[System Alert!!]

  [Hidden Threat detected. Please proceed carefully, or you'll receive serious repercussions!]

  "Okay, okay," Eamon said quietly before stepping inside with the others. The inside of the hole was covered in thick branches, making it hard to see anything except for a faint red glow. They all frowned, trying to figure out where the glow was coming from. They kept moving through the tunnel, following the weak glow until it disappeared and they couldn't hear anything. After a few moments of silence, they moved carefully down the tunnel until they reached a fork in the path.

  [Difficulty Level: SSS]

  [Difficulty level increased due to the path you choose]

  The tunnel ended suddenly, as if it had been cut off from the earth itself. Its path was blocked by a smooth, hard stone wall. The cold, damp air of the tunnel was replaced by a strange stillness, and the silence felt heavy, pressing down on everything. At the end of the tunnel, the stone wall was smooth but showed signs of age, forming an unexpected barrier. For a moment, it felt like the tunnel had no purpose at all. Then, as their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they realized the truth: this was no ordinary wall.

  It was the entrance to something much older. They took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled before carefully moving toward the wall. Their hearts raced faster as they got closer, but the wall stayed still, even though their hearts should have been pounding in their ears by now. They took one last step toward the threshold, almost there. Then, without warning, they were pulled forward. The floor suddenly gave way beneath them, and they fell into darkness. Their screams stayed trapped inside. They quickly reached for the rock wall, and after a few seconds, when their vision cleared, they realized they were in a huge chamber—a very large room.

  They slowly stepped into the space, and the narrow corridor opened up into a huge, circular chamber, its edges fading into the darkness beyond. The room wasn’t huge like a cavern, but the air felt impossibly vast, as if the design of the space was meant to make them feel completely isolated. The walls were perfectly round, their curves incredibly smooth, as though shaped by an invisible hand with a skill that seemed impossible. There were no seams, no joins—just the smooth sweep of stone, giving the illusion that the room went on forever.

  The stone walls were covered in ancient, faded murals—so worn that they were almost impossible to see clearly. Some looked like old runes, while others had intricate patterns that seemed to shift, hinting at a forgotten language. Elowen whispered softly, barely audible, to anyone listening closely, though the meanings had long been lost. The murals told the story of an ancient world—one filled with mysticism, sun worship, and the cosmic forces of nature. They weren’t just pictures; they were stories, rich with meaning, woven together like threads in a timeworn tapestry, waiting to be understood.

  The murals stretched across the walls, their shapes flowing with the natural curves of the chamber. Some were bold and clear, their lines sharp and well-defined, while others had blurred and faded over time, as though the years had tried to erase them. But even in their worn state, they seemed to pulse with a strange energy, as if the stone still remembered what was once vivid and powerful. They stepped closer and began to examine them.

  [Progress: Entering Into The Tunnel – 0%]

  Progress: The First Mural – The Creation of the World

  The first mural was positioned near the base of the chamber’s walls, close to the floor where the stone was still mostly intact. It showed the Creation—the moment the world came into being, shaped by cosmic forces.

  In the center of one panel, a massive sun took over the scene, its rays spreading out in a powerful burst of energy. But this sun wasn’t just a sphere of fire; it was a god, its form crowned with rays that twisted into intricate, almost living shapes. The figure seemed to hold both power and sorrow in its gaze, as if it were both the creator and the one who had been sacrificed. Below this radiant figure, two smaller gods were kneeling—one with features of the sea, long, serpent-like waves wrapping around its body, and the other a celestial being with the delicate shape of the moon. They were offering gifts to the sun: water, in the form of curling waves, and light, in the form of sparkling stars.

  Elowen stood before the mural, her eyes wide and focused, as if she could see something hidden beneath the surface of the intricate scene. Eamon noticed the intensity in her gaze and, unable to hold back his curiosity, asked, "Can you read it?"

  She nodded slowly, her voice soft but filled with awe. "This... this is the creation. The birth of the world itself."

  Kael frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied the details. The scene felt almost alive to him, the figures etched into the stone seeming to vibrate with energy. "It looks like the sun was alive," he said slowly, his voice a mix of wonder and caution. "Like it was a god or something. And those other two figures—the sea and moon gods—they were offering something to it. Water and light?"

  Eamon stepped closer, his fingers lightly touching the cold stone as he tried to understand its meaning. There was something unsettling about the image, a tension in the way the figures were arranged. "But there's something strange about it," he murmured. "It feels like the sun wasn’t just giving life. It seemed like it was also taking something away—like it demanded a price."

