The Guardian
The warped temple loomed before them, a grotesque mockery of the majestic structure depicted in ancient scrolls. Its once gleaming white marble was now fractured and marred, tendrils of dark energy pulsing from its core like malevolent veins. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the unsettling whispers that had guided them here.
Shania, her hand instinctively reaching for the amulet that pulsed faintly against her chest, felt a shiver crawl down her spine. "This place..." she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Leor, his brow furrowed in concern, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Unearthly, isn't it? But whispers are just that – whispers. We can't be certain."
Azarath, his gaze fixed on the temple, remained silent. His usual stoicism seemed strained, a flicker of something akin to dread flickering in his fiery red eye.