In the Shadow of the Scroll

The Shattering of the Stone

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Emmalyn muttered, her sword still raised and glowing faintly.

“It’s worse,” Kyran said grimly, his eyes scanning the chamber. “Whatever’s been watching us—whoever’s been pulling the strings—they’re making their move.”

Annie, who had been standing near the crumbled remains of the altar, stepped back warily. “We need to leave. Now.”

Before Annabeth could respond, the stone in her hand flared brightly, its light blinding and erratic. She gasped, feeling its warmth surge into something almost unbearable, its hum growing louder until it was a deafening roar in her ears.

“What’s happening?” Annabeth cried, the stone trembling violently in her grasp.

“It’s overloading,” Kyran said, his voice tight with urgency. “The altar’s destruction—whatever energy was connected to it—it’s destabilizing the stone!”

The ground beneath them began to quake, cracks spidering out across the polished black floor. The walls of the chamber groaned as pieces of rock began to fall, sending echoes of destruction through the cavern.

“Drop it!” Annie shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “If it breaks in your hands—”

“No!” Annabeth yelled, gripping the stone tighter. “We need it! It’s guiding us!”

Emmalyn rushed to her sister’s side, her sword still glowing as she placed a steadying hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “If it’s going to blow, we can’t keep it! It’s not worth dying for!”

The stone’s light grew blinding, casting sharp, jagged shadows across the chamber. Annabeth could feel its power slipping out of control, its energy spiraling wildly. But before she could make a decision, the voice—the one she had heard in her dreams—pierced through her mind.

You think you are worthy? You think you can wield my power?

The voice was sharp, cold, and laced with cruelty. Annabeth gasped, stumbling as the stone’s heat seared into her palm.

“What’s happening?” Emmalyn shouted, gripping Annabeth’s arm. “Annabeth, talk to me!”

“It’s... it’s talking to me,” Annabeth said, her voice trembling. “It knows... it knows we’re trying to find the scroll. It doesn’t want us to.”

Before anyone could respond, the stone emitted a final, piercing scream of energy. The glow collapsed inward, condensing into a single point of light before exploding outward with a thunderous crack. The force of the blast threw them all to the ground, and Annabeth felt the scroll fragments tear from her grasp as the shockwave consumed the chamber.

When the dust settled, silence fell over the cavern. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burned stone, and small fires flickered where the blast had scorched the ground. Annabeth pushed herself up, her ears ringing and her vision swimming.

“The stone,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. She looked down at her hand, expecting to see the faint glow—but it was gone. The stone was gone.

“What just happened?” Emmalyn coughed, sitting up and brushing ash from her hair.

“The stone...” Annabeth said again, her voice shaking. She crawled forward, searching the ground for any sign of the artifact, but there was nothing. Only shards of dull gray rock remained, lifeless and cold.

“It’s destroyed,” Kyran said grimly, standing and surveying the damage. “The mountain’s energy—it overwhelmed it. It couldn’t hold.”

“Great,” Annie said, dusting off her cloak. “Now we’ve got no guide, no stone, and no idea what’s coming next. This day just keeps getting better.”

Annabeth’s hands shook as she picked up the pieces of the shattered stone. Its once-brilliant glow was gone, and the power that had guided them felt like a distant memory. “It was supposed to help us,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “How are we supposed to find the rest of the scroll now?”

Emmalyn knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

But before Annabeth could respond, the laughter returned—this time louder, more menacing. A sharp, cold wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the small fires and plunging them into near darkness.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, small and slight but radiating a terrifying presence. Her glowing green eyes pierced through the gloom, and in her hands, she held a staff that pulsed with the same crimson light as the altar’s runes.

“Wendee,” Kyran hissed, his dagger flashing in the faint light.

The diminutive woman smiled, her expression both cruel and mocking. “Oh, how far you’ve come, little adventurers. But it seems your precious stone has failed you.”

“What do you want?” Annabeth demanded, standing despite the trembling in her legs.

“What do I want?” Wendee said, her voice high-pitched and mocking. “Why, I want what you want—the scroll. But unlike you, I understand its power. And now that you’ve so kindly shattered your little trinket, nothing stands between me and my goal.”

Annie stepped forward, her knife drawn. “You won’t get past us.”

Wendee laughed, the sound grating like broken glass. “Oh, sweet little fools. You think you can stop me?” She raised her staff, and the crimson light flared, sending shockwaves of energy rippling through the chamber. “Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

The ground shook violently as shadowy forms began to emerge from the cracks in the floor—creatures made of pure darkness, their glowing eyes fixed on the group.

Annabeth tightened her grip on the scroll fragments, her determination solidifying despite her fear. The stone was gone, but the fight wasn’t over.

“Get ready!” she shouted, her voice steady despite the chaos. “We’re not done yet.”