The temple loomed ahead, its spires clawing at a sulfurous sky. What once might have been ivory stone was now mottled with black rot, the carvings on its walls eroded into skeletal reliefs. The air reeked of decay—not of flesh, but of magic gone stagnant. The priestess leaned heavily on Alex, her breath labored. Blood from her temple had dried into a brittle mask, but her eyes remained sharp, scanning the crumbling archway ahead.
"The wards," she muttered, pointing to glyphs flickering faintly along the threshold. They pulsed like dying fireflies, their golden light smothered by tendrils of violet mist. "They're compromised. Move quickly."
Alex's scar twitched as they crossed into the temple's shadow. A cold whisper threaded through his mind: You belong here. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the uneven flagstones beneath his feet. The mist thickened, coiling around his legs, but recoiled as the priestess raised her dagger. Its dim glow carved a fragile path through the gloom.
Inside, the temple was a carcass. Pillars leaned precariously, their surfaces webbed with cracks that glowed the same sickly violet as the valley below. Murals depicting robed figures sealing away a cyclopean abyss were half-scoured away, as if the stone itself had been clawed at. The priestess paused before one, her fingers brushing the eroded face of a woman holding a dagger—her dagger.
"The Order of the Last Light," she said, voice hollow. "They bound the Devourer's eye here millennia ago. Now their legacy is… this." She spat, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. "Hubris. They thought their wards eternal."
Alex's scar flared suddenly, a white-hot brand. He staggered, vision swimming. For a heartbeat, the rot peeled away—the temple restored, radiant. A chorus of voices chanted, their words harmonizing with the scar's pulse. Then the vision shattered.
You see? the scar purred. You are kin.
"No," Alex growled aloud, shaking his head. The priestess shot him a wary glance but said nothing. She was already moving toward a stairwell spiraling downward, its entrance choked with rubble.
They cleared the stones in silence. The descent was tight, the walls pressing close, alive with the Devourer's whispers. The scar writhed, tendrils of light spreading like cracks across Alex's chest. By the time they reached the lower chamber, his breath came in shallow gasps.
The room was small, circular—a sanctum. At its center stood a stone plinth, etched with concentric circles. Above it hovered a shard of crystalline light, though its glow was dimmed, corrupted by a single thread of violet.
The priestess inhaled sharply. "A soul anchor. This is how the Order bound their power to the wards." She approached, her reflection fracturing in the shard's facets. "And here's your truth, Alex."
She gestured to the plinth's carvings. Figures knelt before the anchor, their bodies breaking apart into glowing fragments. Alex's scar throbbed in unison with the shard.
"To wield a key," the priestess said quietly, "you must become it. The Order's devotees split their souls, fusing them to the wards. But your scar…" She turned, her gaze piercing. "It's not a single shard. The Devourer didn't mark you. It re-made you. A mosaic of its power."
Alex stared at the anchor. "So I'm already shattered."
"Yes. And if you try to break the bond…" She hesitated, an uncharacteristic flicker of pity in her eyes. "The shock could unmake you entirely. No soul. No afterlife. Nothing."
The scar hissed, Lies. She fears your strength.
Outside, the wind howled. The temple groaned, dust sifting from the ceiling. The priestess pressed a hand to the anchor. "We need to stabilize the wards. If I link to the anchor, I might buy us time. But you…" She gripped his shoulder. "You have to choose. Now."
Alex stepped forward. The anchor's light danced across his skin, illuminating the scar's latticework—dozens of interlocking shards. He thought of the valley choking below, the Devourer's eye winking in the dark. Of the priestess, bleeding but unbroken.
"Do it," he said.
She frowned. "You don't even know what—"
"I choose to break the key."
The scar erupted. Violet light flooded the chamber, thrashing against the anchor's radiance. The priestess shouted, but Alex was already plunging his hand into the shard.
Agony.
A thousand fractures, a thousand voices. Memories not his own—the Order's last stand, the Devourer's hunger, a thousand souls splintering. And deeper, older: a starless void, and something stirring within it.
You cannot erase us, the scar screamed. We are your blood, your breath!
Alex clawed at the shards within, grasping the threads of light. Then I'll burn with you.
To be continued.....