The air inside the Sanctuary was different. Heavier. Older.

Arlen could barely breathe as he followed Aeloria through the endless corridors, his footsteps echoing against walls that seemed not made of stone, but solidified light. Light Crystals hung from the ceiling like constellations caught in eternal motion, casting dancing patterns across the polished floor. Each one pulsed in a slow rhythm, as if they were hearts beating in unison with something much larger, much deeper.

And the walls…

Gods, the walls.

They weren’t simply adorned with engravings—they told stories. Images carved in relief so vivid they seemed ready to leap from the surface. Arlen reached out, his fingers trembling, almost touching the figure of a tall, slender being with eyes as large as full moons, holding an object that resembled the Creator’s Amulet. The image was shrouded in an aura of runes he couldn’t read, but he could feel them, as if they were whispering directly into his mind.

“These engravings tell the story of Aurion,” Aeloria said, her voice echoing as if it were coming from far away. Our ancestors came from the stars, Arlen. They brought with them knowledge of a world that no longer exists.”

Arlen didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on a scene carved ahead: a fleet of sleek ships, elongated as silver needles, streaking across a sky filled with twin suns. Below them, a city burned.

“What happened to them?” he asked, his voice almost fading.

Aeloria paused. Her normally impenetrable blue eyes clouded for a moment.

“They destroyed themselves.”

The answer was simple, but the weight of it made Arlen’s stomach churn.

“A war?”

“An obsession.” — She lifted her hand, running her fingers over a series of runes that glowed faintly at her touch. They sought the power of the Makers, those who came before all. But some knowledge... some power... is not meant for mortal hands.

Arlen glanced at the Amulet on his chest. It was now pulsing in sync with the crystals above, as if responding to something.

“And this amulet...”

“It is a fragment.” Aeloria turned, her white robes flowing gently, as if she herself were not entirely subject to gravity. A piece of the key they so desired. And now it is with you.”

Arlen swallowed. The weight of that responsibility was like an anchor tied to his chest.

“Why me?”

Aeloria did not answer immediately. Instead, she continued walking, leading him deeper into the Sanctuary. The corridor opened up into a colossal chamber, so vast that Arlen could barely see the other side. In the center rose a structure he could only describe as a cosmic altar—a circular platform, engraved with symbols that moved, rearranging themselves like pieces in a divine game. Above it, floating without any visible support, was a hologram of an unknown planet, its layers slowly rotating.

“This is the Heart of the Sanctuary,” Aeloria said, her voice now filled with a solemnity that made the hairs on Arlen’s arms stand on end. Here, the past and the future meet.

Arlen felt something then—a presence. As if something much larger were watching him through those ancient walls.

And then, without warning, the runes on the floor began to glow.

The Amulet of the Creator burned against his chest, and a voice that was not a voice but an understanding directly in his mind echoed:

“Are you ready?”

Arlen did not know the answer.

But the Sanctuary seemed to know it already.