MTLNOVEL Chapter 3: Into the Ruins
Chapter 3:Into the Ruins
The day stretched long as Lyra prepared for her journey into the heart of Whisperwood. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting dappled light through the trees that surrounded Emberbrook, but her thoughts were heavy. The path ahead felt uncertain, filled with dangers she could not yet fully comprehend. Despite Maelis's warning, a part of her felt oddly determined, like a spark within her had been ignited by the Wyrmstone itself.
She packed lightly, tucking the Wyrmstone deep into her satchel, wrapped in layers of cloth to hide its glow. The vial of healing salve that Maelis had given her was securely tucked into her belt, and she wore her sturdy boots, prepared for the uneven terrain of the forest. The knowledge of the temple's ruins, hidden deep in the woods, had her both excited and fearful. What would she find there? Would the ruins provide the answers she needed, or would they lead her deeper into a mystery she was unprepared for?
The village was quiet as she stepped beyond its borders, the houses shrinking behind her as she walked toward the edge of Whisperwood. The trees were thick here, their trunks twisted and ancient, their branches intertwining high above her head, blocking out most of the sunlight. A cool breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it a scent of earth and moss, mingling with something older, more primal.
Lyra paused for a moment, letting the forest settle around her, listening to the way the woods seemed to breathe. There was something about this place—a deep pulse beneath the surface—that she could feel in her bones. The forest was alive, ancient, and it had secrets. She knew that now. She wasn't just walking through a simple forest; she was stepping into a world of forgotten power.
The path through the woods was rough and tangled. Vines grew thick along the ground, and the underbrush made it difficult to move quickly. Lyra had been through Whisperwood many times before, but this time it felt different. The trees seemed to loom larger, their shadows deeper, and every rustle of leaves or crack of a branch made her heart race. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she felt an undeniable pull guiding her forward, urging her deeper into the woods.
After several hours of walking, the forest began to grow quieter. The birds that had sung through the morning air now fell silent, leaving only the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth. The sunlight, filtered through the thick canopy, was growing dimmer. Lyra quickened her pace, hoping to reach the temple ruins before nightfall. The thought of being in the heart of the forest after dark made her uneasy. The creatures Maelis had spoken of—the ones that stirred when the sun set—were still a mystery to her, but she knew that they weren't something she wanted to face alone.
As the forest thinned out, the ground beneath Lyra's feet grew more uneven, a sure sign she was approaching the area Maelis had described. She found herself at the base of a steep hill, its rocky surface cracked and eroded by time. A few paces further, the remnants of an old stone archway came into view, half-covered in moss and ivy. The ruins of the temple were now visible, rising from the earth like the bones of an ancient beast. Tall columns, broken and weathered, stood at odd angles, their once-proud structures now lying in decay. The temple's entrance was a massive stone door, cracked down the middle, its surface etched with faded, unfamiliar symbols.
Lyra felt a shiver crawl down her spine as she stepped forward, the silence of the ruins overwhelming. She instinctively reached for the Wyrmstone in her satchel, feeling its cool presence against her side. It pulsed faintly, as though it too could sense the power of this place. She couldn't help but wonder if it had been here before, in a time long past.
She approached the door cautiously, running her fingers over the symbols carved into the stone. The markings felt familiar, though she couldn't place why. They seemed to shimmer under her touch, as if alive. The air around her grew heavier, thick with the weight of history, the magic that had once filled this place.
"This is where it all began," she whispered to herself, her voice barely a breath against the wind.
The door seemed to hum in response, and before she could react, the ground beneath her shifted. A low rumble echoed from deep within the temple, like the sound of a slumbering giant waking from a long sleep. Lyra stepped back, her heart racing. The Wyrmstone in her satchel pulsed more rapidly now, as though reacting to the ancient power stirring inside the ruins.
Then, with a grinding sound that sent a shiver down her spine, the door began to open. Slowly, inch by inch, the massive stone slab creaked forward, revealing the darkness within. The interior of the temple was swallowed in shadow, the only light coming from the faint glow of the Wyrmstone in her hand.
Lyra hesitated for only a moment before she stepped forward, entering the temple. The air inside was thick and musty, and the floor was covered in dust, with the remnants of old tapestries hanging in tatters from the walls. Her footsteps echoed eerily as she made her way deeper into the heart of the temple, her fingers grazing the walls as she searched for anything that might explain the mysteries surrounding the Wyrmstone.
At the center of the temple, she found what she had been searching for—a large altar, carved from a single piece of stone. The altar was surrounded by a circle of strange runes, similar to the ones on the door. In the center of the altar, there was a deep indentation, as though something had once rested there. Lyra's breath caught in her throat as she realized what it was—a place meant for the Wyrmstone.
She moved toward the altar, her hand trembling as she reached for the Wyrmstone. The moment her fingers brushed against it, the temple seemed to come alive. The stone under her fingertips grew warm, and the runes surrounding the altar began to glow with a soft, pulsing light. The air hummed with power, and Lyra felt a wave of energy wash over her, as though the very foundations of the temple were shifting, awakening after centuries of dormancy.
A voice—deep and resonant, like the voice of the earth itself—echoed through the chamber.
"You have come. The time has come."
Lyra froze, her heart hammering in her chest. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, vibrating through the very air around her.
"The Wyrmstone has chosen you, Lyra. You are the key."
Before she could respond, the ground trembled once more, and the runes around the altar flared brightly. A rush of wind filled the chamber, and from the shadows emerged a figure—a figure shrouded in darkness, their eyes glowing with the same faint blue light as the Wyrmstone.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat as the figure spoke, their voice low and filled with an ancient power.
"You are not the only one seeking the Wyrmstone."