Arc 2 Chapter 5: Runes of the Forgotten

The ropes groaned softly under their weight as Irelia and Nariel descended into the chamber beneath the altar. With each foot they lowered, the air grew colder, seeping through their armor and settling into their bones. The acrid tang of something ancient and long undisturbed clung to the damp walls, mingling with the faint scent of old magic.

The runes etched into the stone pulsed faintly, their glow flickering in an erratic rhythm, casting restless shadows that shifted like living things.

Irelia’s boots hit the ground first, sending a sharp jolt through her already aching limbs. She exhaled through gritted teeth, steadying herself against the moss-covered stone. Her eyes flicked to her short sword, the dim glow of the surrounding runes catching on its edge. Adjusting the weapon at her side, she rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to stay alert.

Nariel landed moments later, her descent as fluid as ever. She straightened, her sharp blue eyes swept the chamber, and her hand instinctively rested on the hilt of her sword. The oppressive silence pressed down on them, broken only by the faint hum of magic that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

“Feel that?” Nariel asked, her voice low.

Irelia nodded, her emerald-green eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. “Hard to miss. It’s like the walls are alive.”

Nariel’s expression tightened as her gaze flickered toward the branching hallways that stretched into darkness. “Stay sharp. This place doesn’t feel abandoned.”

Irelia let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “It never is. Not when magic like this is involved.”

The chamber’s layout was a twisting labyrinth of ancient corridors, their jagged stone walls barely illuminated by the pulsing runes. Irelia ran her fingers along one of the markings, the surface colder than it should be. Her touch lingered for a moment.

“These aren’t like the ones above,” she murmured, more to herself than to Nariel. “They’re older. Deeper. The magic here isn’t just residual—it’s still active.”

Nariel stepped closer, her voice edged with concern. “Which makes this place more dangerous.”

The faint hum of magic grew louder as they stepped forward, blending with the soft echoes of their boots against the stone. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness, and every shadow seemed to move just beyond the edge of their vision.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Nariel remarked, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

Irelia smirked, though her eyes stayed fixed ahead. “Just savoring the peace before the traps start trying to kill us.”

Nariel’s lips twitched into a brief, humorless smile. “I give it five minutes.”

Irelia halted at a fork in the path, her brow furrowing as her fingers traced the inscriptions lining the walls. The rune beneath her touch was warm—too warm—standing in stark contrast to the biting chill that clung to the air. She exhaled slowly, considering the pulse of the magic beneath her fingertips.

“This way,” she decided, her voice steady as she stepped toward the right passage.

Nariel followed without hesitation, though her sharp gaze flickered toward the restless shadows shifting along the edges of the corridor. “Let’s hope your instincts are as sharp as your blade.”

Irelia threw her a quick glance, smirking. “They always are.”

Nariel arched a brow, unimpressed. “That’s reassuring, coming from the woman who nearly got herself incinerated by a hellhound.”

Irelia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She refocused on the path ahead, the steady thrum of magic beneath their feet pulsing like a heartbeat, urging them forward.

The corridors stretched endlessly, their labyrinthine twists and turns giving no indication of where they led. The runes embedded in the walls shimmered with an eerie vibrancy, their glow waxing and waning in patterns that felt almost… deliberate. The oppressive stillness pressed down harder, the only sound the rhythmic drip of water echoing from somewhere unseen.

Irelia kept her movements careful, her short sword held at the ready. Her emerald eyes flicked between the runes on the walls and those carved into the floor, her mind piecing together fragments of forgotten knowledge. Each step deepened the unease curling in her gut.

Behind her, Nariel remained close, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. Her every movement was precise, calculated—her senses attuned to the shadows, ready for whatever threat might be waiting in the depths.

The first trap sprang to life without warning.

A faint click echoed through the corridor as Nariel’s boot grazed a loose stone. The sound barely had time to register before the walls shuddered, hidden panels sliding open with a hiss. Spears shot out in a deadly blur, slicing through the air where they had stood just moments before.

“Move!” Nariel barked, her reflexes sharp as she grabbed Irelia’s arm and yanked her back. A spear whistled past, missing Irelia by a breath.

Irelia exhaled sharply, pressing her back against the wall. “Great timing,” she muttered, still catching her breath.

“You’re welcome,” Nariel replied, her tone dry but alert. Her sharp blue eyes swept over the walls, assessing the trap with cold precision. “Stay close. Watch where you step.”

