Volume 3 — Chapter 15: Descent into the Abyss
The obsidian staircase vibrated beneath Lyriana and Aryn's feet as they rushed downward. The mountain groaned, pulsing with unstable magic. The council's ritual had begun—and every second tightened the grip of danger.
A faint, rhythmic hum echoed through the cavern, a sound that felt more like a heartbeat than a spell.
Aryn frowned. "They're channeling the relic's energy remotely. If they complete the ritual, they'll corrupt it—and the Moonstone with it."
Lyriana tightened her grip on his hand. "Then we stop them before the corruption spreads."
Elion's voice crackled faintly through a magical link.
"The ritual is drawing power from every relic you've gathered. If the final relic falls, the council will control all four. You must reach it before they do—no matter the cost."
The staircase opened into a colossal chamber lit by streams of molten light flowing through cracks in the stone. At its center stood an ancient pedestal carved with spirals of obsidian and moonlight—its top glowing with a blinding white energy.
But between them and the pedestal, a vortex of shadow and fire churned violently.
Aryn's eyes widened. "They've weaponized the ritual. That vortex is meant to tear apart anyone not bound to the relic."
Lyriana stepped forward anyway. "Then it's meant to tear apart anyone who doubts. We do not."
The vortex roared, lashing out with tendrils of shadow. One struck the ground at Aryn's feet, shattering stone. Another whipped toward Lyriana, but Aryn flung a barrier around her, Moonstone energy blooming like a shield.
"Together," she reminded him.
He nodded. "Always."
Moving in unison, they approached the vortex. Lyriana summoned the Violet Relic's energy, shaping it into bands of shimmering light that pulled at the shadows. Aryn invoked the Emerald Relic, sensing hidden paths of energy within the storm.
Their powers intertwined, forming a bridge through the chaos.
But halfway across, the vortex reacted violently, the council intensifying their ritual. The chamber shook. The bridge faltered.
Aryn staggered. "They're targeting me—trying to break our connection!"
Lyriana grasped his arm. "They can't break what they don't understand."
Pushing forward, she poured every ounce of trust and love into the Moonstone. The gem erupted in radiant white-blue light, stabilizing their path.
The vortex shrieked, collapsing inward as they broke through.
At last, they reached the pedestal.
And there it was—the Final Relic, a crystalline shard of obsidian and moonlight fused together, pulsing like a living heart.
But before Lyriana could touch it, a voice slithered through the chamber:
"Step back from the relic, or watch your rebellion burn."
From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in council sigils, eyes glowing with corrupted magic—
the one who had been observing them from afar.
Lyriana's breath caught. Aryn's grip tightened.
The council's greatest weapon had arrived in person.
And the final trial was about to begin.