  Kael nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah," he said slowly. "The way the sun's face looked—powerful, but sad... like it knew there was something it had to give up, but it did it anyway. Almost like it had accepted it." He crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowing as he studied the scene once more.

  Elowen, still focused on the mural, gave a small, knowing nod. Her voice was gentle but certain. "Exactly. The sun wasn’t just creating. It was sacrificing too. You could see it in the way its rays twisted, almost like they were part of the sacrifice—organic, mixed with the very essence of life. And the sea god..." She paused for a moment, her eyes lingering on the figure. "You could tell it was desperate. Its body formed these long, curling waves, but it was kneeling to the sun like it was bound by some invisible force."

  Kael’s gaze shifted to the moon god, his expression thoughtful. "And what about the moon? It looked so fragile. Like it held the most delicate light. Why would it offer its light here?" His voice was filled with confusion, as though trying to make sense of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

  Elowen took a deep breath, her fingers gently tracing the faint lines of the moon god’s image. "The moon’s offering was light, but it was so small, so faint compared to the sun. It was like it was giving everything it had left, knowing it might never get anything back. The gifts—the water, the light—felt like they were given out of desperation, as though they had no choice but to offer them." Her voice softened, the weight of her words settling heavily in the stillness of the room. "The rhyme beneath the mural... it warned of a price that was hidden, one that wasn’t clear at first. That price might have been the reason the gods were forgotten in the end."

  _"At the heart of the sun, the first spark did gleam,

  In the cradle of light, where the gods once did dream.

  But the gift they did give, with a price left unseen,

  Now lies in the hands of the stone guardians' scheme."_

  They read the rhyme etched beneath the mural, the words seeming to echo in the air, as if the very chamber itself was vibrating with them.

  [Progress: Entering Into The Tunnel – 40%]

  Balthazar, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke, his voice uneasy. "And what did the guardians have to do with all this? The stone guardians? They must have been part of the price too, right?"

  Elowen’s gaze shifted toward the stone guardians depicted in the background. Her eyes narrowed as she studied their presence. They stood silent and watchful, their stone eyes seeming to follow them. "I think so," she said, her tone darkening. "The guardians were the ones who held whatever was given—what the gods lost, what they gave up for creation." She paused, her voice taking on a warning edge. "This room, these murals, they were warning us. It was a cycle that started with creation, but the gods’ bargain—this... this ‘price’—wasn't over. It was still binding them, and it was still binding this place."

  A heavy silence settled over them as the weight of her words sank in. Kael felt a chill crawl down his spine, the air in the chamber growing thicker, more oppressive. Elowen's voice grew softer, almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in her words. "We had to be careful."

  As they studied the scene, a sense of harmony and balance hung in the air, but it was overshadowed by an undeniable tension. The gods offered their gifts willingly, yet there was an undertone of desperation, as if the gift-giving wasn’t entirely voluntary, but part of a deeper covenant or sacrifice. It felt like a fragile balance—like the power being shared could just as easily be taken away, teetering on the edge of something far darker.

  Progress: The Second Mural – The Rise of the Thalassain Kingdom

  Higher up, as the murals ascended toward the midsection of the chamber, they began to depict the rise of the Thalassain Kingdom—the once-great civilization that had inhabited this land. These murals were far more detailed, and the transition from celestial beings to human forms was striking.

  One panel showed human kings and queens standing proudly before a massive stone temple, with a great sun-shaped symbol emblazoned across the entrance. The rulers were depicted in regal attire, their bodies elongated and exaggerated, highlighting their divine status. In their hands, they held ceremonial objects—one king carried a sunstone, a glowing stone that faintly shimmered in the presence of light, while a queen held a crescent-shaped mirror that reflected the celestial bodies above.

  Alongside the kings and queens, priests and priestesses were shown performing rituals in the open air, their arms raised to the sky in worship of the sun. The solar imagery was impossible to miss—small sun-shaped amulets adorned the figures, radiating light toward the divine forms. However, a noticeable change in the mood of these murals appeared. Where the earlier depictions of the gods had felt harmonious, these now carried a sense of imbalance. The people of Thalassa were reaching for the divine, but their attempts seemed imperfect, as if they were striving for something beyond their grasp.

