Chapter 11:
The Shardspire Peaks grew colder as the group ascended, the air sharp with frost and the wind howling through the jagged cliffs. The battle at the plateau lingered in Ashen's mind, the emissary's words echoing louder with every step.
"The light isn't your salvation—it is your burden."
He shook his head, trying to focus on the path ahead. Lira led the way, her sharp eyes scanning for danger, while Caelum remained close behind, sword ready at his side.
The hermit's voice cut through the silence. "The sanctuary isn't far now. But tread carefully—the echoes of what was lost linger here."
"Echoes?" Lira asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"The memories of the divine," the hermit explained. "When gods fall, their essence doesn't simply vanish. It imprints itself on the places they once called sacred. You may see visions, hear voices… or worse."
"Wonderful," Caelum muttered.
---
They came to a narrow pass flanked by two towering spires of black stone. Beyond it lay a vast expanse, a valley shrouded in mist. At its center stood a massive structure carved directly into the mountain—a temple of intricate design, its towering arches and sharp angles reminiscent of a time long past.
"The sanctuary," the hermit said.
Ashen felt a pang of recognition as they approached. The architecture was unmistakably divine, its designs meant to inspire awe and reverence. Yet now, it was faded and broken, the weight of centuries pressing down on its once-pristine walls.
The air grew heavier as they crossed the threshold, and the relic in Ashen's satchel began to hum softly.
"Stay close," he warned.
---
The interior of the temple was vast and empty, its high ceilings adorned with faded murals of battles between gods and titans. Broken statues lay scattered across the floor, their faces worn away by time.
But as they ventured deeper, the whispers began.
Faint at first, like the rustling of leaves, but soon they grew louder, distinct words carried on the air.
"Azrael…"
Ashen froze. The voice was achingly familiar.
"Did you hear that?" Lira asked, her hand on her bow.
Caelum nodded. "I thought it was just the wind, but—"
"Azrael…"
The voice came again, stronger this time. It echoed through the chamber, pulling Ashen forward. He broke into a run, ignoring the calls of his companions.
The whispers guided him to a large chamber at the heart of the temple. At its center stood a shattered throne, its once-gilded surface now tarnished and cracked. Above it hovered a faint, shimmering figure—a woman clad in flowing robes of light, her form flickering like a dying flame.
"Isla…" Ashen whispered, his voice breaking.
The figure turned to him, her ethereal eyes filled with sorrow. "Azrael… you've returned."
Lira and Caelum caught up, their weapons drawn, but they froze at the sight of the apparition.
"Who… who is that?" Lira asked, her voice hushed.
"Isla," Ashen said, his eyes never leaving the figure. "She was…" He hesitated. "She was a god, like me. She led the Pantheon before…"
"Before you fell," Isla finished for him, her voice soft but sharp.
Ashen flinched. "I didn't choose to fall."
"No," Isla said, her form flickering. "But you didn't stop it, either."
The words cut deeper than any blade. Ashen took a step forward, his fists clenched. "I tried to stop him. You know I did."
"I know," Isla said, her voice heavy with regret. "But trying wasn't enough. And now, the world suffers for it."
The chamber grew colder, and the whispers returned, louder and more chaotic. The walls seemed to shimmer, and the murals shifted, replaying scenes of destruction: cities crumbling under Malthor's shadow, mortals crying out in despair, and gods falling one by one.
"Isla, I—" Ashen began, but she raised a hand to silence him.
"There's no time for apologies, Azrael. Malthor's power grows stronger with each passing day. You've awakened the relic, but that is only the beginning."
Her form flickered again, and her voice grew fainter. "The light within you can destroy him… but it will demand everything. Are you prepared to pay that price?"
Ashen hesitated. The weight of her words pressed down on him, the memories of his past failures swirling in his mind.
"I don't have a choice," he said finally. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop him."
Isla's gaze softened, and for a moment, her flickering form seemed more solid. "Then perhaps there is hope yet."
She reached out, her hand passing through his chest, and Ashen felt a surge of warmth as a fragment of her essence merged with the relic.
"The sanctuary will guide you," she said, her voice fading. "But beware, Azrael. Malthor knows you're coming. And he will stop at nothing to end you."
With those final words, her form dissolved into light, leaving the chamber silent once more.
---
Ashen turned to his companions, his expression grim.
"We need to keep moving," he said. "The sanctuary holds answers, but we're running out of time."
Lira nodded, though her face was pale. "That… was a god, wasn't it?"
Caelum placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We've fought worse."
Ashen didn't respond. He led the way deeper into the temple, the relic's glow guiding their path.
But in the farthest corners of his mind, Isla's words lingered. *It will demand everything.*
And for the first time, he wondered if he truly had the strength to see it through.