Above them, the vault's door stretched —a slab of pitted Etherite taller than three men, its surface etched with runes that writhed like serpents under torchlight.
Lira craned her neck, her Duskwyrm cloak shimmering as it could finally rest from repelling the Blight mist coiling around their ankles. Without it, her skin would've already bubbled.
Kael didn't need the cloak. The Blight here welcomed him. It slithered through his veins, cold and familiar, a whisper only he could hear.
*…open us…free us…*
"Cheery decor," Lira muttered, prodding a skeletal hand protruding from the moss. The fingers clutched a rusted dagger.
"Last guy didn't get the 'sacrifice' memos, huh?"
Before Kael could reply, the runes flared.
Light pooled in the air, coalescing into a figure—a holographic guardian, its form flickering between humanoid and something else.
