Chương 19: Riddles and Lies pt.2
Kyrntar was still glaring at Druvon, his hand gripping the sword hilt, when Vikra's exasperated gesture shifted the balance of the moment entirely. 'Boys, boys, enough' her body language seemed to say. She rolled her shoulders dramatically and scouted a bit further.
Kyrntar exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement tugging at his expression. "You're right," he muttered. "There's enough darkness here to deal with without bickering." Kyrntar's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, not from confidence but from the weight of his own uncertainty. Each step deeper into the temple brought Edric and Marra's faces to the forefront of his mind—haunted expressions, silently pleading. He swallowed hard, pushing the image away, but the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
Druvon stepped forward, his shadow looming larger as they descended deeper into the temple. "Hope is not a strategy, Paladin," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years of battle. "But it is better than fear."
Kyrntar nodded, though his heart still ached with worry. His fingers twitched on the sword hilt as if trying to grasp the strength Druvon spoke of.
As they rounded a corner, the flickering torchlight revealed a wide chamber ahead. The air was colder here, the oppressive darkness almost tangible, pressing against their skin. Kyrntar felt the ominous presence stronger than ever, and his hand instinctively went to his chest, brushing against his warden amulet.
Vikra flicks her dagger with a sharp motion, the metallic sound echoing through the temple's eerie silence. She doesn't need to speak—her actions have already proven her loyalty to the task at hand.
Kyrntar, still skeptical of his newfound companions, leads the way deeper into the temple. The air grows colder with each step, the faint light from their torches casting long shadows that seem to flicker unnaturally. The walls of the temple, once smooth stone, begin to show signs of decay—cracks that spiderweb across the surface, dark stains that suggest long-forgotten rituals, and strange symbols that seem to pulse with a faint glow.
Druvon walks silently beside him, his massive frame barely making a sound despite his bulk. Vikra, true to her nature, remains in the shadows, her sharp eyes flickering across every darkened corner, as though anticipating the worst. Though she doesn't speak, her movements are deliberate, and she remains close, her small stature easily lost in the gloom.
As they walk, Kyrntar feels a growing sense of unease. It's not just the cold or the eerie symbols that line the walls—it's something deeper, a gnawing presence that tugs at his mind, though he can't place it. His thoughts drift to Marra and Edric, still somewhere in the temple. He pushes the thought aside. He has to focus.
As the three venture further into the temple, the oppressive feeling intensifies. The walls almost seem to breathe, the symbols glowing faintly as if watching them. The air feels thick, and Kyrntar notices his breath coming out in shallow puffs, his heart beating just a bit faster. He glances at Druvon and Vikra, who appear unaffected, but the feeling that they're being watched grows.
Vikra moved ahead, her sharp eyes catching the slightest shift in the stone before them. In one swift motion, she darted back and gripped Kyrntar's arm, pulling him to a halt. Her gaze was locked on a section of the wall—one that seemed different, wrong. Her other hand pointed directly at it, her silent warning clear.
Kyrntar's brow furrowed as he followed her line of sight. The wall ahead shimmered faintly, the symbols carved into the stone glowing with an unsettling pulse, like the slow beat of a dying heart. He took a cautious step forward, but as he did, the ground trembled beneath them, a low rumble that reverberated through the stone walls of the temple. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"What is that?" Kyrntar muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His eyes narrowed, trying to decipher the strange energy radiating from the wall. It felt... alive.
Druvon stepped forward, his massive form steady as he approached the glowing symbols. His gaze was fixed, scanning the strange etchings as if trying to make sense of them. He raised a hand, stopping just short of touching the pulsating stone. The Loxodon's usual stoic demeanor seemed to waver for the briefest moment.
"We're not alone here," Druvon said, his deep voice carrying a weight of caution.
Kyrntar frowned, stepping beside him. "What do you see?" There was an edge to his voice, a hint of the worry that had been gnawing at him since they'd entered the temple. His mind was still on Edric and Marra, and the strange symbols only amplified his sense of urgency.
Druvon's gaze remained locked on the wall, his hand hovering in the air. "Nothing good," he muttered, his tone as solid and unyielding as the stone beneath them, yet there was a crack in the confidence that usually carried his words.
Vikra, as always, silent but ever vigilant, stepped forward and tapped Kyrntar on the shoulder. She gestured again toward the shifting symbols, her hand making a slow, exaggerated wave, mimicking the strange pulsing of the wall. Her eyes widened in mock curiosity, her beak slightly open as if she was daring the others to step closer. A wicked grin spread across her face, 'Go ahead, touch it, see what happens,' her expression seemed to taunt.
