The cold voice echoed through the vast, shadowy hall, its words hanging in the air like a curse. Elara stood at the threshold of the Citadel, her breath shallow as the weight of the Abyss pressed down on her, thick and suffocating. The dark stone walls, once a haven of ancient knowledge, now seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, as if the Abyss had sunk its claws deep into the foundation of the Citadel itself.
Kael and Morgana flanked her, their weapons ready, but the fear in their eyes was unmistakable. The voice—they all felt its power, its promise of destruction, a force that had been growing since the first whisperings of the Abyss had crept into their world.
"This place... it's alive with darkness," Morgana whispered, her grip tightening around her staff. "It's like the Citadel itself has turned against us."
Elara nodded, her heart pounding. "The Abyss has twisted the magic here. Everything we thought we knew about this place, it's been corrupted."