The Second Mural: The Rise of the Thalassain Kingdom:

Higher up, as the murals ascended toward the midsection of the chamber, they began to depict the rise of the Thalassain Kingdom—the once-great civilization that had inhabited this land. These murals were far more detailed, and the transition from celestial beings to human forms was striking.

One panel showed human kings and queens standing proudly before a massive stone temple, a great sun-shaped symbol emblazoned across the entrance. The rulers were depicted in regal attire, their bodies elongated and exaggerated, emphasizing their divine status. In their hands, they held ceremonial objects—one king bore a sunstone, a stone that glowed faintly in the presence of light, and a queen held a crescent-shaped mirror that reflected the celestial bodies above.

Alongside the kings and queens, priests and priestesses were shown performing rituals in the open air, their arms raised to the sky in worship of the sun. The solar imagery here was impossible to ignore—small sun-shaped amulets adorned the figures, radiating light toward the divine forms. However, there was a marked change in the mood of these murals: where the earlier depictions of the gods had seemed harmonious, here there was a sense of imbalance. The people of Thalassa were reaching for the divine, but their attempts seemed imperfect, as though they were grasping at something beyond their reach.

One particularly striking mural showed the Thalassain high priests preparing a grand sacrifice, standing around a massive stone altar. Atop the altar was a symbol of the sun—a sunstone heart, pulsing with faint energy, surrounded by a ring of ceremonial candle jars, each containing a Wickwing butterfly trapped inside. The high priests' faces were obscured by the symbols of the sun, but their postures were reverent and solemn. This scene hinted at a darker side of the kingdom's solar worship: a ritualistic sacrifice, performed to ensure the continued favor of the sun god, and to bind the kingdom's prosperity to the celestial forces. There was a shadowy and mysterious energy around these rituals, as though the gods had begun to demand more in return for their blessings.

Kael stood in front of the mural, his eyes narrowing as he examined the intricate details of the figures. The kings and queens depicted on the stone seemed to shimmer with an unnatural quality. "These rulers..." he muttered, his voice low, "they didn’t look human anymore." He stepped closer, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "Their bodies, they're so elongated... almost alien. Like something's gone wrong."

Eamon, who had been studying the same scene, leaned in with an air of quiet contemplation. He tilted his head, squinting at the figures. "It’s like they were trying to elevate themselves, reach something divine. They wanted to become like gods, but the more I look at it, the more it feels wrong. Like they were mimicking the gods, trying to copy them rather than worship them." He shook his head slightly, disturbed by the implications. "It doesn’t sit right."

Balthazar pointed toward the stone temple etched into the wall. His voice was heavy, as though he was trying to connect the dots. "Look at that sun symbol on the temple. It’s central to everything. Almost as if they thought the entire kingdom revolved around it. Their lives, their culture—everything was built around that symbol."

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Elowen, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but it carried an air of certainty, like someone who had spent years unraveling a long-forgotten mystery. "That’s exactly it. This is the Thalassain Kingdom at its height, when they truly believed their rulers were gods. Look at how they’ve depicted themselves. Their bodies are stretched, exaggerated, their garments almost otherworldly. Everything about them screams that they believed they were the direct representatives of the sun god. The king’s sunstone wasn’t just an artifact. It was a symbol—a direct link between the rulers and the divine. It was said to glow faintly in the light, a constant reminder of their connection to the sun."

Kael shifted his gaze from the rulers to the priests and priestesses in the mural. A sense of unease settled over him as he traced their forms. "And those rituals? What’s with the butterflies? And the altar... it looks... wrong."

Elowen’s eyes lingered on the scene, her expression thoughtful, but there was something darker in her gaze now. "The rituals were part of their core belief system—solar worship. But this... this is where things began to take a darker turn. The high priests weren’t just performing rituals; they were preparing for a sacrifice." She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "They offered something precious to the sun god to ensure the kingdom’s prosperity. See the sunstone heart on the altar? It wasn’t just symbolic. It was powerful, almost like the very heart of the sun god itself. And the butterflies—they weren’t just decoration. The Wickwing butterflies were known for their delicate nature. They symbolized life, death, transformation... and the sacrifice of something beautiful for a greater purpose."

Balthazar frowned, his gaze flicking between the altar and Elowen. His voice was tight with disbelief. "They were willing to sacrifice living creatures for the favor of their gods?"

Elowen nodded slowly, her eyes darkening with a somber understanding. "Yes. But it didn’t stop there. Look closely. The faces of the priests are obscured by sun symbols. They were no longer individuals. They had become instruments of the sun's will. They weren’t human anymore, not truly. The entire scene feels oppressive, like the kingdom had surrendered itself completely to their worship. The gods weren’t just offering blessings anymore—they were demanding more. And the people... the people were paying a terrible price."

Kael felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the figures. It was as though the murals had come alive, pulling him into their dark story. He glanced at Eamon, then back at Elowen. "Do you think the people of Thalassa knew what they were paying? The price they were giving to the gods?"

Elowen exhaled deeply, her eyes searching the walls as if looking for an answer she already knew. Her voice was quieter now, almost mournful. "I’m not sure. But as we move through these murals, it feels more and more like they were trapped. The rulers, the priests—they thought they were in control, that they could manipulate the gods to their will. But the more they gave, the more the gods took. It’s a dangerous game, trying to bind yourself to celestial forces. Thinking you can control them. The Thalassain Kingdom believed they were elevating themselves, but in reality, they were sinking deeper and deeper into a pact they couldn’t escape."

Balthazar’s expression grew tense, his jaw tight. His voice trembled slightly with the weight of what they were uncovering. "And what happened when the gods took more than they gave back? When the price became too high? The kingdom was doomed, wasn’t it?" He said as read the rhyme etched into the stone:

_"Rulers arose in the light's steady glow,

The heart of the kingdom, in radiance did grow.

But in shadows they lingered, and shadows did show,

As the golems' cold eyes began to bestow."_

The words hung in the air like a warning, their meaning deep and cryptic, as if the very stone itself carried the weight of the kingdom's fate.

Elowen’s gaze moved toward the next set of murals, her eyes dark with the knowledge of what was to come. She didn’t answer immediately, but her silence spoke volumes. Finally, she whispered, her voice heavy with the burden of history. "It was inevitable. This... this was where the rot began. Right here, in this very moment. The kingdom thought they were ascending, but in truth, they were already falling."