Kyrntar stepped closer, the whispers that had been faint before now growing louder, more insistent. It was as if the wall was calling to him, beckoning him to come closer, to listen. The sweat on the back of his neck stood on end, and a cold, metallic taste filled the air, leaving a bitter tang on his tongue.
"We need to figure out what this is," Kyrntar said, his voice firm but edged with the worry he tried to suppress. He looked over at Druvon, who remained still, his hand finally falling back to his side.
Druvon shook his head slowly. "This... is ancient magic. Cursed and dangerous. It's tied to the evil we're hunting, but I can't decipher its full meaning."
Vikra rolled her eyes, her shoulders lifting in a slight shrug, she waved her hand dramatically at the wall, then pointed at herself, tapping her chest twice and giving a quick, decisive nod. 'I'll handle this.'
Kyrntar raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small grin. "You're going to decipher an ancient curse? Without saying a word?"
Vikra's lips curled into a mocking smile, her eyes flicking between the shifting symbols and her companions, daring them to doubt her. With a flick of her wrist, she traced the outline of the wall's grooves, her body moving with a grace that suggested she was already five steps ahead of whatever lay beyond.
Druvon, ever stoic, stepped back slightly, his deep voice breaking the momentary silence. "Whatever lies beyond that wall is more dangerous than anything we've faced so far. We can't afford to be reckless."
"Then let's not waste time," he said, his voice firmer now, resolute. He looked at Vikra. "You've got a plan, or are you just trying to look smart?"
Vikra gave him a withering look, tapping her temple again, then pointed at the symbols. She gestured to the both of them as if to say, 'Let me handle this, you two are just going to make it worse.'
Kyrntar exhaled, glancing at Druvon. "Let's see what she's got," he muttered.
Druvon crossed his arms, watching with an impassive gaze. "If she gets us killed, Paladin, I'll be holding you responsible."
As Vikra approached the pulsating wall, her body tense and her daggers ready at her sides, the whispers grew louder, more frantic. The air seemed to thrum with dark energy, and whatever lay behind the wall felt closer than ever.
Kyrntar narrowed his eyes, stepping forward, trying to pierce the strange magic with his divine senses. His connection to the Dragon Warden flickered, grasping at the power within him to see past the illusion. But as he focused, the whispers grew sharper, louder, disorienting him. The symbols twisted under his gaze, their pulse speeding up as if they were mocking his attempts to understand. Sweat trickled down his brow, and a wave of nausea hit him, forcing him to stumble back.
"Something's not right…" Kyrntar's voice was strained as he took a steadying breath, trying to clear his mind. "There's a darkness here, but it's... it's clouded. I can't get through."
Vikra, ever watchful, melted into the shadows, her movements fluid and calculated. She didn't need words—her eyes did all the talking. She glanced at Kyrntar, raising an eyebrow. She moved along the wall, her fingertips barely grazing the cold stone as she searched for something hidden.
A faint groove caught her attention—a small, almost invisible line running along the base of the wall. With her usual silent grace, she knelt and followed the groove to a small panel embedded in the floor. She tapped it lightly, and the stone shifted ever so slightly under her touch. She shot a glance toward Druvon and Kyrntar, her expression clear: 'Found something.'
But as soon as Vikra uncovered the hidden mechanism, the whispers intensified, swelling into a cacophony that filled the chamber. The very air seemed to thicken with malice, pressing down on them like a suffocating fog. The temperature plummeted, and the walls seemed to close in around them, vibrating with an unseen force. Kyrntar's heart pounded in his chest as the once faint voices now swirled violently, a storm of sound that gnawed at his sanity.
Druvon, standing guard with his usual stoic presence, clenched his massive hand around the hilt of his weapon. Even his steely composure seemed tested under the weight of the dark magic swirling around them. "We're not alone," he rumbled, his deep voice cutting through the noise like a distant roll of thunder. He raised his shield, eyes scanning the room. "Something's coming."
As Druvon's deep voice echoed in the chamber, the ground beneath them shuddered violently, as though the very temple had awoken. The whispers grew louder still, their maddening chorus pulling at the edges of Kyrntar's mind. Suddenly, the floor beneath Vikra cracked, and with a sharp, deafening sound, the wall behind them began to shift—splitting open to reveal a darkness so absolute, it seemed to swallow the light.
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