That night, Myrelion descended into the Forgotten Catacombs beneath Blightrest, accompanied only by Elin, who offered her bow with a silent nod.
The tunnels were damp and suffocating, lined with bones. Symbols of the Hollow Flame pulsed faintly along the stone.
As they moved deeper, Myrelion's senses sharpened. He remembered this place—it had once been a hideout for the Order's outcasts.
Then he heard it—chanting.
They crept toward a chamber where hooded cultists circled a stone altar, ichor dripping from ritual blades. Upon it lay a child, eyes wide with terror.
The lead cultist raised his blade. "Through this offering, we awaken the Echo."
Myrelion moved.
Nyxfang buried itself in the cultist's throat before the others even screamed.
Elin fired with ruthless grace. Bodies fell. Shadows danced.
But it wasn't over.
The altar split open, revealing a hidden stairwell glowing with violet light.
Elin glanced at Myrelion. "What now?"
"We go deeper."
At the stair's end was a chamber bathed in crystal light. At its center hovered a sealed coffin etched with symbols—ancient void runes Myrelion had only ever seen once.
"This is Ereval's Tomb," he whispered.
"Who's Ereval?" Elin asked.
"…The first Shadow Lord. My predecessor."
Suddenly, whispers filled the chamber. Shadows pooled at the coffin's base.
And from the dark, a voice echoed:
> "You were never the end, Myrelion. Only the vessel."
The coffin creaked.
Myrelion backed away. "We need to leave. Now."
As they fled, the tomb trembled. The coffin split slightly.
And from within… a single glowing eye opened.