The shadowed figure stepped forward, its form twisting in the dim light, like smoke caught in a storm. The orb pulsed faster, and with each pulse, the room seemed to grow colder, the very air thick with malice. Kael's heart raced, and his grip on his sword tightened. This was no mere guardian—it was something far older, far darker.
Morgana stepped forward, her staff glowing with a protective light. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the growing unease. "What do you want with this place?"
The figure's laugh was low and hollow, echoing through the chamber like the sound of wind howling through a desolate, abandoned city. "What do I want?" it repeated, its voice like a distant, forgotten memory. "I was once the keeper of this realm's very soul. I was the one who guarded its heart, who kept it from the darkness that sought to consume it."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You… you were the Dark Lords' servant?"