The light faded slowly, leaving only the echo of its brilliance in the air. Dust drifted through the vast chamber like snow, settling on shattered fragments of crystal and scorched stone.The group lay scattered across the floor, groaning as they tried to rise. The scent of burnt air and ozone hung thick.Lyra was the first to move. “Eryndor?” Her voice cracked as she crawled toward the platform.He was standing perfectly still — too still — in the centre of the room, the faint glow beneath his skin pulsing with each beat of his heart. His eyes shimmered with silver light, but there was something else in them now: a depth that hadn’t been there before.“Eryndor,” she said again, reaching out to him. “Can you hear me?”He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto hers. “I can hear you.” His voice sounded different — layered, like two voices speaking in unison.Zephyr froze. “Gods… what happened to you?”Eryndor blinked, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly. “The Heart… it merged with me. T

The moment the shadows surged through the temple doors, the world erupted into chaos Eryndor thrust his hand forward, the Voice flaring from his palm in a beam of pale light. The wave struck the first wave of dark forms, sending them shrieking into dust. But more came — dozens, maybe hundreds — shapes without faces, armoured in smoke and fire. Lyra loosed a volley of arrows that blazed with blue runes, each one striking its mark. “They just keep coming!” Zephyr’s winds roared down the hall, whipping up a vortex that sent fragments of crystal spinning. “Hold the centre! Don’t let them surround us!” Thorne’s battle cry shook the chamber as his blade cut through two shadowed figures in one swing. “I’ll hold the line!” The air trembled under the clash of light and darkness. For every creature that fell, another rose from the ground, birthed by the shadows themselves. The temple groaned, ancient magic stirring in protest. Eryndor could feel the pull again — that voice within, callin

The Hollow Throne was closer now — so close that it seemed to devour the horizon.Its dark spires rose like the ribs of a long-dead god, etched with veins of crimson light that pulsed in rhythm with the ground beneath their feet.The air grew thinner as they climbed, filled with the faint taste of metal and something older — something watching.Eryndor led the way, the crystal key around his neck glowing brighter with every step. The path was steep and fractured, a narrow stairway of stone that twisted upward into mist.No one spoke for a long while. Words felt dangerous here. Even the sound of their breath seemed to echo too loudly, bouncing off the cliffs as if the mountain itself were listening.Finally, Zephyr broke the silence. “We’re walking into the heart of something alive,” he said softly.“It’s not alive,” Lirien replied, her voice strained from the climb. “It’s remembering.”Thorne glanced at her. “Remembering what?”She didn’t answer.---They stopped at a plateau halfway

The first light of morning broke across the shattered peaks of the Hollow Throne.Mist curled through the air like drifting souls. The wind, once screaming with the power of the storm, was silent — reverent, almost afraid to stir.Lyra stirred first. Her eyes opened to a sky painted gold and crimson, the kind of light that felt wrong after so much darkness. Her limbs trembled as she pushed herself upright, the stone beneath her hands still warm with lingering energy.She looked around, panic building.“Eryndor?”Her voice cracked in the stillness.No answer.Only the soft hum of magic dissipating into the air — the residue of something immense and final.---One by one, the others awoke.Zephyr groaned, clutching his head as though thunder still rang inside his skull. Thorne coughed, pushing debris off his armour. Aria knelt immediately, hands pressed to the earth, her fingers glowing faint green as she felt the pulse of life beneath the ground.“It’s changed,” she whispered. “The ley

Lyra stood alone.The silence of the Temple pressed against her skin like cold glass. All around her, mirrors shimmered with faint blue light — not reflections, but possibilities.Each mirror showed a different version of her: some brave, others broken. Some stood triumphant, wielding light like a blade; others lay lifeless, consumed by darkness.And then there was one — one reflection that stared back with chilling familiarity. It was her, and yet… not.The mirrored Lyra smiled, tilting her head slightly. “You made it,” she said, her voice echoing softly through the chamber.Lyra took a cautious step forward. “What are you?”The reflection chuckled. “I’m you. Or at least… the part you keep pretending doesn’t exist.”Lyra’s heart pounded. “The Echo,” she whispered.The reflection’s smile widened. “You’re catching on.”---Far above, the others were not so lucky.Aria and Zephyr had landed in a separate corridor, one that spiralled downward in a maze of cracked stone and ancient runes.