The Trial of Ishtar

The next chamber loomed ahead, its entrance framed by towering stone pillars etched with ancient runes. The faint glow of the torches barely reached the edges of the room, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. I gripped the hilt of the Blade of the Fallen King tightly, feeling the weight of it in my hand as I stepped inside. My heartbeat quickened as I scanned the space, anticipating the next wave of challenges.

The air here felt different—thicker, heavier, as if the very atmosphere was charged with a dark energy. I could hear the distant growl of creatures lurking just beyond the torchlight, their low, rumbling breaths echoing off the stone. I took a deep breath, my aura flaring around me, the familiar warmth of power settling into my limbs. This was the trial, after all, and if the first chamber had been a warm-up, then this one was the real test.