The ascent to the ziggurat was nothing short of grueling. The steps seemed endless, each one carved with glowing hieroglyphs that pulsed with dark energy, resonating with the growing storm above. The air was thick with the stench of decay and power, a combination that made each breath feel like a laborious task.
James led the way, his wings tucked in and his horns glowing faintly with the energy that coursed through him. His companions followed closely behind, each bearing the marks of battle but none showing any signs of retreat. They were committed, determined to see this through to the bitter end.
Yori's golden staff cast a gentle light over the group, its soothing aura countering the oppressive weight of the curse emanating from the ziggurat. "Stay close," she urged, her voice steady despite the tension. "This place feeds off fear and despair. Don't let it in."