The storm above the ruined city had worsened. Lightning streaked across the sky in jagged bursts, illuminating the broken landscape in eerie flashes of white-blue. The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying whispers that may have been nothing more than tricks of the mind—or something far older than them.
Ryn held the amulet tightly in his hand, its weight heavier than it should have been. It pulsed in time with the sigil on his chest, sending small vibrations through his arm. Whatever power it contained, it was still waking up.
"We should move," Serafina said, scanning the shadows warily. "That thing we fought back there—it wasn't alone."
"Agreed," Lyara said, nocking an arrow as her sharp eyes flitted between the alleyways and ruined buildings. "Something's watching us."
Korin let out a tense breath. "I'd really love to go one day without being hunted by eldritch horrors."
They pressed forward, weaving through the desolate streets. The ruins felt even more oppressive now, the presence of something unseen clawing at the edges of their senses. As they moved deeper into the city, they passed crumbling statues and faded murals that depicted battles long forgotten. The figures carved into the stone bore armor and weapons unlike any Ryn had ever seen—elegant, deadly, and unmistakably tied to the sigil's power.
"This city didn't fall to time," Serafina murmured, running her fingers over a mural depicting a monstrous figure surrounded by armored warriors. "It was destroyed. A war was fought here, one that nearly tore this place apart."
Ryn studied the figures. The armored warriors bore sigils on their chests, much like his own, but different—more refined, more complete. "And they lost," he said quietly. "Whoever fought here... they lost."
Korin shifted uncomfortably. "Which makes me wonder—if they were stronger than us and still failed, what chance do we have?"
Before Ryn could answer, the amulet in his hand flared brightly. A sudden wave of heat washed over him, and the world around them blurred. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, and the ruins shimmered as if reality itself were shifting.
Then, the visions came.
The city was no longer ruins. It was alive—towering spires gleamed in the golden sunlight, banners flapped in the wind, and armored figures moved with purpose through the streets. Their sigils burned bright, radiating power.
Ryn was no longer himself. He saw through the eyes of another—a warrior, standing at the edge of a great battle. The air was thick with tension as dark shapes emerged from the horizon, their forms shifting, unnatural. The warrior's comrades tightened their grips on their weapons, their gazes hardened. A woman stood at the forefront, her sigil shining like a beacon.
"They come," she said, her voice resolute. "Stand firm. We are the last line."
Then, chaos.
Darkness surged forward like a living tide. Screams rang out as the warriors clashed with the abyssal creatures. Blades met shadow, light met darkness, but the enemy was unrelenting. One by one, the warriors fell, their sigils flickering and fading. The woman fought fiercely, her power carving through the darkness, but even she was overwhelmed.
The last thing Ryn saw before the vision shattered was the city burning, the sigils extinguishing one by one, and the amulet—his amulet—falling into the dust.
The vision faded, and Ryn stumbled, gasping for breath. The ruins returned to focus around him, but the echoes of the past still clung to his mind.
Lyara steadied him. "Ryn! What happened?"
He swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "I saw... them. The ones who came before us. They fought against something—something they couldn't stop."
Serafina's expression darkened. "And they failed."
Ryn looked down at the amulet, its glow now dim. "But they left this behind. A key, maybe. A piece of what they lost." He clenched his fist around it. "And if we don't figure out how to use it, we'll end up just like them."
A sound echoed through the ruins—a deep, resonant chime, like a bell tolling in the distance. The storm above them crackled, and a shiver ran through the air.
"We're out of time," Korin muttered, his grip tightening on his daggers.
Ryn took a deep breath and looked toward the looming horizon. The city's center still lay ahead, and with it, the answers they desperately needed.
"Then we keep moving," he said. "Before the past catches up to us."
With the weight of history pressing down on them, they forged ahead, deeper into the heart of the fallen city, where the truth—and whatever nightmares guarded it—awaited