The Lost Fragments of Power
The priest’s cryptic words still echoed in Aglovan’s mind as they stood before the first of the four ancient tombs. The air was thick with the scent of decay, the entrance lined with runes long since dulled by time. Somewhere inside lay a fragment of the amulet, hidden away by desperate hands as the temple fell.
The group pressed forward, their torches casting wavering light against the stone walls. Every shadow seemed to move, every whisper carried the weight of the dead. The first chamber was eerily silent, but the second was not so kind—skeletal warriors rose from their slumber, their empty eyes burning with unnatural light.
Tomb by tomb, battle by battle, they reclaimed the lost pieces. Each fragment seemed unremarkable on its own, but as they fit them together, a deep crimson light pulsed from the central gem. At first faint, but with each step closer to their goal, it grew stronger, guiding them toward Alaris’s domain.
The final tomb held the fiercest resistance yet, but at last, the amulet was whole again. Aglovan held it up, and for the first time, the veil over their path began to lift. The way to Alaris’s tower was no longer hidden—it was time to face whatever lay ahead.
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