. A black tendril of smoke rose from the center of the room, swirling like a storm cloud. Kael's pulse quickened as he stepped back, feeling the weight of the magic grow heavier.
"Where do we go?" Kael asked, his voice hoarse.
"Anywhere but here," Erya replied, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit. Kael hesitated, looking back at the darkness that was closing in behind them.
"Are we too late?" he whispered.
Erya's face was hard, determined. "Not if we move fast enough."
They sprinted through the temple, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. The whispers grew louder, crawling into Kael's mind, feeding him visions of the kingdom's fall—of a magic so powerful, it consumed everything in its path.
As they neared the entrance, Kael glanced back. The walls of the temple were twisting, shifting with shadows. The pulse of ancient magic thrummed through the stones, and Kael knew—there was no turning back. The door had been opened, and the world would remember what they had awoken.