Echoes of the First Flame
The chamber pulsed with ancient energy. The ghostly blue fire cast elongated shadows across the walls, making the statues of the old rulers seem almost alive. Aelir and Lira stood at the edge of the dais, the runes beneath them glowing faintly with each step.
Whispers filled the air—not the ones from their dreams, but clearer now, closer. Voices layered over one another, some weeping, others laughing, and a few speaking words neither of them recognized. Yet they understood them.
“This is where they made the pact,” Lira whispered, running her fingers over the runes. “Where they bound their power. And their curse.”
Suddenly, the statues' eyes ignited—one by one, each pair flaring with cold, spectral fire. A voice echoed through the chamber, deep and ancient.
“Y
