As you take your final steps towards the ancient altar, a surge of power ripples through the chamber, causing the runes to glow brighter and the very ground beneath you to tremble. Thrasi's eyes gleam with anticipation as he raises his hands, chanting in an archaic tongue that sends shivers down your spine. Suddenly, tendrils of dark energy shoot out from the altar, enveloping you in a suffocating grip. Your vision blurs, and you feel your life force being drained away, feeding the curse on Hlöthver. The air grows colder, and the once faint blue light intensifies, casting twisted shadows all around. You realize too late the true horror of your sacrifice.