The heart of the ancient structure felt different. Alive, almost. As they crossed the threshold into the chamber beyond, the atmosphere shifted—thick with centuries of forgotten magic and purpose. The air seemed to hum with a quiet, almost mournful energy. The chamber stretched high above them, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, its walls lined with intricate carvings of wolves, Dreamwalkers, and unknown symbols that twisted and coiled like the threads of fate.
Cyril's boots echoed softly against the cold stone floor as he stepped further into the chamber. His eyes flickered to the walls, the carvings almost seeming to move in the dim light, their meanings elusive yet familiar. Everything about this place—the silence, the weight of history pressing in around him—made him feel as though t
