The air thickened as they stepped into the chamber, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint crackling of Elena's flame. The Gate of Final Verses loomed before them—an archway sculpted from obsidian stone, etched with symbols that seemed to shift and writhe like living ink. The surface shimmered, its blackness swallowing the light around it, an endless void encased in an unyielding frame.
Finn's fingers twitched on the hilt of his blade. "I don't like this," he muttered. "Feels like we're walking into a trap."
"Maybe we are," Elena murmured, her gaze fixed on the twisting glyphs that spiraled across the gate's surface. "But if this is the only way to seal the rift, we don't have a choice."