The altar loomed before them, bathed in the eerie glow of Morgana's staff. Elara's heart pounded as her eyes locked onto the relic—an ancient stone tablet, covered in jagged, arcane symbols that pulsed with dark energy. The whispers it emitted were faint, but unmistakable, like a thousand voices murmuring just beyond the edge of hearing.
"Elara, do you feel that?" Morgana's voice was tense, her grip tightening on her staff. "This relic… it's alive with power. But something's wrong."
Elara stepped closer to the altar, her sword still drawn, the weight of the relic's energy pressing against her chest like a physical force. "It's been waiting," she said softly, more to herself than to Morgana. "Waiting for someone to find it."