The deeper we ventured, the less the Sanctum resembled anything human.
Gone were the walls of stone and intricate murals.
In their place loomed jagged cliffs, floating islands torn from the earth itself, and rivers of light and shadow twisting through the air like living things.
We moved carefully, each step calculated.
The bridge behind us had collapsed into mist the moment we crossed.
There was no turning back.
Finn stayed close, his eyes scanning every flicker of movement.
My senses stretched thin, the Gauntlet humming softly as if warning me of unseen dangers.
Somewhere ahead, the true heart of the Sanctum pulsed.
But it was not alone.
As we crossed a broken archway suspended above the abyss, a sound reached us.
A whisper.
Faint, like wind passing through a graveyard.
Yet the words were clear.
"Return… surrender… become…"
Finn shivered.
"You hear that, right?"
I nodded grimly.
The whispers grew stronger with each step, seeping into my mind like a slow poison.
Memories surfaced unbidden.
Old wounds.
Old fears.
The day my village burned.
The screams of people I had failed to save.
The faces of the fallen Wardens whose legacy I now bore.
I clenched my fists, forcing the images back.
It was an attack.
Not physical.
Psychological.
Finn stumbled beside me, his hand pressed against his temple.
"Can't... focus," he gasped.
I grabbed his shoulder.
"Stay with me," I said firmly.
The Gauntlet's light flared, pushing back the encroaching mist.
The whispers recoiled, hissing in frustration.
But they did not stop.
They never stopped.
The bridge ended at a massive doorway carved into a spire of stone.
Symbols lined the surface — ancient glyphs older than any Warden's memory.
The door pulsed with a sickly rhythm, as if breathing.
Finn steadied himself, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Do we really want to open that?"
I placed my hand against the cold stone.
"We have no choice," I said.
The moment my skin touched the surface, the door shuddered and began to open.
A shriek of grinding stone echoed through the void.
Beyond lay darkness.
Not the absence of light.
Something deeper.
Something alive.
I drew my sword and stepped inside.
Finn followed, muttering prayers under his breath.
The chamber beyond was vast, its ceiling lost to darkness.
In the center floated a crystalline sphere, cracked and bleeding streams of shadow.
Around it, dozens of figures knelt.
At first, I thought they were statues.
Then one shifted, revealing hollow eyes and twisted mouths.
They were not alive.
Nor were they truly dead.
Warden husks.
Drained of their will, their bodies trapped in eternal supplication.
Finn cursed softly.
"What the hell is this place?"
Before I could answer, the shadows stirred.
A figure emerged from the gloom, cloaked in tattered robes that seemed to bleed darkness.
I could not see its face.
Only a cold, merciless presence that pressed against my mind like an iron vice.
It spoke without moving its mouth.
"You are late, Last Warden."
The voice echoed inside my skull, sharp and cutting.
Finn raised his crossbow instinctively.
The figure ignored him, focusing solely on me.
"You carry the Gauntlet, bearer of the final oaths. You are an anomaly. An interruption."
I stood my ground.
"And you are?"
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"A whisper given form. A fragment of the true will that lies beyond."
I felt the Gauntlet vibrate violently, rejecting the thing's presence.
The figure drifted closer, its form blurring at the edges.
"Relinquish the burden," it said.
"Surrender the Gauntlet. Return to the cycle."
I tightened my grip on my blade.
"No."
The shadows thickened, the husks around the sphere beginning to rise.
Their hollow eyes locked onto me.
Finn swore and took a step back.
"We have a problem," he muttered.
The figure's presence intensified, crushing and oppressive.
"You cannot win," it said.
"You are alone."
I planted my feet firmly on the ground.
"I am not alone," I said quietly.
Behind me, Finn cocked his crossbow.
And within me, the echoes of the fallen Wardens stirred.
Their strength. Their hopes. Their sacrifices.
They were with me.
Always.
The figure recoiled slightly, as if sensing my resolve.
"So be it," it whispered.
The husks surged forward, a wave of broken bodies and corrupted oaths.
I raised my blade, the Gauntlet flaring with righteous fire.
"Finn!" I barked.
"Back to back!"
Without hesitation, he spun and covered my flank.
The first husk reached me, swinging a rusted blade.
I met the attack with a precise parry, driving my sword through its hollow chest.
It collapsed into dust.
More came.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Finn loosed bolt after bolt, each shot finding its mark.
But it was not enough.
The tide was endless.
The figure watched from the shadows, silent and patient.
This was a test.
Or a sacrifice.
And if we failed, we would join the husks forever.
I called upon the Gauntlet's new power.
The Oath of Deliverance flared to life, a pulse of pure light erupting from me.
The husks hesitated, recoiling from the radiance.
I seized the moment, carving a path through their ranks.
"Toward the sphere!" I shouted.
Finn followed, reloading frantically as we cut a desperate path forward.
The closer we drew to the sphere, the more the world twisted.
Gravity shifted.
Time seemed to stretch and snap.
But I pressed on.
At the heart of the Sanctum, at the center of this madness, was the key.
I could feel it.
And whatever lay beyond the crystal sphere, it was watching.
Waiting.
And it would not let us claim victory without a fight.