The golden light embraced Drakar and his companions as they stepped through the Starforged Gate. The air was warm, almost comforting, yet beneath its brilliance lay an unsettling silence. The grand hall they entered was vast, with towering pillars that reached into darkness high above. The ceiling was hidden in shadows, as though the stars themselves had chosen to hide.
Kaelen walked forward, his footsteps echoing. "This place... it's beautiful, but I don't like how quiet it is."
Taronis's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Stay ready. The quiet always comes before something loud."
Drakar's eyes scanned the hall. The walls were adorned with murals depicting titanic battles—armored figures wielding blazing weapons against faceless entities of shadow. At the far end of the hall stood a raised dais with an ancient stone podium, atop which rested a crystalline sphere swirling with golden and silver mist.
"The Echo's Heart," Taronis murmured.
Drakar stepped forward. "The Bastion is showing us something... or testing us again."
A Whisper from the Past
As they approached the dais, the swirling mist within the crystal sphere began to glow brighter. The air shimmered, and the sound of faint whispers grew louder until it became a resonant voice.
"Why do you seek the echoes of a broken world?"
The voice was calm yet filled with sorrow.
Drakar placed a hand on the stone podium. "To learn. To understand why the world broke—and how to prevent it from breaking further."
The mist within the sphere shifted, forming the vague silhouette of a figure clad in radiant armor, its face obscured.
"Then know this: the echoes you seek are both your salvation and your doom."
The figure raised its hand, and the murals along the walls began to move, depicting scenes of betrayal, loss, and destruction. Armies fell as the sky shattered, rifts opening like wounds across the land. The central figure—a being bathed in silver flame—stood alone as the world crumbled around them.
Kaelen's voice was barely a whisper. "Is this... the Fracture?"
Taronis nodded grimly. "The day the Veil began to break."
The Echo Awakes
The crystal sphere trembled, and the golden light dimmed. The figure within solidified, stepping free from the mist like a wraith reborn. Its eyes glowed like twin suns, and a spectral blade materialized in its hand.
"To hold the truth is to bear the burden of sacrifice. Will you endure it?"
Drakar drew his dagger, its emberlight flaring to life. "We didn't come this far to turn back."
The figure nodded, almost solemnly. "Then let the echoes test your resolve."
The air around them rippled as the murals dissolved into streams of light that coalesced into spectral forms—soldiers clad in ethereal armor, their faces hidden behind helmets of starlight.
Clash of Echoes
The first wave of spectral soldiers surged forward, their blades humming with energy. Drakar met the charge head-on, his tattoos flaring with emberlight as he parried a downward strike and countered with a sweeping slash. His dagger burned through the soldier's form, reducing it to embers.
Taronis fought with disciplined precision, his blade weaving between strikes with deadly grace. He blocked a thrust aimed at his heart and drove his sword through the specter's chest, its body flickering before vanishing.
Kaelen leapt onto a broken pillar, loosing arrows that shimmered with violet flame. Each shot found its mark, striking down two soldiers at a time. "One after another," he muttered. "How many more?"
The spectral figure raised its blade, and more echoes emerged from the walls—shimmering forms of long-forgotten warriors.
A Strain on Resolve
Drakar's breath grew heavy as the battle raged on. His arms burned from the effort of blocking and striking, but he pushed forward. He shouted over the chaos, "Taronis! The leader—it's fueling them!"
Taronis nodded, his eyes narrowing. "We need to take it down."
Kaelen loosed another enchanted arrow, striking a group of advancing soldiers. "I'll cover you."
Drakar and Taronis moved in tandem, weaving through the swarm of echoes. The spectral figure watched them approach, its blade raised in defiance. Drakar's emberlit eyes locked onto its glowing form.
The Final Strike
The figure struck first, its blade carving through the air with blinding speed. Drakar dodged to the side, the blade missing him by inches. Taronis lunged from the opposite side, his sword blazing with blue fire. Their blades clashed with the echo's, and the sound rang out like a bell.
Drakar's tattoos flared as he whispered, "Infernum Pulse." His dagger erupted in a burst of flame, forcing the echo back.
Taronis seized the moment, slashing upward with all his strength. His sword cleaved through the figure's form, splitting it into fragments of light.
The echoes around them flickered and dissolved, their forms drifting upward like ash caught in the wind.
The Heart's Secret
The crystal sphere on the podium pulsed with a gentle glow. The voice returned, softer now.
"You have endured. The truth is yours to carry."
The sphere cracked, and from its core emerged a small, star-shaped fragment of silver and gold—a relic pulsating with ancient power.
Drakar reached out and took the fragment. It was warm, yet it pulsed with a hum that resonated with the Veil itself.
Kaelen lowered his bow, his breath unsteady. "What... is that?"
Taronis's expression darkened. "A piece of the truth."
Drakar held the fragment close, feeling its weight—not in mass, but in meaning. "We need to keep moving. This is only the beginning."
The golden light in the hall dimmed as another passageway opened, this time leading deeper into the Bastion's heart.