The Dying Arcane

The temple stood at the heart of the ruins, its blackened pillars reaching toward the storm-laden sky. Ronan approached cautiously, every sense on high alert. The doors had been forced open, and a trail of fresh blood stained the cracked stone steps.

Someone had come before him.

And they hadn't left unscathed.

He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The chamber was vast, lined with statues of forgotten deities, their faces worn smooth by time. At the far end, a figure knelt before an altar, a faint aura of magic swirling around them.

A woman.

She turned as he entered, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes, a striking violet, locked onto him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"You're late," she said, her voice smooth as silk.

Ronan didn't lower his guard. "You were expecting me?"

The woman smirked, rising to her feet. She was clad in dark robes, intricate runes embroidered along the fabric. Around her wrists, shackles of arcane energy pulsed faintly—a sign of someone who had been bound by magic.

"I knew someone would come," she said, stepping closer. "The seal was broken. The wraiths were released. And now, the city stirs once more."

Ronan frowned. "Who are you?"

The woman tilted her head, studying him. "My name is Lyara. I was once the High Seer of this city. Before it fell. Before it was cursed."

She extended a hand toward him. "And I know why you're here."

Ronan didn't move. "You know nothing about me."

Lyara chuckled. "Don't I?" She gestured toward the wraiths' remains outside. "You seek power. The kind that only those willing to embrace the past can wield."

His jaw tightened. "And what do you get out of this?"

Her eyes gleamed. "A chance to break my chains. A chance to rewrite fate."

Ronan remained silent, weighing his options. There was something off about her—something that set his instincts on edge.

But she had knowledge.

And in this world, knowledge was power.

After a long pause, he sheathed his sword.

"I'm listening."

Lyara smiled.

"Good. Then let me show you what lies ahead."

As she raised her hand, the altar behind her ignited with ethereal fire, revealing visions of a war yet to come.

And in the heart of that battle—Ronan saw himself.