Igaris stepped beyond the stone threshold, where the whispers of time lingered like fading incense. Faint runes shimmered across the stone walls with remnants of ancient wards meant to deter the foolish and unworthy.
The moment he crossed the final gate, the environment changed.
It became heavier, thicker, as though every breath carried the presence of forgotten legacies.
He stood motionless.
Before him stretched a grand underground hall carved from obsidian rock. Pillars etched with dragon motifs lined the path ahead, and at the far end, a single sarcophagus stood upon a raised platform. It bore no name, no decoration, only silence and a pressure that rivaled a mountain.
This was the tomb of the First.
The Founder of the Soaring Dragon Sect: Jian Longchen.
Igaris approached with steady steps, his footsteps muted by the sacred earth. He knelt before the sarcophagus and placed a hand upon its surface. It was cold—unnaturally so.
He closed his eyes.
