Golden odyssey

The descent seemed endless, the worn stone steps creaking under their feet as a cold wind whistled through the cracks, whispering words they could not understand. The air around them was dense, almost tangible, as if the darkness itself sought to swallow them whole.

Eryndal could feel the symbol etched into his palm, pulsing with ancient energy. He had yet to fully grasp the weight of what the Arch had revealed, but he knew one thing: this passage was not merely a door. It was a threshold they were crossing, and what lay at the end of this path would change them forever.

Darek led the way, his sword gripped tightly, ready to strike at a moment's notice. His gaze was sharp, his wariness unmistakable. Every dark corner seemed to conceal an unseen threat.

— "Something tells me we're not going to like what we find," he muttered.

Elion, ever composed, followed without haste, his half-closed eyes as if listening to a distant echo, something the others could not perceive.

— "If this is the Call of the Ancients, then what we encounter here is not of this world," he said, almost to himself. "It is neither a mere trial nor a trap. It is a choice."

A shiver ran down Eryndal's spine at those words. A choice… He did not yet know what kind of choice awaited him in the darkness, but he could feel the pressure, as if an invisible force was urging him to prepare for the inevitable.

The descent continued, seemingly without end, until at last, the ground beneath their feet became smoother, as if an entirely different material had taken over. They had arrived.

Before them, a massive door of dark metal loomed, etched with ancient runes, nearly worn away by time.

Alessia stopped just short of crossing the threshold, her gaze scrutinizing the enigma before them.

— "Do you feel that?" she asked, tense.

Eryndal slowly nodded. A presence, more powerful than anything they had encountered so far, lay beyond this door. It was not merely magic but something vaster, something… primordial.

The hooded man stepped forward without hesitation, placing a hand against the door. At that moment, the runes glowed with a golden light, and a deep rumbling resonated through the stone.

— "The Veil of Oblivion is lifting," he said simply.

The door groaned open with a low, echoing sound, revealing a vast hall bathed in an eerie, almost unreal light. At its center, an enormous stone circle, inscribed with countless symbols, stretched before them. Above, shadows moved—indistinct, ethereal figures shifting and reforming within the light.

— "We are not alone here," Elion murmured.

No sooner had he spoken than a deep voice, as if rising from the depths of the earth, filled the air.

— "Who dares enter the domain of the Ancients?"

The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet, and the air grew suddenly cold.

The shadow of an imposing figure appeared before them, materializing in a cloud of dust and light. A being as old as time itself, formed of pure energy and darkness, loomed over the group.

Eryndal felt the weight pressing against his chest, an overwhelming force, but he knew there was no turning back. They had come too far to flee now.

— "We are the heirs of the passage," the hooded man declared, his voice calm yet resolute. "And we seek the truth, as you once did."

The creature observed them for a long moment, its piercing gaze seeming to delve into the very depths of their souls.

— "Then you have come to claim what was promised to you… But remember, mortals, even the oldest truths can destroy those who dare seek them."

A soft, almost wind-like laughter escaped the creature's lips.

— "The time for choices has come. Choose wisely. Choose with sacrifice."