“Well, I have to say,” Finn said with a grin, wiping the sweat from his brow as they stepped into the massive, echoing chamber at the heart of the ruins, “I never thought I’d be this deep into some ancient ruin without having been eaten, crushed, or burned alive.”
“Give it time,” Maelis muttered dryly, her eyes scanning the stone walls covered in inscriptions. “There’s still plenty of opportunities for that.”
Lysandra shook her head, though there was a faint smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t tempt fate if I were you, Finn.”
“I’m just saying,” Finn continued, undeterred, “we’ve survived trials, shadow creatures, and fire-obsessed guardians. We deserve a break, right? A nice treasure chest full of gold or, I don’t know, a magical sword that doesn’t try to kill us.”
Alaric, walking with more steadiness now, though still clearly in pain, raised an eyebrow. “If you find one of those, let me know.”
The chamber they had entered was vast, with towering columns and high ceilings that disappeared into shadow. Along the walls, intricate carvings depicted scenes of flames, battles, and ancient figures locked in combat with shadowy beings. The air was thick with a sense of history, as if the very stones held the weight of centuries of forgotten stories.
Lysandra’s gaze was drawn to the largest of the carvings, a central mural that seemed to dominate the room. It showed a figure standing before a blazing flame, their arms raised as light poured from the fire, spreading out to the land beyond. Around the flame, shadowy figures lurked, watching, waiting.
“This must be it,” Lysandra whispered, stepping closer to the mural. “The True Flame.”
Maelis joined her, her brow furrowing as she studied the ancient inscriptions that lined the base of the mural. “It’s more than just a fire. It’s... linked to everything. The Flame isn’t just a source of power—it’s the life force of the world.”
Alaric approached, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he read the inscriptions alongside Maelis. “The Flame sustains the balance between light and darkness. Without it, the shadows grow stronger, and the world begins to wither.”
Finn let out a low whistle, his usual bravado dimming slightly as he absorbed the weight of their discovery. “So, no pressure then. It’s not just about saving the world—it’s about saving the soul of the world.”
Lysandra’s eyes lingered on the figure in the mural, their arms outstretched toward the Flame. “If we can’t reignite the True Flame, everything will fall apart. The darkness will consume everything.”
Maelis nodded, her expression grim. “And Malakhor knows that. He’s not just after power—he’s trying to destroy the very thing that keeps the world alive.”
“Well,” Finn said, stepping back from the mural and rubbing the back of his neck, “that just makes him even more of a lovely person than we thought.”
Alaric’s eyes darkened as he considered their next move. “We need to find the Flame. We’ve come too far to fail now.”
Just as he spoke, the ground beneath their feet trembled, a low rumble reverberating through the chamber. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the carvings on the walls seemed to shudder as the very foundations of the ruins shifted.
Lysandra’s hand went to her sword, her heart pounding. “What was that?”
Finn, already looking around with growing concern, didn’t miss a beat. “Either we triggered some ancient trap, or Malakhor’s forces just found us. Neither of those is a good option.”
Maelis crouched down, placing a hand on the ground as if feeling the vibrations. Her eyes narrowed. “It’s not a trap. It’s them. They’re close.”
Alaric swore under his breath, his hand tightening around his sword hilt. “We don’t have much time. If Malakhor’s forces reach us before we’ve secured the Flame…”
Lysandra’s eyes flicked back to the mural, her mind racing. “We have to move now. If the True Flame is the key to saving the world, then we can’t let them stop us.”
Finn gave a nervous laugh, though there was tension in his voice. “Right, no pressure. Just fighting for the soul of the world. Again.”
Maelis stood, her expression hard. “We’ve faced worse. We’ll get through this.”
Alaric met her gaze, his resolve clear. “We have no other choice.”
The tremors grew stronger, shaking the walls of the ruins, and the distant sound of marching feet and clattering weapons echoed through the chambers. Malakhor’s forces were closing in.
“Move,” Alaric ordered, his voice sharp. “We find the Flame, and we hold them off. We’re not leaving here without it.”
Lysandra led the way, her heart pounding as they hurried through the labyrinth of ancient corridors, the sound of Malakhor’s army growing louder with each step. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their task pressing down on them with every passing second.
As they turned a corner, Finn’s voice cut through the silence. “So, Lys,” he said, his tone lighter than the situation called for, “if we make it out of this alive—and that’s a big if—how about we take a break from all the world-saving business? You know, maybe a quiet dinner somewhere that isn’t surrounded by ancient death traps?”
Lysandra glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the danger they were in. “A quiet dinner, huh? You think we’ll have time for that?”
Finn grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, once we’ve saved the world, I’m pretty sure we’ll deserve it.”
Maelis, who had been walking just ahead, snorted. “If we survive this, I’ll buy you both dinner myself.”
“You’re on,” Finn replied with a wink.
The banter lightened the mood for a moment, but the urgency of their mission soon returned as they reached a large set of ancient doors, their surfaces etched with more carvings of flames and shadowy figures. The doors loomed before them, heavy and imposing, as if guarding something of immense importance.
“This is it,” Alaric said, his voice low. “The Flame is behind these doors.”
Lysandra stepped forward, placing her hand on the cold stone. “We’re so close.”
But before they could push the doors open, the ground shook violently, nearly knocking them off their feet. From the distance, the unmistakable sound of war horns blared, the noise reverberating through the ruins like a death knell.
“They’re here,” Maelis said, her voice tight with tension. “We don’t have much time.”
Alaric exchanged a quick glance with Lysandra, his expression grim but resolute. “We go in, we get the Flame, and we stop them. No matter what.”
Finn, for once, was quiet, his usual humor replaced by the seriousness of the situation. “Let’s just hope this isn’t another trap.”
With a deep breath, Lysandra pushed the doors open, and they stepped into the chamber beyond—a vast, circular room, its walls covered in the same glowing inscriptions they had seen throughout the ruins. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and atop it, a single, flickering flame burned brightly.
The True Flame. For a moment, all they could do was stare. The Flame was smaller than they had expected, but its presence was undeniable. It pulsed with energy, filling the room with a sense of warmth and light that was both comforting and overwhelming.
Alaric stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the Flame. “This is it. The heart of the world.”
But before they could take another step, the sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, and they turned to see figures emerging from the shadows—Malakhor’s forces, armed and ready for battle.
The leader of the group, a towering figure clad in dark armor, stepped forward, his eyes glowing with malevolent power. “You’re too late,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “The Flame will die, and with it, the world.”
Finn tightened his grip on his dagger, his usual humor gone. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”
Lysandra stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination. “This isn’t just a quest for light. We’re fighting for the very soul of the world.”
The ground shook again, and the chamber filled with the sound of steel being drawn, the tension thick as battle loomed. And with Malakhor’s forces closing in, the final fight for the True Flame was about to begin.