Avalon Underground Temple, Elysvarre
Midnight, two days after the first night
Below the magnificent Elysvarre palace lies an ancient stone corridor, intricately carved by their ancestors centuries ago. The sound of dripping water punctuates the silence, creating an eerie atmosphere as if dark secrets and alienation are entombed within those stones.
There, Sheena holds a magic lantern emitting a soft blue glow beside Fitran, who stands ready to summon the legendary power of Excalibur at any moment. The damp, foul smell of the wet earth stirs memories of an ancient curse that resides within the darkness of this corridor, and each step they take feels increasingly heavy, a haunting reminder of the tragic fate that awaits should a wrong decision be made.
"This place..." Fitran whispers, his breath echoing in the silent corridor, "feels like a prison cave. We must be cautious; the curse lurks at every step we take."
Every word spoken reverberated off the cold stone walls, creating a resonance that enveloped them in an unsettling embrace. The air in the temple felt heavily laden with untold secrets, echoing the curse that bound them; the damp aroma mixed with the scent of aged earth heightened the eerie atmosphere, serving as a chilling reminder of the dark tale that had haunted generations.
Sheena nodded slowly, her golden hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her heart raced as if communicating with the latent power within this temple. Outside the silent corridor, time seemed to pause, anticipating a pivotal moment that would change their fate.
"Once, the rulers named it the Vault of Pactum, where all secrets are hidden, embodying the intertwining of history and fate. And here I..." Her voice trembled, "will reveal everything to you." She felt the weight of a complex history filled with sacrifice and curses, intricately woven into the fabric of their existence. Each step they took retraced a path once trodden by their ancestors, where their decisions could dictate their own destiny.
They stopped before a massive stone door adorned with ancient carvings of the almost-forgotten Proto-Speech script:
"Velos Krath — Pactum Noctis,"
"The Pact of Night"—two words encapsulating not only promises and threats but also the formidable power contained within the shrouded depths of darkness.
The words were imbued with profound power, as if they were calling out to their very souls. In the silence, they sensed how history intertwined intricately with their fates, reminding them of unresolved battles. With a gentle incantation filled with hope, Sheena reached out and touched the center of the door. The massive stone stirred slowly, the deep sound resonating within their bones, as if awakening the ancient prophecy inscribed on the temple walls. The power confined behind the door began to flow, compelling them to continue their journey, as though their ancestors were waiting to grant their blessing.
Beyond the door, a vast room unfolded. As Sheena stepped inside, the air felt heavy, thick with an ancient aroma that pierced the nostrils, as if time itself had come to a standstill. In the center stood a black altar, surrounded by mysterious shadows. Behind it was a carving of a giant face:
Osiris.
The King of Darkness. Its empty eyes gazed straight ahead, measuring the depths of fear and desire. The sound of water dripping from the high ceiling provided a soft tone, like the whisper of spirits trapped within the walls.
Upon the altar lay a 古老的书, an ancient book. Its cover, crafted from black dragon skin, had darkened with age, with tiny cracks that could narrate the shadowy tales of the past. It seemed as though the book was beckoning Sheena, harboring secrets that interwove her family's curse with a grander destiny. In the dim light of the ancient lantern, she felt an overwhelming magical vibration emanating from the altar, as if every ray of energy enveloped her body.
Sheena stepped closer to the altar, her hands trembling, overwhelmed by anxiety and caution. "All this time... I thought my curse was merely a weakening family spell," she inhaled deeply, her voice echoing in the shadow-filled room. "But that's not the case. This curse is a legacy etched in our blood, a connection to Osiris." She gazed at Fitran, her eyes gleaming in the dark, as if trying to convey the depth of their bond with the magic that had been passed down.
"What we face now is not just our destiny but also the helplessness of our family's history."
"This is... Abacomancy." He pronounced it slowly, his voice trembling in the air, as if the words had the power to open doors never imagined before. "This ancient art manipulates fate and the lines of our hands. It is the key to understanding a future contingent on their choices, a single decision that can change everything."
"Four centuries ago, my ancestors made a pact with Osiris to make the descendants of Elyndra a never-ending source of wealth. This land will prosper... at a cost that must be borne by our generation."
"The curse: anyone of Elyndra's blood who lives... will turn anything they touch into gold, and the curse will only end when a person's free will is stronger than the will of Osiris." Fitran stared deeply, feeling the weight of the truth, realizing that this was not just a story; it altered destinies.
He clenched his fists. "And that is you." The heaviness in the air seemed to bind them in an unspoken bond, while the weight of history pressed down like a thick fog.
