THE LOST MAGIC KINGDOM

The temple was buried deep in the forest, hidden behind walls of ivy and centuries of neglect. As they entered, Kael could feel the oppressive weight of the place. It was ancient, forgotten, but still… alive. The walls hummed with magic. His hand brushed against the stone, and a faint chill ran through his fingers.

"What is this place?" Kael whispered. "It feels… wrong."

Erya glanced around, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "This is the forgotten temple of Eryndor. You're standing in the ruins of a kingdom lost to time. Don't think for a second that you're not being watched."

Kael felt the weight of her words. As they moved deeper into the temple, the map began to pulse in his hand, guiding him forward.

He stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. "These carvings... they tell the story of Eryndor. The rise and fall of its kings... and…" Kael's voice faltered. "The end of magic?"

Erya stepped closer, reading the ancient symbols with practiced ease. "Not just the end of magic. The fall of a kingdom so powerful, it fractured the very fabric of the world. They didn't just forget Eryndor—they erased it."

Kael shook his head. "Why? What happened?"

Before she could answer, a gust of wind rushed through the temple, blowing dust into Kael's face. He coughed, but when he looked up, something had changed. The shadows on the walls seemed to move, twisting into forms that weren't there before.

"We need to leave. Now." Erya's voice was tense.

But Kael was frozen, his eyes fixed on the ever-changing carvings. "It's calling me…"