  One particularly striking mural depicted the Thalassain high priests preparing a grand sacrifice, gathered around a massive stone altar. Atop the altar rested a symbol of the sun—a sunstone heart, pulsing with faint energy, surrounded by a ring of ceremonial candle jars, each containing a Wickwing butterfly trapped inside. The high priests' faces were hidden behind sun symbols, their postures reverent and solemn.

  This scene hinted at a darker side of the kingdom's solar worship—a ritualistic sacrifice performed to ensure the continued favor of the sun god and bind the kingdom’s prosperity to the celestial forces. There was a shadowy, mysterious energy surrounding these rituals, as if the gods had begun to demand more in exchange for their blessings, and the kingdom was paying a heavy price to maintain their favor.

  Kael stood in front of the mural, his eyes narrowing as he studied the intricate details of the figures. The kings and queens etched into the stone seemed to shimmer with an unnatural quality. "These rulers..." he muttered, his voice low, "they didn’t look human anymore." He stepped closer, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "Their bodies, they're so elongated... almost alien. Like something’s gone wrong."

  Eamon, who had been studying the same scene, leaned in with quiet contemplation. He tilted his head, squinting at the figures. "It’s like they were trying to elevate themselves, reach something divine. They wanted to become like gods, but the more I look at it, the more it feels wrong. Like they were mimicking the gods, trying to copy them rather than worship them." He shook his head slightly, disturbed by the implications. "It doesn’t sit right."

  Balthazar pointed toward the stone temple etched into the wall, his voice heavy, as though trying to connect the dots. "Look at that sun symbol on the temple. It’s central to everything. Almost as if they thought the entire kingdom revolved around it. Their lives, their culture—everything was built around that symbol."

  Elowen, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, yet carried an air of certainty, as if she had spent years unraveling a long-forgotten mystery. "That’s exactly it. This is the Thalassain Kingdom at its height, when they truly believed their rulers were gods. Look at how they’ve depicted themselves. Their bodies are stretched, exaggerated, their garments almost otherworldly. Everything about them screams that they believed they were the direct representatives of the sun god. The king’s sunstone wasn’t just an artifact. It was a symbol—a direct link between the rulers and the divine. It was said to glow faintly in the light, a constant reminder of their connection to the sun."

  Kael shifted his gaze from the rulers to the priests and priestesses in the mural. A sense of unease settled over him as he traced their forms. "And those rituals? What’s with the butterflies? And the altar... it looks... wrong." He frowned, trying to put words to the growing discomfort in his chest. "There's something off about the whole thing. It's like they're trying to force a connection with the divine, but it's twisted. The butterflies... they’re not just part of the ritual. They’re trapped. It feels more like... a sacrifice than an offering."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Elowen’s eyes lingered on the scene, her expression thoughtful, but there was something darker in her gaze now. "The rituals were part of their core belief system—solar worship. But this... this is where things began to take a darker turn. The high priests weren’t just performing rituals; they were preparing for a sacrifice." She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "They offered something precious to the sun god to ensure the kingdom’s prosperity. See the sunstone heart on the altar? It wasn’t just symbolic. It was powerful, almost like the very heart of the sun god itself. And the butterflies—they weren’t just decoration. The Wickwing butterflies were known for their delicate nature. They symbolized life, death, transformation... and the sacrifice of something beautiful for a greater purpose."

  Balthazar frowned, his gaze flicking between the altar and Elowen. His voice was tight with disbelief. "They were willing to sacrifice living creatures for the favor of their gods?" His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the idea. "How far would they go to keep that power?"

  Elowen nodded slowly, her eyes darkening with a somber understanding. "Yes. But it didn’t stop there. Look closely. The faces of the priests are obscured by sun symbols. They were no longer individuals. They had become instruments of the sun's will. They weren’t human anymore, not truly. The entire scene feels oppressive, like the kingdom had surrendered itself completely to their worship. The gods weren’t just offering blessings anymore—they were demanding more. And the people... the people were paying a terrible price."

  Kael felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the figures. It was as though the murals had come alive, pulling him into their dark story. He glanced at Eamon, then back at Elowen. "Do you think the people of Thalassa knew what they were paying? The price they were giving to the gods?"

  Elowen's gaze softened, a trace of sorrow in her eyes. "I don’t think they fully understood," she said quietly. "They were so consumed by their belief, their desire for the gods’ favor, that they couldn’t see how it was changing them—how it was draining them. In the end, the price was too high, and it cost them more than just their lives. It cost them their humanity."

