Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The Plateau of Fallen Stars greeted the Seventh Special Detachment with a piercing howl of wind that seemed born from the void itself. Snow didn't settle here; the icy gusts swept the plateau's basin clean, leaving exposed the black, fissured bedrock. As the knights passed the final ridge, the panorama of the Temple of True Equilibrium opened before them.
The structure was overwhelming in its scale. Five colossal pyramidal bases, built of grey, erosion-eaten stone, converged at the center, supporting a cyclopean dome. The Temple seemed part of the mountain range itself, an artificial peak erected in times when men still remembered the will of the Origins. Time had left deep scars on it: many outer columns had collapsed, turning into heaps of rubble, and the arches were covered in a network of cracks, like the wrinkles of an ancient elder.
"Commander," one of the knights spoke up, reining in his horse. "How could a place this huge have remained hidden for centuries? We've patrolled this sector hundreds of times, but there were only rocks here."
Grak the Axe stopped his horse at the cliff's edge. His heavy cloak beat in the wind, and his Herald-level gaze slowly scanned the ruins.
"Neither I nor anyone else in the Order knows the exact answer to that question," Grak rumbled. His voice sounded hollow from under his visor. "But to guess... Most likely, the Relic itself or some powerful structure inside the Temple blocked the possibility of its detection. This place was hidden by a dense veil, which time has finally begun to erode."
Kaedan listened to the commander's words, peering at the grey walls. His inner power, was taut as a bowstring. Over the past six months, his Unbreakable Armor had nearly been completed: the stone greaves, cuirass, pauldrons, and vambraces now felt like a natural extension of his skeleton. The young man felt the energy within his Vessel vibrate, reacting to the cold and the premonition of imminent battle.
"A Relic of Zantra the Dishonored..." Kaedan thought. "Something so powerful it could hide an entire Temple from the Order's eyes for hundreds of years. We need to find it before others do."
The detachment began a slow descent down a narrow, rocky path leading to the main entrance. The closer they got, the clearer it became that the ruins no longer belonged only to the past.
"Tracks," Iskon threw out curtly, walking in the vanguard.
The young man pointed to the slabs before the gate. The centuries-old dust was churned up by dozens of feet. Kaedan saw deep grooves from heavy crates and distinct prints of hobnailed boots that did not belong to the Knights of Order. A barely perceptible smell of ozone hung in the air—a sign that some magical force had recently been used here.
"Presumed enemies are already inside," Grak the Axe dismounted, and his heavy boots struck sparks from the stone. "They were in a hurry. Probably felt the veil lift and rushed for the loot, hoping to get there before the Order's main forces arrived."
Kaedan also dismounted. His armor was ready to materialize in response to a subconscious command. The young man felt the energy slowly distributing through his channels, preparing his body for sudden loads. Inside the Temple reigned a semi-darkness, from which emanated a frozen silence and the smell of dust.
"No traps," Grak stated, checking the sharpness of his axe blade. "Those who built this place relied on concealment, not mechanisms. Besides, time is the best destroyer. Anything that could have worked has long since turned to dust. But remember: the people currently prowling these halls are far more dangerous than any ancient arrows."
Iskon was the first to cross the threshold, his double-edged sword glinting dully in the shadow of the vault. Kaedan followed, feeling his heart beat slowly and steadily. He was ready for a clash. The thought that somewhere deep within this majestic structure lay a legendary artifact from Zantra's era spurred him on.
"Hold formation," Grak commanded, and the detachment of Warriors disappeared into the maw of the entrance portal.
The ancient Temple received them into its silent embrace. Kaedan looked at the high vaults and felt the energy of the space press upon his Armor. The mission to retrieve the Relic had begun. They didn't yet know that beneath these ruins, not only a weapon slumbered, but also secrets capable of overturning their understanding of power and justice.
Kaedan gripped the hilt of his sword. Ahead lay the darkness of the halls and enemies thirsting for the same as he. And in this clash, only the densest will could emerge victorious.