Irelia adjusted her grip on her short sword, her emerald gaze flicking toward the runes lining the stone. Patterns of glowing script pulsed faintly, their meaning clicking into place in her mind. “These markings… they’re warnings. Guides for the traps.”

Nariel gave her a pointed look. “Then start guiding. Unless you’re eager to see how well those spears aim.”

Irelia huffed but stepped forward, running her fingers lightly over the ancient inscriptions. “The pressure plates are marked,” she murmured, tracing a faint symbol with the tip of her boot. She pointed toward a sequence of dull, unlit stones embedded in the floor. “Step here, and we won’t trigger the next set.”

Nariel followed her lead, her movements careful and controlled. The corridor remained silent save for their measured footsteps, the tension between them thick as they navigated forward.

One trap down. Too many more to go.

The corridor opened into a larger chamber, its ceiling high and lost in shadows.At the far end, a shimmering magical barrier blocked their path, its surface undulating like ripples on water. Suspended in the air before it, glowing runes hovered in an intricate pattern, shifting subtly as if alive.

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Irelia stepped forward, her emerald eyes narrowing as she studied the symbols. “This is... complex,” she muttered, frustration laced beneath her curiosity.

Behind her, Nariel crossed her arms, her stance sharp and expectant. “Can you deactivate it?”

Irelia scoffed, though her confidence wavered. “Obviously.” She reached out, her fingers brushing against the glowing runes, feeling the latent power thrumming beneath them. The symbols pulsed at her touch, sending faint ripples of energy through the air.

Nariel tensed. “Careful.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Irelia shot back, though the bead of sweat trickling down her temple betrayed her growing strain.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Irelia’s focus was absolute, her fingers moving swiftly as she aligned the runes, shifting them into their proper sequence. Nariel’s gaze flickered between Irelia’s work and the darkened edges of the chamber, her muscles coiled, ready for the inevitable.

Then, with a faint chime, the runes clicked into place.

The barrier dissolved, its energy fading into the walls like mist in the morning sun.

Irelia turned, smirking triumphantly. “See? Told you I—”

A sharp hiss cut her off.

The chamber trembled. A low groan echoed from above, followed by the ominous grind of shifting stone.

Nariel’s gaze snapped upward. “Move!” she barked, grabbing Irelia’s arm.

The ceiling above them began to descend, jagged spikes glinting in the flickering light.

They bolted through the now-open passage, their boots slamming against the stone floor. The air thickened with dust and magic, the rumble of collapsing mechanisms chasing them like a beast at their heels. Cold air rushed toward them as they crossed into the next chamber, and just as they stumbled through, the ceiling behind them crashed down, sealing the entrance with a deafening slam.

Irelia braced herself against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She shot Nariel a look, half a grin and half exasperation. “You love dragging me out of near-death situations, don’t you?”

Nariel exhaled sharply, brushing dust from her shoulder. “Not particularly. But you seem incapable of avoiding them.”

As their breathing steadied, Irelia’s gaze drifted to the carvings lining the chamber walls. Flames and phoenixes danced across the stone, their intricate designs pulsing faintly in the dim light—both mesmerizing and unsettling.

“We’re getting closer,” she murmured, more to herself than to Nariel.

Nariel cast her a sidelong glance, a flicker of concern crossing her sharp features. “Closer to what?”

Irelia didn’t answer right away. Her fingers brushed over the glowing carvings, the warmth beneath her touch sending a shiver down her spine. The energy within them was still alive. Still waiting.

“Something important,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nariel frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she exhaled and straightened. “Let’s keep moving,” she said, steady and sure. “Whatever’s ahead, we’ll face it together.”

The oppressive atmosphere deepened as they pressed forward, the faint hum of magic growing louder with every step. The ruins felt alive, their shifting shadows twisting unnaturally along the walls.

Then, the corridor opened into a vast chamber.

The space was cavernous, its walls adorned with glowing carvings that pulsed like a heartbeat, casting flickering light across the uneven stone. The air was thick with an ancient energy, vibrating through their bones like an unspoken whisper.

Irelia and Nariel stepped cautiously inside, their weapons drawn. The murals stretched across the chamber, depicting swirling flames, phoenixes taking flight, and a lone figure wreathed in fire. The face had been worn away by time, eroded into an indistinct blur, but its presence remained powerful—commanding, otherworldly.

Nariel broke the silence, her voice low, wary. “This doesn’t feel like a tomb. It feels like a temple.”

