The forest breathed shallowly as Kiaran and Eira stepped through dense foliage, the crunching of their footsteps beneath the underbrush until reaching the heart of the wilderness. There, where shadow lay heavy upon the temple, ancient stone lay hidden beneath a tangle of gnarled vines and creeping moss. Its form was swallowed nearly by the forest, the structure a remnant of an age that had crumbled to dust. Even the wind seemed to fade to nothing before her, his breath no more than a ghostly echo of whispers passing on the breeze.

Eira shivered almost of itself, folding the cloak closer about her. "We shouldn't be here, Kiaran. Such places hold no blessing but curses and death."

Kiaran's jaw closed over his words, and his face assumed an unyielding set of lines. "If there is the smallest hope that this place contains answers, then I must stay. Lysander's life hangs in the balance. Perhaps ours do as well." He gazed at the relic. Pale blue light bled from it, leaking into the cloth that lined the pocket of his belt pouch, as if it felt also the after impact in the temple walls.

Reluctantly, Eira followed as Kiaran pushed open the cracked stone doors, its groan filling the air with a sound like a dying breath. Inside, the air grew cold, biting through their clothes with an unnatural chill. The temple's interior was a ruin of crumbling pillars and broken altars, all shrouded in shadows that seemed to move on their own.

As she moved back into the tunnel, Eira ran her hand along the murals on the walls. Ancient work, it must be, because it told a tale nearly too awful to understand: figures on their knees before an enormous shadow, faces all strained with awe and terror. The murals seemed to twist about her as she looked at them, and the shadows within twisted, fighting to get free of the stone that confined them.

This place. It's older than any kingdom we know. It worshipped a god of shadow," she breathed, her voice tight with unease. And it looks like they tried to bind that power into something. Maybe even. into a relic like yours.".

Kiaran looked around by the faint light. He caught a view of pieces of metal shining through the rubble. He covered and swept at the dust, and he saw a small altar beneath, his cover was covered in ancient runes, the script curling round the surface like a serpent. Between the rubble, he caught a glimpse of a torn scroll, brittle and fragile with age. Symbols carved on the scroll had the same one upon his relic.

They tried to trap it," Kiaran whispered, deciphering the half-broken script. "They imprisoned the power of their god, but the cost. it was their very civilization. Their lives, their memories—gone. All for a chance at sealing this darkness in there.

Eira cast a frowning glance over his shoulder. "And now darkness is in you, Kiaran. We'll need to be careful not to let it devour us as it devoured them.".

Just before he could push the whole thing forward, a shift in the air was like a prickling feeling down his spine. And he saw her-or at least, a figure emerging from the shadows-an enough veiled guardian spirit bound to the temple, wreathed in mist and broken chains, its upper form hovering above the stone floor. Her face was hidden beneath her hood, but the skeletal shape of her hands seemed outlined by a faint glow.

"Defilers," the watch muttered, its voice like the crunch of bone. "You bear the taint of the accursed with you. Begone, lest you be consumed by the darkness that took those others."

Kiaran drew his sword and felt the weight of the relic against him. Whispers bloomed in his mind, encouraging him to use its power. He shook away their murmurings; danger loomed ahead. "We are not leaving without answers. What is this power, and how can we break its hold?"

The head of the guardian tilted as if weighing their resolve. And then it spoke in a voice that reverberated within the hollow chamber, speaking of the dark deity—a being that would spread its influence through relics such as the one which Kiaran now bore. It revealed that the relic was a fragment of the deity's essence, a shard of its eternal hunger. Severing its hold would require sacrifice: a part of oneself that could never be reclaimed.

"You have been sealed by the shadows," the guardian declared, its voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Now prove that you can face what's going on inside, or it will consume you, just like it has consumed so many."

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Suddenly the shadows surged, an abyss of black swallowing Kiaran and Eira whole. Within that darkness, walls in Kiaran's mind fell open as visions flared before him like jagged shards of a broken mirror. He saw his past: his father's cold dismissal, sneers of those who regarded him as weak and worthless. He saw the faces of the fallen- friends he'd failed to protect, each one a wound, never quite healed.

