Chapitre 4: Temple of Fallen Oaths pt.2
The temple loomed ahead of them, its once-grand entrance now reduced to crumbling stone. Symbols of a forgotten order adorned the walls, their meanings lost to time, worn smooth by years of weathering. As they stepped inside, the cold air intensified, as if the temple itself was exhaling, wrapping its ancient chill around them.
The light from their torches flickered against the stone floor, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance along the walls. The darkness within was thick, nearly suffocating, and every drip of water echoed through the halls like the beating of a distant drum. The unsettling silence pressed in, broken only by the sound of their cautious footsteps.
Edric, never one to stay quiet for long, spoke again. "This doesn't feel right," he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "There's nothing here, but it feels…wrong."
Marra shot Edric a teasing look, though her expression betrayed her own unease. "Scared of a few shadows, Edric?" she asked, nudging him lightly. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."
Edric grinned, despite the tension, his tone taking on a playful lilt. "I appreciate it, Marra. But we'll be safe long as we stay with the big guy."
Kyrntar rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "Someone has to keep you safe, considering you can barely lift your sword."
Kyrntar smirked to himself, glad for the brief levity between them, even as a strange sense of dread crept up his spine. Despite their banter, the weight of the temple was undeniable, and Kyrntar knew Edric wasn't wrong. There was something here—something unseen, something waiting.
"Keep moving," Kyrntar ordered, though his voice remained calm. He turned his attention to the path ahead, unwilling to let the unease distract him. "We'll check the altar room first. Stay close."
They moved deeper into the temple, the walls closing in as the narrow corridor led them toward the heart of the ancient structure. The sound of dripping water continued, each echoing drop adding to the tension that hung in the air like a blade poised to fall.
As they approached the temple's main hall, the atmosphere shifted again. It was darker here, the shadows deeper, the cold biting. Kyrntar's torch flickered, the flame dimming as though the darkness was swallowing it whole.
"Edric, hold the light higher," Kyrntar said, his eyes fixed on the door to the altar room ahead.
Edric raised his torch, casting a faint glow over the stone altar that dominated the center of the chamber. The room was eerily silent, the oppressive stillness pressing down on them. Kyrntar could feel it now—a presence, something ancient and malevolent lurking just beyond their sight.
Marra stepped closer to Kyrntar, her eyes scanning the room warily. "What do you think we'll find in there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Kyrntar admitted, his grip tightening on his sword. "But we're about to find out."
Before they could take another step, a faint sound echoed through the room—a whisper, soft and indistinct, like a voice carried on the wind. Kyrntar froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He exchanged a glance with Edric and Marra, both of whom had gone still, their eyes wide with alarm.
"Did you hear that?" Edric asked, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might draw the unseen closer.
Kyrntar nodded, his pulse quickening. "I did."
They stood there for a long moment, the silence heavy with anticipation. Then, without warning, the air grew colder, the whisper turning into a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver down Kyrntar's spine. He could feel it now—the presence, no longer distant but near, watching them.
"We're not alone," Marra breathed, her hand trembling as it hovered near the hilt of her sword.
Kyrntar squared his shoulders, determination hardening his resolve. "Stay together. Whatever this is, we face it as one."
He took a step toward the altar, his breath visible in the freezing air, the weight of the temple's dark history pressing down on him. As they ventured further into the darkness, Kyrntar couldn't shake the feeling that their mission was no longer just about investigating strange disturbances.
Something far more sinister had awakened, and it was waiting for them in the shadows.
As they ventured deeper into the temple, the chill in the air intensified, biting through their armor and clinging to their skin like an unwelcome specter. The dim light of their torches flickered across the walls, illuminating strange, jagged markings—symbols hastily scratched into the stone long after the temple had been abandoned. Kyrntar studied them as they passed, the sense of dread growing stronger with every step. The marks were chaotic, desperate, as if left by someone fleeing something far worse.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone