It was the same ruined throne room, but now new cracks marred the walls. Pillars and statues that had once stood half-collapsed had finally crumbled entirely.
All of it, no doubt, was the result of the earthquake that had shaken the dungeon not long ago.
In the chamber, the ancient horned skeleton still sat impaled upon the throne by a sword.
"…"
But this time it wasn't merely a hand that appeared before it. It was the very opponent who had once faced Zendal.
His expressionless face lingered on the sword for a few moments before his right hand closed around its hilt.
Slowly yet decisively, the young man drew the blade that had held the skeleton pinned, then slid it into the empty scabbard hanging from his belt.
He turned, and the echo of his footsteps resounded through the shattered hall until, at last, it faded into the distance.
***
Meldior guided us down one of the passages that branched off from the main corridor, and we didn't have to go far before we reached a massive stone door covered in intricate carvings.
The old mage placed his hand upon the door and whispered a few words. In an instant, the stone began to glow with a bluish light and tremble.
Without keeping us waiting long, the slab sank into the ground, clearing a threshold that opened into a vast, dark chamber.
Nodding to himself in satisfaction, the mage gave us a smile and beckoned us inside with a wave of his hand.
First of all, I don't know why the door was closed if Meldior had supposedly already opened it…
Was he showing off his lock-picking skills?
Was he trying to reserve the rogue's role in the party for himself?
I had barely taken a few steps into the gloomy chamber when I suddenly felt that something had shifted.
So you really have appeared.
A sharp pain tore through my head, accompanied by a dark, deep voice steeped in malice. It was nothing like the voice of the presence-less enemy I had faced before.
The others didn't seem to hear it, but Lirilien looked at me with concern, catching the grimace of pain I quickly tried to erase.
"What is that in the center of the chamber?" Rafal asked.
"An artifact, but it's broken," Meldior replied.
"Is that…?!" Lirilien began, but Meldior didn't need to hear the rest to nod in affirmation.
That was the artifact that had corrupted the flow of magic, draining the very Fountain of Life in Deeproot Sanctum.
Lirilien raised her right hand toward the artifact, and it began to shine with a radiant green light. The princess of the spirits was ready to strike…
But before I had to say a word, Lirilien restrained herself and let the magical energy gathering for her skill dissolve into nothing.
As I expected, in the end her reason overcame her emotions. She understood we shouldn't meddle lightly with the relics of this place, least of all with that artifact.
"But that's not all," Meldior affirmed.
The mage then proceeded to lead us across a floor inscribed with multiple magic circles surrounding the artifact, each more complex than the last.
Our destination was a mural, much like the one in the tomb? where I had awoken beneath the Citadel of Dawn. But nothing on it resembled anything I had seen in Endalor.
Carvings covered it, showing sacrifices of living beings, the destruction of relics, and the very devastation of the land itself, all turning into energy and streaming toward a dark hole at its center from which undulating lines escaped.
My headache worsened.
I knew what those lines meant. They were shadows of… ugh!... and the hole at the center was utter darkness… impenetrable and indecipherable.
The pain intensified.
"Adelgorth…"
The mage read aloud a name that stood out clearly among the inscriptions, then cast an inquisitive look at Rafal and Lirilien.
"It is the name of the vile being who defiled the Abyss," Lirilien answered, her voice sharp.
"I remember clearly the demon soldiers shouting that name," Rafal added.
"I see. The Baresta Empire took care to erase from history the names of the demon kings they defeated," the mage explained, stroking his beard. "Of course, the Isle of Mages is far older than Baresta, and we still keep our records. I merely wished to confirm it."
"Why erase them from history? Wouldn't they normally use their enemies' names to sing of their glories through the ages?" I asked, feeling my headache ease now that I was distracted by something else.
"Oh no, Lord, they indeed spent thousands of years boasting. It was only the names they erased," Meldior replied. "It's understandable when one thinks of all the lives they lost fighting them… Most likely they wished to rob them of the honor of leaving their names in history, as vengeance."
Was that really the reason?
Something didn't sit right with me, but content enough with the fading of my headache, I chose not to dig deeper into the matter.
***
"My lord, are you all right? It seemed like you had a headache… and you've had a serious expression ever since."
We had already returned to the main corridor when Lirilien leaned closer and asked me that question in a hushed voice, probably to keep the other two from worrying and to spare me an even worse headache.
"Don't worry, I'm used to it. It's really nothing," I replied, trying to put on my best reassuring smile.
!!
"Aaagghhhh!"
Before Lirilien could say anything else, and without the slightest warning, a flash of light struck Rafal, piercing his armor and carving a deep diagonal gash across his chest.
As if that weren't enough, a powerful kick sent him crashing into the stone wall, breaking through it.
Antion!
Swish
"What?! Kghh! Ogh…"
Meldior, who, though a mage, was at the vanguard beside Rafal, tried to raise his barrier. But the flash of light, now revealed as the gleaming blade of a sword, split it clean in two.
Without giving him time to react, the sword pressed forward from where it had stopped after cutting through the barrier and drove its pommel into the old man's stomach.
Of course, the sword wasn't moving on its own. It was in the hands of the same presence-less young man who had attacked me not long ago.
As I thought, this time he came prepared…
After incapacitating Meldior, our enemy's cold gaze fell on Lirilien. But only for a second, for in the very next instant the shining sword was already less than an inch from her throat.
But it couldn't go any further than that.
***
Not long after Zendal's party had left the mysterious chamber behind, light raced across the floor.
Slowly, energy seeped into the ancient engravings carved into the stone.
The magic circles stirred to life.
At the same time, in the ruined throne room, tiny, almost invisible red dots began to glimmer in the empty sockets of the ancient horned skull.