The Temple of Lament

The skeletal remains that littered the Withered Woods still crackled faintly with the remnants of necromantic energy, but the forest had fallen eerily silent. The heavy mist clung to the earth, and the pale light of dawn barely pierced the thickets. Only the occasional creak of dead branches disturbed the stillness.

Liora stood at the edge of the clearing, her gaze locked on the crumbling temple ahead. Its jagged stones were slick with age and shadowed by thick, gnarled vines that clung to its broken pillars like strangling hands. The temple's once-majestic archway had been reduced to little more than splintered stone, and the runes that adorned its weathered façade were faded and fractured, barely legible.

But Liora didn't need to read them. She could feel them.

The temple pulsed faintly with necromantic energy—a slow, steady heartbeat of dark magic. She could taste it in the air: bitter and metallic, like blood on her tongue. The power radiating from the ruin was ancient, far older than the wards she had encountered in the forest.

Alaric stepped up beside her, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. His face was calm, but his hand lingered near the hilt of his sword. "This place… it shouldn't exist," he muttered, almost to himself. "It was destroyed centuries ago."

Selene, crouching nearby with her daggers drawn, let out a low breath. "Destroyed? Looks pretty intact to me." Her green eyes flicked toward Liora, searching for some kind of reassurance. "Do you feel anything?"

Liora's fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak. She felt everything.

Her necromancy hummed in response to the energy spilling from the temple—like iron drawn to a lodestone. Her chest tightened with the same magnetic pull she had felt when first touching the Codex of Lost Souls. The power here was familiar.

It was calling to her.

But something else was waiting within the stone. Something more than the temple itself. A presence. Ancient, patient, and watchful.

She took a steadying breath. "It's not just the temple," she murmured, her voice low. "There's something inside."

Alaric's hand settled on her shoulder. His grip was firm but not unkind. "Then we go in together," he said evenly. "No mistakes."

The Veilbound nodded grimly. They moved forward, weapons in hand, slipping into the crumbling shadow of the temple's entrance.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the temperature plummeted.

A frigid gust of air slithered through the stone corridor, carrying with it the scent of damp rot. The walls were lined with jagged carvings—depictions of long-forgotten rituals. Bone altars. Pale hands reaching toward the sky. And bodies—rows upon rows of them—kneeling in silent supplication before a faceless figure cloaked in shadow.

Selene traced her fingers lightly over one of the carvings, her voice barely above a whisper. "These markings…" she muttered. "They're like the ones we found in the catacombs beneath Duskwatch." Her brow furrowed. "But older."

Liora's eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, her boots scuffing against the worn stone floor. Her fingers brushed over the carvings, and at once, a faint violet glow flickered along the edges of the symbols. The runes responded to her touch, pulsing faintly with dark energy.

The stone groaned softly as an unseen mechanism clicked into place. With a low, grinding noise, the wall shifted slightly, and a passageway opened ahead—a narrow stairwell descending into darkness.

Alaric exhaled sharply through his nose. "That's never a good sign."

Without hesitation, Liora stepped forward. She conjured a small orb of violet necromantic light, letting it hover before them. Its pale glow illuminated the spiral stone steps, which descended sharply into a vast, open chamber below.

The chamber was massive—larger than Liora had expected. The vaulted ceiling arched overhead, its cracked stone ribs vanishing into the gloom above. Pale torches flickered along the walls, their flames strangely still, as if frozen in place. The floor was covered in a thin layer of mist, and at its center, a dais of black stone stood beneath a towering archway.

And on the dais lay the Heart of Mourning.

Liora's breath caught in her throat.

The artifact was not as she had imagined it—not a stone, not a relic. It was a shard—jagged, blackened crystal the length of her forearm. It floated weightlessly in the air, spinning slowly in place. Its surface was fractured and slick with a dark, glassy sheen, and faint trails of violet energy spiraled around it like a slow-turning maelstrom.

But she barely had time to process it.

A sound echoed from the far side of the chamber—the slow clatter of bone against stone.

From the gloom emerged the bone warden.

It towered above them—a skeletal giant wreathed in blackened iron and jagged bone. Its spine was plated with rusted metal, and its arms were skeletal but reinforced with cruel, serrated blades of bone. Pale, soulless light burned in its eye sockets, and when it moved, the ground quaked beneath its weight.

"Warden," Alaric hissed, drawing his sword. "Get ready!"

The bone warden's head jerked violently, and with a hollow, rasping snarl, it charged.

Selene was the first to react, dashing to the side with fluid grace. Her daggers flashed, carving into the bone warden's massive leg, but her blades barely scratched the ancient creature's plated bone. She twisted away, narrowly dodging a massive, clawed strike that slammed into the stone floor, sending shards of rock flying.

Alaric roared, slashing his sword into the warden's ribcage. Silver flames burst from the strike, illuminating the darkness. The warden staggered but did not fall. Instead, it let out a guttural, bone-rattling roar, summoning a wave of skeletal sentinels from the ground.

Liora's eyes darkened. She didn't hesitate.

With a flick of her wrist, she cast Dark Channeling, sending a surge of necromantic energy into the skeletal minions. The sentinels jerked violently and twisted, their bones blackening under her control. Their eyes burned with violet light as they turned against the warden.

The warden swung its massive blade-like claws, cleaving two of the corrupted skeletons in half, but Liora was already moving. Her cloak billowed as she sprinted toward the dais.

"Cover me!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Alaric slammed his sword into the stone floor, summoning a wall of holy flame between her and the bone warden. Selene moved swiftly, cutting down the remaining skeletal sentinels with rapid, fluid strikes.

Liora reached the dais, her breath ragged. She could feel the Heart of Mourning's power—wild, boundless, and unstable. The crystal pulsed violently, and for a moment, she saw images flash through her mind: faces she didn't know, voices she had never heard.

She extended her hand toward the shard. The violet energy swirled around her fingers, its power filling her veins, crackling in her chest.

The bone warden roared in fury behind her, breaking through Alaric's wall of flame. It lunged, its massive blade-arm descending toward her back.

In a surge of instinct, she willed the power of the Heart into her outstretched hand. The violet energy exploded outward in a shockwave of necromantic force.

The bone warden was hurled backward, slamming into the chamber wall with a bone-crunching impact. Cracks splintered through the stone as the creature collapsed into a heap of shattered bone.

Liora clutched the Heart of Mourning to her chest, her breath ragged. The crystal's violet energy seeped into her veins. Her entire body burned with its power.

Alaric and Selene ran to her side, their eyes wide with both awe and concern.

Alaric's voice was low, breathless. "You… you did it."

But as Liora clutched the Heart, she realized with a cold certainty that she hadn't just taken it.

She had bound it—to herself.

And far beyond the Withered Woods, in the distant horizon, a dark figure stirred, its eyes flickering with the same violet light. Watching. Waiting.