The whispers of the relic grew louder and fuller of promise: strength, power beyond measure-if he merely let it guide his hand. The visions twisted, showing him as a conqueror standing atop the corpses of those who had wronged him, the world kneeling at his feet. Oh, the sheer thrill of power thundering through his veins, intoxicating in its very existence.

But then came a vision of Eira, her face contorted in anguish, turning away from him as darkness enveloped her as well. That image is what broke through the fog of temptation for Kiaran, reminding him of the person he wanted to become-not a tyrant, but one who would protect those he cared for.

No, he snarled, pushing the whispers back into the darkness. He reached out, grappling for the threads of reality, and pulled himself free from the visions. The darkness recoiled, and the guardian's form wavered at his resistance.

Eira, too, fought her own visions-of a lifetime of failure, her magic sowing pain instead of healing. But it fed on Kiaran's resolve; together, their bond steadied her in the shadows. Together, they broke free of the guardian's test, charging forward with a renewed spirit to face the spirit.

The guardian flailed in its rage, chains cracking through the air like the tails of black dragons. Kiaran stepped forward, meeting the spectral chains and his sword ringing against them with each impact forcing the vibrations up his arm. Eira funneled what little magic was left into a barrier, clinging desperately as the spirit tried to crush them under the weight of centuries.

Kiaran set his teeth, letting the relic throb against his side. Its energy rushed unsummoned into his veins, multiplying his own strength. He ran all the harder, cutting a path through the chains, driving his sword into the guardian's etheric shape. The spirit shrieked, its form unwinding as light seared through its darkness.

As the sentinel disintegrated into dust, it hissed out a final warning. "The shadows cannot be defeated. only delayed. Beware the one who wears a friendly face, for betrayal lies closer than you think. The road to salvation will claim a terrible price.".

Kiaran stumbled, clutching at his side where a deep gash bled free. Eira ran to his side and pushed her hand against the wound, her magic knitting the tore flesh back together again. Her face was pale, and he could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Thanks," he whispered, feeling the weight of what they had learned settle over him like a shroud. The words of the guardian drummed in his head, a promise of further danger.

As the guardian who'd been beaten fell, the temple shifted, revealing the hidden chamber below the altar. Ancient scrolls, wrapped in decaying leather, lay there and artifacts that pulsed with some power-that now felt both familiar and strange. Kiaran's hand hovered above the scrolls as he caught his breath, taking a great gulp of air as he began to read words that covered the surface of the scrolls.

"Here. It speaks of sanctuary—a sanctuary in which the dark power could be confined, shut down before it could take hold," he said, holding out the worn map sketched on parchment for Eira to see. "This might be our answer."

Eira's brow furrowed as she studied the map. Her fingers were tracing the path to the sanctuary when she spoke in a low voice. "But it speaks also of a betrayal. something we can't foresee. We have to be cautious, Kiaran. Whoever the guardian spoke of may already be watching us.".

He nodded, the existence of that relic stuck in his pocket, its whispers quieter but still there, lurking at the fringes of his thoughts. He could see that their adventure was far from over, and the darkness that would greet them waiting up ahead was so much more sinister than the shadows they had faced here.

Camped outside the ruins of the temple, Kiaran lay that night thinking of a world devoured by shadow. Before that darkness stood Lysander, his eyes blazing with a sickly light such as marked the creature in the ruins. And as he reached out to Eira's silhouette, turned away from him, she disappeared into nothingness beyond the reach of his outstretched hand.

Kiaran woke with a jolt, feeling night air cold on his skin. The weight of the dream was heavy still, the dread made all the more apt to cling, to hold onto him like a second skin. He cast a look at Eira, sleeping fitfully. Worry line etched her face, even in sleep.

He knew their path wouldn't get safer but rather more treacherous, with shadows where every step was. However, he knew he did not walk alone. And as the relic throbbed faintly in his pocket, he prepared himself for whatever to come, ready to face the darkness head-on at least partially because of the new relation with his companion.

Behind them, the temple loomed in all its secrets and warnings.

Under stone, but its shadows seemed to follow as they continued their journey through the forest-toward the sanctuary that might hold their last hope, and the price they would have to pay for the power they sought to wield.