Panic set in immediately. One moment, Lysandra was standing before them, and in the next, she was swallowed by the abyss, disappearing into the shadows like a fleeting mirage. Eryx’s heart pounded in his chest as he lunged toward the spot where she had been, but the shadows had closed around her, leaving no trace.
“No!” Eryx shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. He slammed his fist against the altar, his frustration palpable. “She was right here!”
Astrid rushed forward, her staff glowing faintly in the oppressive darkness, but it did little to penetrate the thick veil of shadows. “Something in this temple has claimed her,” she said, her voice grim. “We must be cautious, or we’ll all fall victim to the same force.”
“Where could she have gone?” Celeste asked, scanning the room nervously. “It’s like she just… vanished.”
“The shadows took her,” Astrid replied softly, her brow furrowed in concentration. “But this isn’t an ordinary darkness. It’s alive, and it’s hungry.”
Eryx ground his teeth, his frustration threatening to boil over. “We can’t just leave her. We’ve got to find a way to get her back!”
“We will,” Astrid assured him, though her tone carried uncertainty. “But rushing into this blindly could be a death sentence. We need to figure out how these shadows work, what they want.”
Eryx nodded, though the weight of Lysandra’s sudden absence pressed down on him. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing frozen at the altar, as if something had bewitched her, drawn her in. What was this place, and what dark power did it hold?
The whispers had stopped, leaving only the unnerving silence in their wake. It was as though the temple itself was watching them, waiting for their next move.
Astrid knelt by the altar, studying the glowing glyphs etched into the stone. Her fingers traced the lines carefully, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “These symbols are ancient,” she murmured, more to herself than the others. “Older than anything I’ve seen. This temple might be connected to a power that predates the kingdoms.”
Celeste stood beside her, still scanning the room nervously. “Do you think this has something to do with the relic we’re after?”
Astrid’s eyes flickered up to meet hers. “It’s possible. The relic could be tied to the magic in this place—something powerful enough to manipulate shadows, to control minds. We need to be careful. There are forces at play here that we don’t fully understand.”
Eryx clenched his fists. “Lysandra didn’t just disappear. She’s still here, somewhere. We’ll find her.”
Astrid nodded, though her expression remained grave. “We need to think this through carefully. The shadows in this temple are alive—sentient, even. They’re feeding on something, and I’m afraid they’ve taken Lysandra as part of that.”
Celeste, her voice trembling slightly, spoke up. “If they’ve taken her, then… what do they want from her? What do they want from us?”
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Suddenly, a deep, resonating voice filled the chamber, echoing from every direction at once.
“They want your souls.”
The group tensed, eyes widening in alarm. Eryx spun around, his sword raised, searching for the source of the voice. But all he could see was darkness.
“Who’s there?!” he demanded, his voice firm.
A chuckle echoed through the chamber, low and sinister. “You’ve come seeking the relic, haven’t you? So many have before you. So many have fallen prey to the shadows. You’ll be no different.”
Eryx tightened his grip on his sword, standing his ground. “We’re not like the others.”
The voice laughed again, its tone mocking. “Oh, but you are. You’ve already lost one of your own. The shadows have her now. Soon, they will have all of you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Eryx growled. He shot a glance at Astrid and Celeste, signaling them to prepare for whatever was coming next.
Astrid raised her staff, its faint glow growing stronger as she channeled her magic. “We won’t let you take us without a fight.”
“Oh, I’m not the one you need to fight,” the voice purred. “The shadows will do that for me.”
As the words faded, the darkness around them seemed to pulse, growing thicker, more tangible. It slithered along the walls, creeping toward them like a living entity. Eryx could feel it pressing against him, suffocating, like it was trying to worm its way into his mind.
Astrid quickly began casting protective wards, the light from her staff flaring brighter as she fought against the encroaching darkness. “Stay close!” she ordered. “The shadows are trying to separate us again. We can’t let them!”
Celeste moved closer to Eryx, her bow drawn, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “What do we do?”
“We find Lysandra,” Eryx said through gritted teeth. “And we get out of here.”
But before they could move, the shadows surged forward, swirling around them like a storm. The air grew cold, and the oppressive presence of the darkness weighed down on them, pushing them apart.
Eryx fought to stay by Astrid’s side, but the force was too strong. The shadows tugged at him, dragging him away from the others. He could hear Celeste calling out, her voice growing fainter as the darkness swallowed them.
“Astrid! Celeste!” he shouted, his voice barely audible in the storm of shadows.
He struggled, his sword slashing through the darkness, but it felt like fighting air—every strike passed through without resistance. The whispers returned, louder now, drowning out everything else.
“You will never leave.”
Eryx’s vision blurred as the darkness pressed in on him, threatening to overtake his mind. He could feel it clawing at his thoughts, trying to twist them, to control him. But he wouldn’t give in. Not now.
With a roar of defiance, he surged forward, using all his strength to push through the storm. The darkness clawed at him, pulling him back, but he kept moving, his eyes fixed on a faint light in the distance.
It was the altar—the only source of light in the room. And standing near it, barely visible through the shadows, was Lysandra.
She was still there. Still alive.
“Lysandra!” Eryx shouted, forcing himself to move faster, cutting through the shadows with every step.
But as he neared the altar, he realized something was wrong.
Lysandra wasn’t moving. She was standing perfectly still, her eyes vacant, as if in a trance. And the shadows around her weren’t attacking—they were swirling protectively, as if guarding her.
Eryx’s heart sank. Whatever had taken hold of her, it wasn’t going to let go easily.
“Astrid!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “I found her!”
But before he could get any closer, the shadows surged up between him and Lysandra, forming a solid wall of darkness. He could feel the malevolent energy radiating from it, a force so strong it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
The voice returned, more sinister than before.
“She is ours now. And soon, you will be too.”
