Elorin stumbles through the swirling darkness, her mind a whirl of confusion as she's pulled into the void. The world around her shifts and spins, the sensation disorienting, like falling without an end. For a brief moment, she's weightless, suspended in a sea of shadows and swirling light, with no sense of direction or time.

Her fingers tighten around the relic in her hand, the only constant in the chaos. It pulses weakly, but the warmth gives her something to cling to. She breathes deeply, trying to steady herself as the swirling shadows shift and change around her, morphing into strange, unfamiliar shapes.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation of falling stops.

Elorin lands hard on solid ground, her knees buckling beneath her. She gasps, the wind knocked out of her lungs as the darkness recedes, replaced by a cold, dim light. The air around her is still and heavy, and as she struggles to her feet, she realizes she's no longer in the mountains, no longer in the forest.

She's somewhere else entirely.

Her eyes adjust to the low light, revealing an endless expanse of stone beneath her feet, stretching out into the distance. Massive pillars rise around her, reaching up toward a ceiling so high she can barely see it. The entire place is bathed in an eerie, unnatural glow, and the silence is oppressive, weighing down on her like a physical presence.

"Where am I?" she whispers, her voice barely audible in the vast emptiness.

The relic pulses weakly in her hand, but there's no response. Whatever magic had drawn her here, it's quiet now, as if waiting.

Elorin glances around, her heart racing as she takes in her surroundings. There's no sign of Rhylen, no sign of Varkos or the shadows that had pursued them. She's alone. The air here is cold, almost freezing, and every sound seems to echo endlessly in the space around her.

"Rhylen?" she calls out, her voice trembling slightly.

But there's no answer. Only the faint hum of ancient magic in the air, a low, constant presence that feels both familiar and unsettling.

Elorin's fingers tighten around the relic, her mind racing. She has no idea where she is or how she's supposed to find the key now, but the relic had led her here for a reason. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. She needs to move, to find something—anything—that will help her unlock the power of the relic and stop Varkos.

As she steps forward, her footsteps echo in the vast, empty space. The air grows colder the further she walks, and the silence presses in on her from all sides. Every now and then, she glances back, half expecting to see Varkos or the shadows lurking in the darkness, but there's nothing. Just the endless stone and the towering pillars.

The relic pulses again, slightly stronger this time, and Elorin feels a faint pull in her chest, guiding her forward. It's subtle, like a whisper at the back of her mind, urging her to keep going.

After what feels like hours of walking, she comes to a stop in front of a massive door, carved into the stone. The door is unlike anything she's ever seen—covered in intricate symbols and runes that glow faintly in the dim light. The relic pulses harder in her hand, reacting to the door's presence, and Elorin feels a strange connection between the two.

Stolen story; please report.

"This must be it," she whispers, stepping closer.

She reaches out, placing her free hand on the door. The stone is cold beneath her fingertips, but as she presses her palm against it, the symbols carved into the door begin to shift, glowing brighter as they rearrange themselves, just like the ones in the Ironhold.

The door groans, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates through the stone beneath her feet. Slowly, it begins to open, revealing a dark chamber beyond. A cold wind rushes out, carrying with it the scent of ancient magic and something darker—something more dangerous.

Elorin hesitates at the threshold, her heart racing. Every instinct tells her to turn back, to run, but she knows there's no turning back now. The relic's pulsing is stronger than ever, urging her forward.

Steeling herself, Elorin steps through the door and into the darkness beyond.

The chamber is vast, its walls lined with more of the glowing symbols that seem to pulse in time with the relic. At the center of the room stands a pedestal, much like the one in the Ironhold, but this one is different. Atop the pedestal rests an object—a small, intricately carved stone.

The second key.

Elorin's breath catches in her throat as she steps closer. This is what the relic has been leading her to—the next piece in unlocking its power.

As she reaches out toward the stone, the air around her shifts, and a voice echoes through the chamber, low and chilling.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Elorin freezes, her hand hovering just inches from the second key. She knows that voice.

Varkos.

Her heart pounds as she turns to see him standing in the doorway, his dark cloak billowing around him, the shadows at his feet shifting and writhing like living creatures. His glowing eyes lock onto her, filled with a cold, predatory hunger.

"You really thought you could escape me?" Varkos sneers, stepping forward. "The relic was never yours to keep. You've only delayed the inevitable."

Elorin's pulse races, her mind scrambling for a way out. She grips the relic tightly, feeling its warmth flood through her. She can feel the power building within it, but she still doesn't know how to control it, how to wield it against Varkos.

Varkos raises his hand, and the shadows surge forward, surrounding her like a dark tide. Elorin steps back, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The shadows close in, twisting and writhing, their pale eyes glowing with malice.

"I'm not afraid of you," Elorin says, her voice trembling but defiant.

Varkos smiles, a cold, cruel smile. "You should be."

With a flick of his hand, the shadows lunge toward her. Elorin raises the relic, its golden light flaring to life, but the shadows are faster. They slam into her with a force that knocks the wind from her lungs, and she stumbles back, the relic slipping from her grasp.

"Elorin!" Rhylen's voice echoes from the doorway.

Elorin gasps as Rhylen charges into the room, his sword gleaming in the dim light. He cuts through the shadows with precision, his blade moving like a blur as he fights his way toward her.

"Get the key!" Rhylen shouts, his voice strained as he fends off the dark figures. "Now!"

Elorin scrambles to her feet, her heart racing as she lunges for the pedestal. The shadows writhe around her, but Rhylen's presence buys her the time she needs. She grabs the second key from the pedestal, and the instant her fingers close around it, the room erupts in light.

The shadows scream, recoiling from the blinding glow. Varkos snarls, shielding his eyes as the light intensifies, filling the chamber with a power that shakes the very walls.

Elorin can feel the power surging through her, the second key merging with the relic in her other hand. The two pieces fit together seamlessly, their energies combining into something greater—something more dangerous.

Varkos takes a step back, his eyes narrowing as he stares at the glowing relic. "You think that will save you? You're a fool."

Elorin holds the relic out in front of her, the combined power coursing through her veins. For the first time since this began, she feels like she might have a chance.

"We're not done yet," she says, her voice steady, her eyes locked on Varkos. "This is just the beginning."