Fallen lay on the floor, trapped and helpless, before he gritted his teeth and gripped the spear-like branch that had narrowly missed his head, using it as a balancer to help himself stand. He stood, leaning against the twisted branch, his face covered in nicks and bruises. The blood on his left eye was dry, though the eye flickered and struggled to remain open. More blood flowed from his right arm and back onto the floor as his fragile frame struggled to hold up.

His back rose and fell as he panted and grunted, looking to the ruby eye, which stared back at him intently.

‘It’s you…’

The spear-like branch nicked and splintered beneath his grip as he tightened it. His legs shook from pain and exhaustion, but… he had to try… it was his only option.

‘I have to try.’ His gaze lowered to the altar, then rose back to the ruby eye.

‘That thing is behind it all.’

He took a deep breath as the eye followed him sharply, tracking his every move before he swallowed hard… and ran for it.

They immediately started coming, each spear whizzing through the air, glistening ominously in the ruby eye’s crimson glow.

He used all his energy to feign sprinting toward the altar, his ankle paining as he pushed on. The ruby eye frantically snapped down, and the spears aimed toward the base of the altar, where he feigned heading, and shot.

The ground beneath his feet crunched with each powerful, narrow miss of the spears, the air thick with tension and debris as the spear-like branches twisted and writhed, forming even more deadly projectiles. They shot at him with relentless precision, each one narrowly missing his fragile form.

He sprinted, almost reaching the base of the altar. It was a sight to behold, its solid dark structure carved meticulously from what appeared to be a single massive slab of obsidian. The surface was smooth and polished to a mirror-like finish, reflecting the bright crimson glow from the ruby eye above. Intricate patterns and runes were etched into the obsidian, their lines sharp and precise.

It stood firmly on four stout legs, each one adorned with small, glistening gemstones embedded in the obsidian. These gems caught the light, casting tiny, dancing reflections. The legs were carved to resemble twisted vines curling and intertwining with one another. The base was surrounded by a moat filled with a dark liquid that shimmered with a mystical glow. The liquid appeared almost alive, with tendrils of light swirling and pulsating beneath its surface.

Fallen kept sprinting towards it before suddenly veering off. The ruby eye above began to tremble with frantic confusion as Fallen pivoted back. Its steady, unblinking façade shattered as it darted erratically in every direction. The crimson glow that once suffused the shrine with eerie calm now pulsated wildly, casting chaotic, dancing shadows.

It watched Fallen’s form run, trying to stabilize itself to redirect the spears, which continued targeting the base of the altar. One of the spear-like branches shot with incredible force, hurtling toward the base. Its sharp, glistening tip caught the crimson light, and with a deafening clash, it struck the obsidian base of the altar, creating a burst of sparks upon impact.

The resounding crack echoed through the shrine as the spear splintered, shattering into countless pieces. The momentum of the strike sent the fragments flying in all directions, some landing in the moat surrounding the altar.

As the pieces of the broken spear plunged into the dark liquid, a strange reaction occurred. The liquid rippled and bubbled, emitting a low, ominous hum. Tendrils swirled and flickered, almost as if alive.

For a moment, the air thickened, the only sounds being the soft hiss of the bubbling liquid and distant echoes of the spear’s destruction.

Fallen stood, gripping his dagger as the dust finally cleared and the ruby eye stabilized.

“You need to make one swift snap to me to effectively direct your spears, don’t you?”

He grimaced as he gripped the dagger firmly in his right hand, a twisted grin of a madman creeping onto his lips. The dagger’s blade glistened in the dim light, reflecting the crimson glow.

With a swift motion using his uninjured left hand, Fallen whipped the chain at his side, the links clinking softly as they unfurled. The chain moved with fluid grace, his eyes focused and muscles tense.

“Tsk!” he felt a sharp pain shoot through his leg as he stepped forward, charging, gripping the dagger tight as the blood from his wound floated onto its hilt.

He felt the rush of air as spears narrowly missed him.

He sprinted with all he had, debris and chunks of the floor hitting his face and body relentlessly.

He charged towards the altar as the ruby eye finally snapped and sharpened on him. The barrage of spears doubled before he, with a determined grunt, tightened his grip on his chain-hilt dagger, the metal links clinking softly in his hands.

Every muscle in his body strained with effort and screamed from the pain. As he neared the altar’s base, he leapt into the air, using one of the fallen embedded spears as leverage. His feet barely touched the ground before he propelled himself higher.

The ruby eye watched him with its returned unblinking gaze, sending more spears toward him. But before any of them could even graze his skin…

Swinging the dagger’s chain with his left hand, he whirled it above his head before letting go of the dagger itself in his right and holding the chain at its very edge, on the small black ball. As if it were a whip, he whirled it and sent it flying toward the ruby eye. In a second, the chain whistled through the air, followed by the satisfying thunk as the dagger struck true. The ruby eye shuddered as Fallen’s exhausted body fell into the moat at the base. His vision blurred as the cold, thick liquid enveloped him, a metallic tang filling his mouth and nostrils.

He struggled to stay afloat, but his strength was rapidly waning. The tendrils swirled around him, their eerie, faint glow casting ghostly patterns on his skin. His limbs grew heavy, and his movements became sluggish. As the darkness closed in, his nostrils drooped, and his breathing slowed as his blood mixed with the liquid. The last thing he heard was the distant, echoing shriek of the ruby eye, its frantic energy fading into silence.

The world around him faded, and he lost consciousness, sinking into the depths of the moat, a faint alabaster glow emitting from his chest.

Above, perched atop the altar, the ruby eye moved frantically, accompanied by an unsettling, high-pitched whine, almost like a keen wail. It seemed to sense the dagger embedded in its core, and its reaction was one of pure agony.

The crimson light intensified, flaring and dimming in rapid succession, creating an unsettling strobe effect throughout the shrine. As the eye’s movement became more frenzied, the surrounding crimson branches twisted and contorted as if reacting to its distress. They writhed and coiled, their spear-like tips thrashing in the air as if trying to fend off an invisible attacker.

The once methodical, relentless attack of the spears became erratic and disordered, mirroring the ruby eye’s frantic struggle. The whole shrine seemed to pulse with the eye’s agony, a palpable tension filling the air.

The high-pitched whine crescendoed into a piercing shriek, echoing off the obsidian walls. The eye’s crimson light flickered one last time before dimming to a dull, defeated glow, signalling the end of its frantic struggle as the crimson trees and their branches slowly shrivelled to dust and ash… freeing the shrine from their twisted clutches.