Irelia nodded absently, her emerald eyes tracing the runes woven between the images. “It’s older than anything I’ve ever seen. The designs, the magic—they’re ancient.” Her fingers skimmed over the stone, reading the subtle energy thrumming beneath. “Whoever built this… they weren’t just preserving something. They were protecting it.”

She stepped closer to the wall, her fingers grazing the intricate lines of a phoenix mid-flight. The stone was unexpectedly warm beneath her touch—comforting, yet laced with something deeper, something pulsing with quiet intensity. A shiver ran through her as fragmented images flared to life behind her eyes.

Fire, roaring across a dying world. Cities crumbling into ash. The land scorched, breaking apart beneath an inferno that consumed everything in its path.

Then—

The flames receded. Not leaving ruin, but renewal. From the embers, life emerged. Where death had reigned, new beginnings took root.

Fire. Rebirth. Destruction. Renewal.

Irelia’s breath hitched, her pulse hammering as the visions flickered and faded, leaving only an ache in her chest.

“Pyraxis,” she whispered, the name escaping her lips like an incantation.

Nariel’s sharp blue eyes flicked toward her. “What did you say?”

Irelia didn’t answer immediately. She was transfixed by the carvings, her heart pounding as the visions intensified. The flames in the stone seemed to flicker, shifting under her gaze, alive with stories untold. She pulled her hand back sharply, her breathing uneven.

“Irelia,” Nariel’s voice was closer now, edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Irelia swallowed hard. “I know these runes,” she said, her voice tight. She turned to Nariel, her emerald eyes glinting with something between awe and unease. “I’ve seen them before.”

Nariel frowned. “Where?”

Irelia hesitated, the weight of her realization pressing down on her. She could feel the memories clawing at the edges of her mind, fragmented and elusive. “In my books,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “A trilogy I wrote… a long time ago.”

Nariel blinked, taken aback. “You mean—?”

“These runes,” Irelia gestured to the carvings, her voice thick with disbelief. “I thought I made them up. They were just symbols for a book cover. But they’re real. They’ve always been real.”

Her voice trembled, and for a moment, she seemed smaller, lost in the vastness of the revelation.

“The first book was about an outcast,” she continued, as if pulling the memories from a distant fog. “A half-elf, banished, who created the first runes. The second… an orc searching for a place, a kingdom. But the third…” She trailed off, frustration flickering across her face. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember what it was about.”

Nariel studied her carefully, the rigid lines of her posture softening. “And now you think… what? That your books weren’t just stories?”

“I don’t know,” Irelia admitted, her voice cracking. “But this? It’s not a coincidence. These runes, this place… it’s all connected. Pyraxis—whoever they were, whatever they are—they’re tied to me.”

Nariel was silent for a beat before stepping closer, placing a steadying hand on Irelia’s shoulder. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The moment stretched, the hum of magic filling the silence.

Irelia exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing—just slightly. “Right,” she murmured, forcing herself to breathe. “Together.”

As they ventured deeper into the chamber, the carvings became more intricate, their glow intensifying with each step. At the far end, a massive door loomed, embedded in the stone like a sentinel of ages past. Runes pulsed faintly across its surface, their rhythmic glow syncing with the magic thrumming through the chamber.

Irelia slowed her pace, her gaze locking onto the runes as she reached out, fingertips hovering just above them. “This isn’t just a door,” she murmured, her voice tinged with intrigue. “It’s a seal… a guardian, of sorts. It’s meant to keep something out—or something in.”

Nariel unsheathed her sword, shifting into a defensive stance. “And what happens when you break it?”

Irelia’s lips curved into a faint smirk, though it held no humor. “We find out.”

Her fingers brushed against the runes, tracing their delicate patterns with careful precision. The magic responded, its glow flaring to life. A deep tremor rumbled through the ground as the ancient mechanism stirred, the sound of grinding stone reverberating through the air.

Nariel stepped back, her grip firm on her sword as the door began to part. A rush of warm air slithered through the widening gap, thick with the scent of charred earth. Beyond the threshold, shadows twisted, shifting in the depths of whatever lay beyond.

Irelia’s hand fell to the hilt of her short sword, her pulse steady but quick. She met Nariel’s gaze, her voice unwavering despite the weight pressing down on them. “Ready?”

Nariel didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

With a final groan of ancient stone, the door creaked open fully, unleashing a wave of blistering heat.