The tunnel widened as they descended. Darkness grew heavier, yet the walls spread farther apart until, at last, a colossal chamber opened before them. The ceiling rose like a sky of stone, streaked with crimson stalactites that dripped glowing droplets onto the ground. The space was vast—wide enough for hundreds of horses to gallop freely.
Then came the sound. Heavy, thunderous steps echoed across the chamber. The earth quaked beneath their feet. From the shadows emerged a figure that seemed torn between nightmare and divinity.
A lower body, massive and equine, larger than Mamir's Kabur or Ener's Karatay twofold. A torso sculpted like stone, muscles rippling across his chest and arms. His long, wavy hair framed a face both handsome and terrible, and in his hands rested a sword forged for giants.
— "I am Targon. Guardian of the Trevlon Layer. None of you will pass."
His voice cracked the silence like thunder.
Mamir raised the Elven Lightblade, its white glow pushing the shadows back. Ener drew his dagger, crouching low, while Runya stood behind, already weaving her magic.
With a roar, Targon charged. His colossal sword came down like a falling mountain. Mamir met the strike with his blade. The clash shook the chamber, sparks bursting into the dark. But the sheer force hurled Mamir backward, scraping deep lines into the stone floor.
— "Human! Your blade cannot even touch my shadow!" Targon mocked, eyes burning with contempt.
Mamir pushed himself up, teeth clenched. Ener darted forward, dagger flashing. He aimed for Targon's side, but the centaur's massive legs coiled, then struck. With a brutal double kick, Targon's hooves slammed into Ener's chest. The impact hurled him across the chamber, crashing him into the stone floor. Blood sprayed from his lips.
— "Ener!" Runya cried in panic.
But Mamir's voice cut through, strained yet commanding:
— "Stay back! We can't reach him unless this monster falls!"
Targon laughed, each step shaking the ground as he advanced. His blade rose high, the edges gleaming with fiery heat. Mamir steadied himself, raised the Lightblade, and braced. The impact was devastating; their weapons clashed and the shock drove Mamir further back, his arms trembling under the weight.
But he did not yield. His eyes burned with defiance. Runya whispered incantations, sending sparks of magic spiraling into Mamir's body, bolstering his strength.
He surged forward. Sword met sword, light clashed with flame. Each strike sent echoes rolling across the vast chamber.
Ener, gasping and bloodied, forced himself up. Staggering but unbroken, he lunged again. His dagger slashed into Targon's leg, tearing through flesh. The guardian roared in pain, his massive body lurching. He swung to strike Ener, but the distraction had already been made.
Mamir seized the moment. The Lightblade glowed with Runya's last burst of magic, blazing brighter than ever. With a cry, he drove it forward, straight into Targon's chest.
The blade pierced through muscle and fire. A burst of light erupted, and Targon staggered back, eyes wide. His sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the stone. Knees buckling, he fell to the ground.
But his eyes… they no longer burned with hatred. Instead, a strange, almost peaceful light shone within them.
With his final breath, he spoke:
— "At last… I am free. Thank you… prince of destiny."
The words lingered in the chamber as his form dissolved. Flesh and flame unraveled into radiant streams of light, fading into the air.
The three stood frozen. Runya whispered, voice trembling:
— "Free? Why… why would he thank us?"
Mamir lowered his blade, its glow dimming. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His eyes, however, were locked where the centaur had stood—haunted by both triumph and questions left behind.
When Targon's light was gone, silence returned to Trevlon. But it was not an empty silence. It was the kind that carried secrets, waiting to be uncovered.
And their path stretched on—toward deeper darkness, and even greater mysteries.
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