The figure that emerged from the shadows was tall, cloaked in tattered robes that fluttered in the unnatural wind swirling around the chamber. It moved with an eerie grace, as if the darkness itself had come alive to answer the call of the stone. Eryndor’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath shallow as she instinctively stepped back, putting more distance between herself and the presence now looming in the ruin.
The figure was silent at first, its face obscured by the hood of its cloak. But Eryndor could feel its gaze, cold and penetrating, like it was peering directly into her soul. The whispers in her mind grew louder, urging her to flee, to run before the darkness fully awakened.
“Who… who are you?” Eryndor demanded, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain calm. She
