The sun hovered just above the horizon, casting golden rays through the clouds over Elaria. From the Temple Citadel, bells tolled in measured rhythm, their echoes carried by the wind across the city below. Today was not marked by triumph or celebration, but by remembrance.
Inside the sanctum, the high halls were draped in silver banners edged with black thread—a mourning color among Sanctum's clergy. The ceremony for the fallen was to begin soon, and many had gathered, including acolytes, knights, and the surviving members of the expedition that had returned from the north.
At the center of it all stood Seraphina, cloaked in a white robe with blue linings, her silver hair braided and draped over her left shoulder. Her expression was composed, but her eyes reflected the toll recent days had taken. Beside her was Caelum, his posture straight and knightly, yet his gaze flickered often to the floor as if avoiding eye contact with the truth.
The deaths they had witnessed in the ruins of Kaldrith's Reach still haunted them—the horrors released from the forgotten vaults, the betrayal of those who had once fought beside them, and the grim reality that the veil between worlds was thinner than they ever feared.
As the choir began to sing, the hall quieted. It was a hymn written in the old tongue—a song of passage, bidding farewell to souls torn too soon from the mortal coil. The voices rose with aching beauty, weaving a solemn reverence into every breath of air. Candles flickered gently, casting a warm glow that softened even the most rigid armor.
Seraphina stepped forward when the final note faded. Her voice, though calm, carried clear and firm:
"We gather here not only to honor the brave souls who fell, but to remember why they chose to stand. The veil grows thinner. The echoes of the Sanctum's warnings resound louder each day. And still, we must endure, not out of pride, but purpose."
A silence fell once more before she spoke the names of the departed—each syllable a weight on the heart. One by one, names echoed off the high stone walls, met with bowed heads and clenched fists.
When Seraphina concluded, Caelum approached the altar and placed a small crest—his fallen comrade's sigil—upon the marble. "You were more than a blade. You were a brother." His words trembled with emotion as he stepped back.
Later that evening, the halls began to clear. Seraphina remained in the sanctuary, seated before the flame of the Eternal Light. The sacred fire burned with a faint blue hue, offering guidance, reflection, and perhaps even communion.
She spoke aloud, though no one stood near. "We need to find the next seal before it's too late. The runes left behind in Kaldrith's ruins... they were not just warnings. They were coordinates."
From the shadows behind a pillar, an aged voice emerged. "You're right, child. And you won't be the only one seeking it."
Seraphina stood, her hand reaching toward the hilt of her blade. From the gloom stepped Archon Malrik, the head of the Order of Seers. A gaunt man with robes that shimmered like starlight and eyes blind to the world but keen with foresight.
"You knew?" she asked quietly.
"Not all, but enough to understand that the veil's disruption wasn't natural. Someone is tampering with the bindings from within. Someone who once walked these halls."
Seraphina's breath caught. "You speak of Master Thorne?"
Malrik gave a slow nod. "He sought knowledge in places forbidden for a reason. He believed the Sanctum's secrets too restrictive. His exile did not quell his ambitions. It only gave him time."
Caelum entered, catching the last of Malrik's words. "Are you saying Thorne is behind this chaos?"
"Not alone," Malrik answered. "He found allies in the shadows. Ones who speak in tongues older than our world. He may be the hand, but the voice that commands it speaks from beyond."
Silence settled among them as the flames flickered higher for a moment.
Seraphina turned back toward the altar. "Then we find the second seal. Before he does."
Two nights later, a small group prepared for departure from the Sanctum's inner gates. Seraphina, Caelum, the twin scouts Veyna and Orrin, and a silent figure clad in crimson—Elias, a mage once lost to the veil but returned with fractured memories and strange new power.
Their destination: the Oathspire Tundra, a land of endless snow and buried temples. According to Malrik's deciphered texts, the next seal was hidden beneath the Glacien Cradle, an ancient cathedral carved into the mountain itself, now buried under centuries of ice.
Veyna, always the optimist among them, chuckled as she adjusted her travel gear. "Can't believe I'm going from flame-lit halls to frozen tombs. At least I can test out my new heat stones."
Orrin gave her a skeptical glance. "As long as they don't explode like the last batch."
Caelum smiled faintly, but his focus was on Elias. The mage stood silently, his hand occasionally twitching with subtle sparks of aether. Since returning from the veil's edge, Elias had changed. His gaze lingered too long on things unseen, and his spells—while powerful—always carried a strange aftereffect, as though touching something not meant for their realm.
As they moved into the tundra, harsh winds bit at their cloaks and frost quickly claimed their armor. The path ahead was treacherous, winding through ravines and over thin ice bridges.
At one such crossing, Elias paused. "Something watches us. Beneath."
Veyna looked down at the ice. "Please don't say that while we're standing on it."
But before anyone could respond, the ice cracked.
Screams echoed as the team fell into the cavern beneath, crashing through frozen layers until they landed in a dome-like chamber of crystalline blue. Light filtered down from the cracks above, illuminating murals etched into the walls.
Seraphina groaned, clutching her arm. "Everyone alive?"
Caelum nodded, helping Veyna to her feet. Elias had landed upright, unscathed, eyes scanning the walls with a silent intensity.
The murals depicted a story—serpentine figures with wings surrounding a great flame, battling shadowy forms that bore a familiar symbol: the mark of the Unbound.
"This... this predates the Sanctum itself," Seraphina whispered.
"It's the First War," Elias murmured. "The one sealed not by mortals... but by something older."
At the center of the chamber stood a plinth of white stone, upon which rested an orb encased in frost. As they approached, a whisper filled the air—soft, melodic, but laced with sorrow.
"The second seal," Seraphina said. "It's here."
Elias reached out, fingers brushing the frost. But the moment contact was made, a wave of darkness burst from the orb, slamming them backward.
From the shadows rose a creature formed of wailing voices and ice—an Echo Guardian. It struck without hesitation, forcing the group into battle. Veyna and Orrin unleashed coordinated attacks, while Caelum defended Seraphina as she prepared a binding incantation.
Elias, however, stood still, eyes glowing faintly as he whispered a phrase none could understand. The creature paused, shuddered, and then released a scream that cracked nearby pillars.
"NOW!" Seraphina shouted, and Caelum pierced the creature's heart with a blade of light while Seraphina completed her spell.
The Echo Guardian disintegrated, and silence returned.
They turned to the orb again. This time, Seraphina lifted it carefully. The frost receded, and a warm pulse radiated outward.
"One more seal reclaimed," she said.
But in the shadows, unnoticed by all, a faint glyph glowed against the wall—marking that their presence had been registered.
Far across the world, in a chamber veiled in eternal twilight, Master Thorne opened his eyes and smiled.
"They found the second," he whispered. "Let the next hymn begin."