The spiral staircase beneath the Door of Echoes descended endlessly into shadow. The faint hum of ancient magic reverberated through the air, mingling with the slow, rhythmic drip of water from unseen crevices. Each step echoed down the stone corridor, swallowed by the abyss below.
Drakar paused briefly, his emberlit eyes scanning the twisting path. The glow from his tattoos cast faint patterns on the walls, highlighting ancient murals etched into the stone.
Elara ran her fingers along the carvings, her expression solemn. "These murals... they're stories."
Vaelen stepped closer, his voice hushed with reverence. "The Bastion's history etched in stone. I thought they were myths."
The carvings depicted towering figures locked in battle—one side wielding fire and light, the other shrouded in shadow and void. In the center was an image of a colossal being chained beneath a broken sky.
Seris's voice was quiet. "What kind of creature would need chains that large?"
Kaelen tightened his grip on his bow. "One that shouldn't exist."
Drakar exhaled, his gaze lingering on the final mural—an image of a gate surrounded by flames, shadowy hands reaching toward it. "Whatever lies ahead... this place remembers a war we've forgotten."
The Chamber of Echoes
The stairs ended in an immense circular chamber. The walls were lined with towering obsidian obelisks, each marked with intricate, glowing runes. At the center of the room, a massive stone pedestal held a single object—a blackened tome bound with silver chains.
Vaelen's breath caught in his throat. "The Codex of Eryndral."
Elara's frost-blue eyes narrowed. "The Dral'Thar kept a record of their victories... but why leave it here?"
Before Vaelen could answer, a low hum filled the room, and the obelisks flared with violet light. The air thickened, and shadowy figures began to take form—echoes of long-dead warriors encased in spectral armor.
A cold voice filled the chamber. "No mortal is worthy of the Codex."
Drakar's blade flared to life with emberlight as he stepped forward. "We'll see about that."
A Battle of Echoes
The spectral warriors moved as one, their hollow eyes burning with a malevolent glow. Their weapons shimmered with ethereal energy, leaving trails of shadow in their wake.
"Form up!" Taronis's voice boomed as he raised his shield. "Protect Vaelen!"
Kaelen's arrows flew, each shot imbued with precision and purpose. The first arrow pierced a specter's helm, causing its form to flicker before dissipating. "Keep them off the pedestal!" he called out.
Seris danced between strikes, her daggers flashing like silver streaks. Each thrust disrupted the spectral warriors' forms, sending shards of glowing mist into the air.
Elara's frost blade pulsed as she clashed with an armored specter, its halberd cutting arcs through the dim light. She sidestepped a downward slash and countered with a sweeping strike that encased the specter in a thick layer of ice. With a sharp twist, the ice shattered, and the warrior dissolved.
Drakar surged toward the center of the room, his movements swift and deliberate. His tattoos burned bright as he met a massive specter wielding a greatsword. The impact of their clash sent a shockwave rippling through the chamber.
The specter's voice was a guttural echo. "You carry the fire... but do you carry the will?"
Drakar's grip tightened. "More than you know."
With a surge of power, he drove his dagger upward, the emberlight piercing through the specter's chest. The figure let out a final, haunting wail before disintegrating.
The Codex Unbound
The last of the spectral warriors faded into the ether, their remnants swirling like ash in the dim glow of the obelisks. The chamber grew still, save for the faint hum of the Codex.
Vaelen stepped forward, reverence in his every movement. His fingers traced the silver chains binding the ancient tome. "The Codex of Eryndral holds knowledge lost to the ages. Spells, histories... and warnings."
Drakar approached, his emberlit gaze steady. "What kind of warnings?"
Vaelen's voice was low. "The Dral'Thar believed that the Codex contained the prophecy of the world's end—the final war between creation and oblivion."
Elara's expression hardened. "If that's true, we need to know what's coming."
With a deep breath, Vaelen began to unravel the chains. The runes flared, then dimmed as the final lock released. The Codex opened slowly, its pages glowing with a soft, golden light.
As Vaelen read aloud, his voice echoed through the chamber. "In the time of dusk, when shadows consume the sky, a flame shall rise—a spark against the void. But only the unbroken will stand against the tide."
Seris's brow furrowed. "A spark... is that us?"
Drakar's gaze didn't waver. "We'll make it so."
The Path Forward
As the echoes of Vaelen's reading faded, the obelisks surrounding the chamber dimmed until only the faint glow of the Codex remained. The spiral staircase loomed behind them, but ahead, a passage carved into the stone led deeper into the Bastion.
Taronis sheathed his sword and stepped forward. "What now?"
Drakar's emberlit tattoos pulsed as he turned toward the dark passage. "We keep going. Whatever waits ahead, we face it together."
Elara stepped beside him, her frost blade gleaming in the low light. "And we finish what they started."
The group moved forward, their footsteps steady despite the uncertainty ahead. The shadows seemed to ripple with anticipation, as if the Bastion itself was watching.
Far above, the storm clouds churned, and the wind carried whispers of something vast stirring in the abyss.