Darkness swallowed them whole.
One moment, Liam and Aeris stood on solid ground within the temple's sanctum. The next, they were falling—spiraling downward through stone and time and shadow. The glow of the shard faded above them like a vanishing star.
They landed hard, the air knocked from their lungs as dust and echoing silence settled around them.
Liam groaned, his back aching. "Okay... definitely not how I imagined ending the day."
Aeris pushed herself up, brushing debris from her armor. "You followed me."
He coughed and sat up. "Yeah. You're welcome, by the way."
They scanned their surroundings—an enormous underground chamber stretched out before them. Ancient murals covered the curved walls, partially buried in roots and rubble. Faint light came from veins of glowing mineral threading through the stone, illuminating eerie statues of cloaked figures, their hands clasped in prayer or battle poses.
"What is this place?" Liam whispered.
Aeris stepped forward, her voice low. "A forgotten temple… beneath the temple above. I've heard stories, but even the Realm's scholars considered it myth."
From behind one of the broken columns, a soft click echoed.
Liam froze. "...Please tell me that was your stomach."
A shadow emerged, hunched and breathing heavily. It wasn't entirely human—its limbs too long, spine too bent. Glowing eyes blinked from beneath a hood.
Then another appeared. And another.
Aeris stepped back toward Liam. "Caretakers."
"Friendly?"
She drew her blade. "Not even remotely."
The creatures moved in unison, their limbs twitching as if jerked by invisible strings. Whispered phrases filled the room—fragments of sentences and names in languages long dead.
The pair turned back-to-back, blades raised. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Liam asked.
"If what you're thinking involves a reckless charge and reckless spells, then yes," Aeris said.
"Perfect. Let's make it messy."
They attacked.
Liam surged forward, his hands crackling with chaotic energy. His control was still shaky—each spell felt like lighting a firework with too-short a fuse—but he had learned to channel it with bursts of instinct. A pulse of energy knocked two of the caretakers off their feet, but a third dodged, claws slashing toward him.
Aeris was a blur of precision. Every slash of her blades met flesh and cloth, her footwork honed from years of battle. She was quick—too quick for them to catch fully, but they adapted, surrounding her like a hive.
Liam shouted as one lunged for her blind spot, casting a flash-burst that exploded with a blast of white-blue light. The creature screeched and fell back.
Aeris spared him a glance. "That was actually helpful."
"Don't sound too surprised," he replied, panting.
After a brutal scuffle, the creatures withdrew into the walls, vanishing like smoke. For a moment, all was still again.
Then the wall across the chamber shivered—not moved, not cracked—but shivered, like something behind it had drawn a breath.
A massive stone door slowly creaked open, revealing a stairway bathed in blue light. In the center of the steps lay a sealed pedestal, runes glowing faintly.
Aeris approached with caution. "Another shard?"
Liam frowned. "No… look closer."
They both peered over the pedestal. It wasn't a fragment. It was a lockbox, its surface lined with protective sigils. In its center glowed a small slot, shaped like the two fragments they had retrieved—but larger.
"It's a core," Aeris breathed. "This is where the fragments connect. But it's locked."
Liam placed the two fragments they had found into the slot, but nothing happened.
"They're only half the key," he said.
A deep rumble filled the chamber. On the far wall, a mural lit up—the image of a goddess-like figure holding a completed book glowing with ethereal light. Beside her stood figures cloaked in white: the Protectors. Beneath them, split in two, the book was shown torn between two realms—one golden and shining, the other gray and stormy.
Aeris touched the wall gently. "So the legends were true. Half the spellbook was hidden in the realm... the other half in the human world."
"And Elira," Liam said quietly, realization dawning. "If she was sent to protect it... she might have part of the key."
"But if her memories are gone…" Aeris muttered. "She may not even know she has it."
The pedestal pulsed. A new sigil shimmered—a compass. A direction.
Liam leaned in. "It's pointing... north?"
Aeris nodded. "Toward the Icebound Highlands. That's where the third realm fragment must be."
Suddenly, the air shifted.
From the open stairwell behind them, a soft voice echoed, slow and sweet like poison wrapped in silk:
"You're not supposed to be here… and yet, here you are."
They turned, weapons raised, as a figure stepped into view—tall, robed in shifting darkness, a mask of bone over his face.
His eyes were pits of void.
"Nytherion sends his regards," the figure said. "But he's quite busy preparing... the end."
Then he lifted his hand—and the chamber exploded in shadow.