Lythorn led them through the twisted trees, the River of Echoes fading into a distant murmur. The air thickened, heavy with an ancient, foreboding presence. Azura's shadow-self stirred, sensing something.
"We approach the Whispering Ruins," Lythorn whispered, its voice barely audible. "The Shadow King's stronghold is near."
Keir's hand tightened on his sword. "What ruins?"
"Ancient ones," Lythorn said. "Where the old gods spoke, and the land bled."
As they entered the ruins, whispers swelled, a cacophony of madness and memory. Azura's ears rang, her mind reeling. Keir's grip on her hand anchored her.
Lythorn vanished, leaving them amidst crumbling spires. A figure appeared, tall, its face shrouded in mist.
"Welcome, Shadowborn," it said, its voice like the wind. "I've waited. The King awaits... in the Heart of Shadows."
Azura felt a pull, her shadow-self surging. "Let's go."
Keir nodded, his eyes locked on the figure. "Together."
The mist parted, revealing a path into darkness. The whispers grew, a chant: "The shadow comes... the shadow comes..."
Azura's heart pounded, her shadow-self thrumming. "Keir?"
He smiled, fierce. "I'm here."
They stepped into the darkness...