  Elowen exhaled deeply, her eyes searching the walls as if looking for an answer she already knew. Her voice was quieter now, almost mournful. "I’m not sure. But as we move through these murals, it feels more and more like they were trapped. The rulers, the priests—they thought they were in control, that they could manipulate the gods to their will. But the more they gave, the more the gods took. It’s a dangerous game, trying to bind yourself to celestial forces. Thinking you can control them. The Thalassain Kingdom believed they were elevating themselves, but in reality, they were sinking deeper and deeper into a pact they couldn’t escape."

  Balthazar’s expression grew tense, his jaw tight. His voice trembled slightly with the weight of what they were uncovering. "And what happened when the gods took more than they gave back? When the price became too high? The kingdom was doomed, wasn’t it?" He said, his gaze falling to the rhyme etched into the stone:

  _"Rulers arose in the light's steady glow,

  The heart of the kingdom, in radiance did grow.

  But in shadows they lingered, and shadows did show,

  As the golems' cold eyes began to bestow."_

  The words stayed in the air, like a warning, their meaning deep and hard to understand, as if the stone itself carried the weight of the kingdom’s future.

  [Progress: Entering Into The Tunnel – 60%]

  Elowen looked at the next set of paintings, her eyes filled with the knowledge of what was coming. She didn’t answer right away, but her silence said a lot. Finally, she whispered, her voice full of the weight of history. "It had to happen. This... this is where things started to go wrong. Right here, at this moment. The kingdom thought they were moving up, but really, they were already starting to fall."

  Progress: The Third Mural – The Descent and Betrayal

  As they moved higher on the wall, the paintings became more chaotic and hard to understand. The once strong bond between the gods and people started to break apart. The sun, which had been shown as kind and helpful in earlier murals, now looked distant and strange, its image twisted. In one especially shocking panel, the sun was crying, its tears falling from the sky like burning rain, setting the land below on fire.

  At the same time, the images of the Thalassain rulers began to blur—their once strong forms now weak and broken, their faces filled with pain. Around the sun, the sea god rose in anger, its shape growing huge like a giant serpent from the ocean. The moon goddess, who had once been calm and peaceful, was now shown as a dark shadow, her pale face twisted and filled with sorrow.

  In the middle of this chaotic section, one image stood out—a huge, blackened stone heart, broken into nine pieces, its fragments scattered across the scene. The murals seemed to show the moment of betrayal: the gods leaving, pulling away from the people of Thalassa, and the heart that had been taken from the figure, now hidden in the shadows of the chamber. The people of Thalassa, once rulers of a great kingdom, were now shown as empty shells, their eyes filled with fear and confusion, reaching out for the nothingness left by their lost gods.

  There was a strong feeling of loss in these murals—the gods had abandoned the kingdom, leaving behind a cursed, broken land. The people had given everything, but in return, they had been left behind.

  Eamon's eyes moved over the chaotic murals, his gaze widening in shock. "This... this isn’t like what we saw before," he whispered, stepping back. "The sun, the gods—they look... twisted."

  Kael’s voice was tight, his unease clear. "It’s like they turned against the people. Look at the sun—it’s crying. Those tears... they’re burning everything below." He clenched his fists, his heart heavy with dread. "What happened to the relationship between the gods and the Thalassains?"

  Elowen’s face grew serious as she ran her hand over the images, her voice somber. "This... this is where it all went wrong. The gods, once kind and powerful, became distant and angry. The sun, which was once a symbol of life and creation, is now weeping, its tears like fire. It’s a sign of betrayal—something went horribly wrong. The gods took away their favor, and the people were left to face the consequences. It’s as if the gods had just given up on them."

  Balthazar’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as he studied the figures. "And these rulers... they look so different now. Their faces are twisted, their forms fading. What happened to them?"

  Elowen’s voice softened, as if she could feel the weight of their pain. "The rulers of Thalassa were no longer divine. They were still holding onto their power, but the bond they once had with the gods was falling apart. As the sun turned against them, they were left powerless—unable to keep what they once had. Their faces became unclear, filled with pain and confusion. The gods had withdrawn, and they were left with nothing." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the loss that echoed through the room.

  Eamon pointed toward the sea god and the moon goddess, his expression troubled as he examined their forms. "And these gods—look at the sea god. It’s huge, almost monstrous now. And the moon goddess... she’s not even the same. She’s just a shadow of what she was."

