At that moment, very few people could hear the rumbling coming from within the elemental world.
The temple suddenly began to shake violently. The little fae Loot the Fae landed hard on his backside, smacking the back of his head against the base of the twelfth obsidian pillar. He let out a muffled groan, stars bursting before his eyes.
"Who's causing trouble?" He had no time to worry about the bump on the back of his head. He rolled across the floor, drew the Flame Sword with his other hand, and shouted angrily. Yet the solemn hall remained as empty as ever. The obsidian floor gleamed like a mirror, darkness stretched out ahead, and only dust drifted up and down through the air.
The fourteen giant pillars seemed to support the heavens. The trapezoidal ceiling soared more than a hundred meters above the ground, carved with reliefs of the lords of the four elements—air, fire, water, and earth.
"Who's there?" Loot called again, only to discover in irritation that no one seemed to be opposing him. There was no doubt about it—he had simply tripped over nothing and fallen flat on his face.
"Who's there?"
"Who's there?"
"Who's there..."
The empty echoes reverberated again and again through the pitch-black depths of the great hall. His two delicate, flame-like brows drew together as he muttered doubtfully, "Strange. Why would the Elemental Temple resonate? Could I have imagined it?"
Loot pursed his lips and glanced around once more before getting to his feet and sheathing the Flame Sword. He continued cautiously toward the depths of the temple.
The Elemental Temple was the foundation of this world. How could it be shaken so easily? He assumed he had imagined it, or that something in the pitch-black temple was playing tricks on him.
Some