The Devourer's Dominion

The guardian's eyes dimmed, its towering frame going still. The last echoes of its voice faded, leaving only the distant hum of the ancient temple. Aetheron exhaled, lowering his arm. The sigil on his skin was still glowing, but the heat had settled.

Veyrin, still catching his breath, shot Aetheron a look. "So… that wasn't a fight to the death?"

Aetheron didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on the guardian. It was watching him, not with hostility, but with something else. Expectation.

Lyara stepped closer, spear still in hand. "You passed its test."

Aetheron nodded. "Looks like it."

The guardian let out a low, rumbling breath. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, it raised one massive hand. The ground trembled as a hidden mechanism activated.

The altar split open.

From within, something rose—a pedestal, carved from obsidian, glowing with eerie blue symbols. Atop it lay an artifact, unlike anything Aetheron had seen before. A small, crystalline core, pulsing with an inner storm.

Lyara's fingers tightened on her spear. "That's… powerful."

Veyrin scoffed. "Yeah, no kidding."

Aetheron stepped forward, drawn to the artifact. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a surge of something jolted through him. His sigil reacted, flaring brightly.

The temple spoke again—this time, in a whisper against his mind.

"You walk the path of the Marked. The burden is yours to carry."

Then, silence.

Aetheron pulled his hand back, heart pounding. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but the sigil on his arm had changed. New patterns now traced across his skin, shifting like living ink.

Lyara watched carefully. "What did it say?"

Aetheron flexed his fingers, feeling the shift in his energy. "That this is just the beginning."

Veyrin let out a dramatic groan. "Great. More mystery destiny nonsense."

Aetheron ignored him, turning back toward the chamber's exit. "Let's go. We got what we came for."

—

The journey back to the surface was strangely quiet.

No more collapsing floors. No more lurking threats. Just the heavy air of a place that had finally given up its secrets.

When they emerged into daylight, Veyrin stretched with a relieved sigh. "Finally. I was starting to forget what the sun felt like."

Aetheron barely noticed. He was still thinking about what the temple had shown him. About the vision of the Sovereign. About the unseen enemy waiting beyond his understanding.

Lyara, as if sensing his thoughts, walked beside him. "You felt it, didn't you? That artifact… it wasn't just power. It was a warning."

Aetheron nodded. "Something's coming."

Veyrin groaned. "Of course it is. It's always coming. Can we at least have one week where we're not dealing with ancient forces trying to kill us?"

Aetheron smirked. "You signed up for this."

Veyrin scoffed. "I really need to rethink my life choices."

But despite his complaints, he followed without hesitation.

As they moved forward, the weight of the sigil on Aetheron's arm felt heavier than before.

And he knew, deep down—

This was far from over.