  Elowen nodded slowly, her eyes darkening as she took in the destruction that had overtaken the gods. "The sea god, once a symbol of calm and flow, had become a monstrous, angry force—rising in fury, like a serpent. The moon goddess, once peaceful, was now twisted and dark. Their power had been corrupted, their forms shattered by betrayal. This mural shows the breaking point—the gods turned on the people of Thalassa, and in return, the people lost their connection to everything that once gave them strength."

  Kael’s brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the broken heart in the center of the mural. "The heart... the blackened stone heart. It’s shattered into pieces. Does that mean something? What happened to it? I wonder whose heart this was."

  Elowen’s voice quivered slightly as she focused on the shattered heart, her face full of sorrow. "That heart... it was once the core of the sun god. The very source of the power that connected the gods to the people. But now, it’s broken—shattered into nine pieces and scattered. It’s a symbol of betrayal. The gods took their power back, ripping apart the heart, and with it, the connection to the kingdom. The people of Thalassa were left hollow, empty, without their gods. They couldn’t hold onto anything they could ever hope to reclaim."

  Balthazar’s expression hardened, a deep frustration settling in. "So, the gods abandoned them. They were left with nothing... but emptiness. And terror."

  Elowen’s voice was heavy with sadness, as if the weight of the kingdom’s fate rested on her shoulders. "Exactly. The people gave too much. When the gods had nothing left to take, they abandoned them entirely. The Thalassan Kingdom, once great and powerful, was left in ruins. The people were hollow—lost. Their eyes were filled with fear and confusion. They had sacrificed everything, and in return... they were forsaken. This mural tells the story of that moment—the moment the gods turned their backs on the people who had once worshipped them."

  Eamon’s gaze shifted to the scattered pieces of the heart, his voice somber. "And now... it’s like the entire kingdom was doomed. The gods are gone, and the land..." He trailed off, the silence between them thick with the truth of his words. "It’s cursed."

  Elowen sighed deeply, her gaze fixed on the shattered mural before them. "It was the end of an era. The gods' withdrawal sealed their fate. The kingdom was broken. And it was only a matter of time before the darkness consumed them completely. And now, this place... it’s nothing more than a grave for their lost civilization." Her voice was barely a whisper, but the sadness in it lingered, resonating deeply in the hearts of all who heard it.

  Beneath this mournful scene, another rhyme was etched into the stone:

  _"From heavens once bright, the gods turned away,

  Their tears fell like fire, and night swallowed day.

  In the wake of their loss, the golems did sway,

  Their hollowed-out chests, where no hearts would lay."_

  The words seemed to linger, thick with the weight of grief and regret, as if the very chamber itself mourned the collapse of the Thalassain civilization.

  [Progress: Entering Into The Tunnel – 80%]

  Progress: The Final Mural – The Silence of the Gods

  The final mural, high along the curve of the chamber, showed the golems—those great stone figures that had once embodied the gods. Now, the golems were depicted in various states of decay. Some were crying stone tears, while others had cracks running through their bodies like deep scars. The central mural featured the largest golem, its chest torn open with a gaping hole—the exact spot where the heart had once been placed. Around it, the other eight golems stood still, their hollow chests reflecting the emptiness of the central figure.

  One of the last images was a shattered moon—its light gone—and a sun sinking into the sea, its fiery rays fading as it was consumed by the ocean. The murals ended with this chaotic, bleak scene: a world where the gods had abandoned their creations, and the cycle of life and death had fallen apart.

  Kael’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as he gazed up at the murals, his eyes following the cracked figures. "These golems... they weren’t like the ones we saw before. These were... broken." His words felt heavy, as if the weight of the history pressed against him. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to feel awe or sorrow.

  Balthazar’s eyes narrowed, a deep concern settling over him as he studied the deteriorating stone figures. "They were supposed to be the gods’ guardians. Now, they were weeping, cracked... empty. What happened to them?" His voice carried disbelief, struggling to understand how these once-mighty protectors could have become so... forsaken.

  Elowen’s voice was low and sorrowful as she traced the outlines of the decaying stone golems. She seemed to be speaking not just to her companions, but to the figures themselves, as if they could still hear her. "The golems were the final embodiments of the gods—their protectors, their hands in the mortal realm. But with the gods' abandonment of Thalassa, the golems began to decay as well. Their purpose was tied to the gods' favor. And when that favor was withdrawn, so was their strength." Her eyes softened with empathy as she continued, "They were hollow now, empty shells of their former selves. Some of them were weeping—stone tears, as though they mourned the loss of their creators and their own purpose."

