As they ascended the spiraling stone steps, the weight of what Riven had just seen pressed against his thoughts. The Codex of the Fallen—Velmorian's personal grimoire—sealed within a temple that unknowingly worshipped his own legacy. The irony was almost laughable.
Almost.
He kept his expression neutral as Elara led him deeper into the temple's halls, their path winding through dimly lit corridors lined with more towering bookshelves and shadowy figures whispering over ancient tomes. The magic here was alive, thrumming beneath his skin like a second pulse.
Elara glanced at him. "I imagine this is a lot to take in."
Riven offered a half-smirk. "Oh, you have no idea."
Nyx, still lingering in his shadow, was less composed. 'I swear to all the abyssal gods, if you don't go back and take that book—'
'Not now.' Riven's tone was firm.
