“I never thought I’d be here, doing this,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought the temple was sacred, a place of light and peace.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent reassurance. “Sometimes, even the brightest places hold the darkest secrets.”
She nodded, a faint sadness in her gaze, before pressing her hand against the stone wall. The hidden entrance slid open with a low, rumbling sound, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled downward into darkness.
We descended in silence, the air growing colder with each step, the walls damp and lined with veins of ancient magic that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow.
The further we went, the more the light faded, until we were shrouded in shadows, the only sound the soft echo of our footsteps.
The stairwell coiled downward like a serpent, swallowing us whole. Each step echoed with a hollow clang that seemed too loud in the suffocating silence.
The air thickened the deeper we went, damp and metallic, the scent of blood woven into every breath. My shadows recoiled, uneasy, as though even they knew this was no place for life.
Elena’s glow lit the walls, revealing veins of magic etched into the stone. They pulsed faintly, not with warmth, but with a cold, alien rhythm. I had seen blood wards before, but these—these were soaked in something darker.
She glanced back at me, her eyes catching the faint light. “These wards… they feel wrong.”
“They are wrong,” I said flatly. “This isn’t just protection. This is imprisonment. And sacrifice.”
Her jaw clenched, her hand brushing the wall as if she could absorb its truth through her skin. “I cast blessings here. I thought they kept us safe.”
“And the Elders used them to feed their secrets.”
Silence stretched, heavy as the darkness pressing in. I wanted to tell her not to blame herself, but the words felt useless. She carried her guilt like armor—unshakable, unyielding.
The stairwell disgorged us at last into a cavern that felt older than the city above it. The air was thick, heavy, oppressive, as though it had been trapped here for centuries and curdled into something unclean. The torchlight did not burn warm or golden, but cold and bluish, each flame flickering as if reluctant to exist.
The chamber stretched wide before us. Its floor was lined with slabs—stone beds etched with runes that gleamed faintly, their grooves dark with dried stains that needed no explanation. The stench of copper, of blood both old and fresh, clung to everything.
At the chamber’s heart stood an altar carved from black basalt, its edges sharp enough to cut. A chalice rested upon it, brimming with thick crimson. Even from where I stood, I could smell it—fresh blood, rich and metallic, its surface rippling faintly as though stirred by an unseen hand.
And around it, hooded figures circled. Their robes were deep red, stained darker at the hems, their hands raised as they chanted in voices so low and guttural they seemed dredged up from beneath the earth itself. The sound wormed into the bones, vibrating in the chest like a second, corrupted heartbeat.
Elena stiffened at my side. I could feel the fury radiating off her in waves, her golden aura flaring, and when she steppedforward, her voice rang like a blade cutting through the filth.
“Stop this, now.”
The chanting faltered, stuttered. One by one, the figures turned. Hoods shadowed their faces, but I glimpsed the gleam of eyes, some too bright, some too dull, all of them wrong. The air shifted, tightening as though the chamber itself recognized us as intruders.
One of them broke away from the circle, stepping forward with a serpentine ease. His hood tilted back just enough for me to see a sliver of a smile—sharp, cruel. His voice was a mockery of warmth.
“Well, well. The High Priestess herself, come to grace us with her presence.”
I stepped into place beside her, my shadows curling upward like smoke, thick and ready, tasting the wrongness of the magic here. My voice was low, dangerous.
“And the Shadow King,” I said. “Here to make sure you don’t leave this place alive.”
A ripple passed through the cultists, not fear, but acknowledgment. They knew me. And they did not scatter. Instead, their hands twitched, their sleeves falling back to reveal glimmers of green sigils etched into their skin, glowing faintly.
Elena glanced at me. “Together?” she whispered.
I gave a sharp nod, my shadows wrapping protectively around her as I hissed, “Together.”
And then it broke.
The first lunge came from the side—a blur of motion, a blade wreathed in green light arcing toward Elena. My instincts screamed.
“Elena—down!” I snarled, yanking her back. My arm shot out, shadows hardening into a spear that intercepted the blow with a crash of sparks. The blade hissed against the darkness, the green glow searing through my magic.