  Eamon frowned, his eyes drawn to the central golem, the largest one towering over the others. "This one... the largest. It had a hole right where the heart would’ve been. Was that... the same heart from the murals below?"

  Elowen nodded solemnly, her expression shadowed with sorrow. "Yes, that was the heart—the sunstone heart. It once powered the golems, gave them life and purpose. When the gods withdrew, that heart was torn out, shattered, and scattered. This golem, the largest one, was now empty. Its heart was gone, and with it, its soul. It was a symbol of the sun god's final abandonment." Her voice trembled, her fingers brushing the stone as if trying to feel the echo of the lost power. "The other golems stood in silent witness, their hollow chests reflecting that emptiness."

  Balthazar’s gaze darkened as he surveyed the scene around them. His fists clenched at his sides. "And then the final images—the moon was shattered, its light gone, and the sun was sinking into the sea. It was all falling apart."

  Elowen sighed deeply, her gaze lingering on the sinking sun, the image now burned into her mind. "Yes. The moon, once a symbol of serenity, had been shattered. The sun, once the giver of life, was now being swallowed by the ocean. It was the end of everything—the gods, their creations, the kingdom—it was all unraveling. The cycle of life and death had broken. There was no more balance." She shook her head, her voice growing faint with grief. "The world was left in chaos and ruin."

  Kael’s voice trembled, laced with disbelief. "So this was it. The end of everything. The gods had abandoned them completely, and the golems... they’d been left to crumble away."

  Elowen’s voice was filled with quiet grief as she lowered her eyes. "Yes. The golems were the last remnants of the gods’ power in this world. But now, they were just broken statues, weeping stone tears. They could no longer protect anyone." She paused, her eyes reflecting a distant sorrow. "This mural marked the moment the gods forsook their creations, and the world fell into darkness. The people of Thalassa weren’t the only ones abandoned—so were their guardians."

  Balthazar spoke softly, his voice heavy with the weight of what they had uncovered. "A once-great kingdom brought low. The gods’ departure... it was like a curse, a slow, agonizing end for everything." He stood still for a moment, as if waiting for something to change, some sign that it wasn’t all truly over. But nothing came.

  Eamon shook his head, his eyes lingering on the images of the crumbling world before them. His voice was tinged with a sense of finality, as if he were speaking for all of them. "This place... it was a monument to lost hope. To a broken world." His words felt hollow, echoing the emptiness that had taken over the murals.

  Elowen stood silently for a moment, her hand resting lightly against the cold stone wall, as though trying to connect with the past. "The gods’ favor was gone, and the world had fallen into ruin." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried with it the weight of the centuries that had passed. "All that remains now are the stories and the memories, trapped in these walls... like echoes of a time long past. But I didn’t understand one thing: these three murals were about the creation, rise, and fall of Thalassa, but why was this fourth mural different, hinting at the golems? And why did the heart of this big golem appear in the third mural?"

  They all stayed silent; no one had an answer.

  The silence that followed was thick with the sadness of all they had learned, the civilization that had once stood proud now reduced to nothing but forgotten whispers.

  Beneath this final mural, the last rhyme was etched into the stone:

  _"The moon turned to black, and the sun to the sea,

  As the golems, forsaken, stood silent and free.

  The cycle was broken, and all we could see,

  Were their empty stone hearts, as dark as could be."_

  The words hung in the air, heavy with finality, as if the chamber itself had borne witness to the end of an era—the end of a cycle that could never be undone. The gods had withdrawn, the people had fallen, and the once-mighty golems stood as hollow monuments to a forgotten age. They took a deep breath and stepped back, taking in the full scope of the murals. The weight of their story pressed upon them: a tale of creation, sacrifice, and loss. The once-glorious civilization of Thalassa, the gods' chosen people, had fallen into oblivion. The golems, crafted to house divine power, now stood as lifeless sentinels, their once-purposed hearts long removed.

  The murals seemed to cry out in a final warning—a reminder of the price paid for overreaching, for trying to bind the divine too tightly to the mortal world. The images of the gods, once vibrant and full of life, now faded into emptiness. The gods had withdrawn, the people had perished, and the stone figures remained, silent and hollow, as if echoing the final, desperate plea of a kingdom that had reached too far, only to fall into darkness.

  [Progress: Entering Into The Tunnel – 100%]