The chamber was vast, larger than anything Edward had expected to find beneath the mountain. His lantern's dim light spilt outward, brushing across towering pillars and walls carved with endless engravings. The air felt heavy here, old and still, as though the mountain itself was holding its breath.
He stepped forward slowly, boots echoing against the smooth stone floor. The chamber stretched in every direction, its walls disappearing into shadow. Every surface was marked with symbols, circles, and spiralling lines that wound together in strange patterns that made his eyes ache if he stared too long.
In the centre stood a single altar.
It was small, only waist-high, but every inch of its surface was covered in the same ancient carvings. There was no dust, no offerings, no relics, only the cold, empty stone.
"Some of this looks similar to elvish," Elarien murmured as she stepped closer to one of the walls, fingers tracing the lines. "But not enough to make any sense of it."
