The hidden chamber below Silvermoon seemed to breathe in the quiet shadows. The only sound was the faint hum of magic, reverberating through the stone walls, and the slow, deliberate steps of Matrim as he moved closer to the pedestal. The crystal atop it glowed with an eerie light, casting shifting patterns on the walls that seemed to come alive in the dim space. The pull he had felt since his arrival in Silvermoon was now undeniable, drawing him closer to the artifact with an intensity that was almost painful.

  As his fingers brushed against the cool surface of the crystal, a surge of energy shot through him, blurring his vision. For a moment, he felt untethered, as though his very being was being pulled into the heart of Silvermoon itself, into a past long forgotten. Flashes of strange symbols, ancient rites, and images of the city in its primordial state filled his mind. The connection was overwhelming, as if the city's magic was claiming him, binding him to its deepest secrets.

  But before he could make sense of what he was experiencing, a sound shattered the silence—a soft, measured footstep behind him. His heart skipped, and instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of his sword, though he didn’t draw it yet. Whoever it was, they had been following him.

  Matrim turned, his eyes scanning the shadows, and there she stood—draped in the armor of a Guardian. Her figure was tall and imposing, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. She had followed him, and now, she was standing between him and the only exit, blocking his way with a gaze sharp enough to cut through stone.

  For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension in the room was palpable, thick and suffocating. Matrim’s breath was shallow, the adrenaline of his discovery quickly replaced by the sharp sting of hostility. There was no mistaking her purpose here—this wasn’t a chance encounter. She had been watching him, perhaps even tracking him from the moment he set foot in the city.

  “Did you really think you could just walk into this place and take whatever you wanted?” she asked, her voice cold, laced with a clear hostility. “What is it that you think you’ve found, outsider? Do you even understand what you’re tampering with?”

  Matrim didn’t flinch. He had faced threats from far worse than a Guardian. But there was something in her voice, a dangerous edge, that made him hesitate. “I’m not here to steal anything,” he said, his tone sharp but measured. “I’m here because I was led here. Something—someone—pulled me toward this place. I’m trying to understand why.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, her posture rigid with the authority of someone who had seen countless battles. “Understand? You don’t belong here. None of you do.” The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. This place, this power—it’s not meant for someone like you.”

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  Matrim bristled at her words, the sharpness of her accusation striking a nerve. “And you? What makes you think you’re any different? You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to uncover Silvermoon’s secrets?”

  She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, her gaze unwavering. “I protect the city,” she said, her words slow and deliberate, as though each one carried the weight of a burden. “You? You’re just another stranger stumbling through a city that’s already broken. If you truly think you can just waltz in and claim its power for yourself, you’re gravely mistaken.”

  Matrim’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword, though he didn’t draw it. The anger was rising in him, but he was careful. He couldn’t afford to make a rash move—not with her standing there, blocking the way out, and certainly not with the way her eyes pierced through him like a weapon. This wasn’t just a confrontation; it was a warning.

  “I’m not here to take anything. I’m trying to figure out what this is,” he gestured toward the crystal, “and why it feels like I’ve been walking into it my entire life.”

  The woman didn’t respond at first. Instead, she studied him, her eyes assessing him in a way that made Matrim feel exposed, as though she was looking into the very depths of his soul. Finally, she spoke again, her voice colder this time, tinged with a bitterness that sent a chill down his spine.

  “You want answers?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a price for those.”

  Matrim’s chest tightened. “I’m not afraid of a price.”

  “Good,” she said, her eyes flashing with something darker, something more dangerous. “Because the price you’ll pay for understanding is far steeper than you realize.”

  The air between them crackled, as though something in the very fabric of the chamber had shifted. For a moment, it felt like the walls themselves were watching them, waiting for the next move. Matrim could see the determination in her eyes, and it was clear she wasn’t here to debate with him. She had already made her decision. She wasn’t going to let him leave with this knowledge—whatever it was.

  Before Matrim could react, she reached for something at her belt, pulling free a pair of manacles with a swift motion. “You’re coming with me,” she said, her voice no longer laced with anger, but with cold, unyielding authority.

  Matrim took a step back, but his retreat was met with a flick of her wrist—suddenly, the space between them seemed to warp, and an invisible force gripped him, slamming him into the stone wall. He gasped, his body held fast by an unseen power, and in that moment, he realized how much he had underestimated her.

  Her eyes met his, unblinking, as she approached with measured steps. “You’ve made a grave mistake by coming here, outsider. The city’s secrets are not yours to claim.”

  He struggled, but the force that held him in place was too strong, and before he could make another attempt, she placed the manacles around his wrists. The cold iron bit into his skin, and the weight of them made him feel even more trapped than before.

  “You’ll answer for your intrusion,” she said, her voice low. “And you’ll do so in the only way Silvermoon knows how—by facing its judgment.”

  With a final, cold glance, she tugged him away from the pedestal, dragging him back toward the stairwell. Matrim, powerless in her grip, felt the weight of her words settle heavily over him. There would be no understanding here, no answers. Not yet.

  But as he was pulled from the chamber, one thought burned in his mind—the pull had led him here, and it would not release him so easily.