"All this time... I thought my family's curse was merely a weakening spell," he took a breath, his voice echoing in the shadow-filled room. "But, it turns out, it's not. This curse is a legacy etched in our blood, an entanglement with Osiris, a historical burden we must confront."
She bit her lip, drifting back to the difficult times when the curse began to demand its price. "That means... this curse has passed on. I thought—" her voice broke, "I thought it was this curse that killed my family. They couldn't bear Osiris' will. They died because I survived, because I... chose my own will."
Teardrops fell, wetting her cheeks. "I'm not pregnant yet, Fitran. I'm scared. If I pass on Elyndra's blood before this curse is lifted... Osiris could claim his will on our child, and this curse might continue."
Fitran took a deep breath, feeling the discomfort and the heavy burden enveloping Sheena's tragic story. He recalled the painful confrontation, binding them in an almost indescribable emptiness.
He remembered...
Terrible death always accompanies this curse, overshadowing every decision made by Elyndra's descendants with shadows of sorrow and loss.
"No signs of magical will detected; no wounds, no poison symptoms," the observer remarked, reflecting the unsettling reality that cloaked Elyndra's lineage.
And before that fateful night, Kaseo Vallaricus—the Patrician who had once tried to impose a new pact—had repeatedly sought to forge a connection with them. Proposing rituals. Proposing contracts.
In the shadows of the dark underground temple, the distant dripping of water formed a sorrowful rhythm, intertwining their fates with a sense of inevitability. The cold, damp air pierced their skin, augmenting a prevailing sensation of alienation, as if they were trapped in a time unchecked by the world above.
But Fitran did not voice his doubts now. Sheena was not ready to accept that perhaps... her family's deaths were not due to a curse, but rather Kaseo's actions using high sorcery to eliminate other heirs for personal gain.
He could feel the tension between them, as if the walls of this temple themselves were listening to the clash of doubts and hopes. Each second felt like a year, burdening their hearts with a dark past.
"But Sheena does not know; and perhaps... it is better this way, for now."
Fitran gazed at Sheena, a newfound determination swelling within him. "I will not allow our child... or anyone in Elysvarre... to fall victim to this curse." He stepped towards the altar, his hand brushing the abacomancy book, feeling the ancient energy dormant within. As each second passed, the pain and sacrifices of the past enveloped them.
"I will break this legacy. I, Fitran Fate, the author of a new will for Avalon and Elysvarre."
A heavy, resonant voice emerged from the carved face of Osiris, instilling a profound fear that rippled through their beings.
"You challenge a pact older than love. Older than free will."
"I will judge your will, Fitran Fate,"
"If it is weak... you will lose everything."
Dark magical winds swept through, causing Sheena and Fitran's hair to billow as if caught in an invisible storm. The distance between them and the altar felt constricted, heightening the tension as they confronted the curse that weighed heavily on their shoulders.
Fitran stood firm, challenging the dark legacy that threatened them, striving to find courage amidst the encompassing darkness. He understood the boundaries he had to break for a better future.
"If my will is weak, then I deserve to lose. But if it is strong—"
"I am the end of your curse, Osiris."
Sheena grasped his shoulder, feeling Fitran's strength flowing into her, awakening her dormant fighting spirit. Their courage intertwined with the surge of hope flowing between them.
"I will not allow anyone... not even Osiris... to take my family again. We will no longer be pawns in a power play that oppresses."
Her eyes glowed softly, holding a burning determination.
"I am Queen Elysvarre. I am not a follower of the curse but its breaker. Together with you, I will write a new chapter in our history."
Fitran turned, their eyes meeting, feeling the shift of power in that gaze, as if their love and hope could reignite the faded flame.
"Then let us write a new will together, one that redeems past mistakes and paves the way for the next generation."
And in the darkness of the Vault of Pactum, for the first time in four centuries, two souls dared to choose their own meaning—defying the old will, the weight of history, and the fate bestowed upon them. The damp air enveloped the room, carrying the scent of wet earth and moss. The echo of dripping water from the ceiling heightened the tension, each sound seemingly reverberating from the walls that held countless secrets.
"We will not be puppets to the wills that have forsaken us," Sheena declared, her voice steady despite the undertone of doubt. Her heart raced, fueled not only by fear but also by a burgeoning courage within her soul. Confronting the looming curse, she understood the challenges that lay ahead; a confrontation with Osiris that was both daunting and unavoidable, demanding sacrifices that extended beyond mere mental resolve.