The ancient forest seemed to close around us like a living entity, the air heavy and oppressive. Days had blurred together, blending into a relentless cycle of traveling by daylight and cautious, uneasy rest by night. But today felt different—charged with a hidden tension, as if the land itself was aware of our presence and resented our intrusion.
We had left the village far behind, venturing deeper into unfamiliar territory with each passing hour. My father moved ahead of us, silent and alert, scanning every shadow and movement. Elara walked beside me, her bow clutched tightly, eyes wide and wary. None of us spoke; there was no need. The forest communicated enough—the unnatural silence, the absence of animals, the lingering sensation of unseen eyes watching our every move.
We were being hunted.
I felt it clearly now—a presence that hovered just out of sight, hidden within the darkened treeline. A presence that grew more palpable with each step we took. But unlike before, it didn't feel aggressive.
It felt curious.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
The Village of Ruins
We emerged from the dense thicket of trees into a small clearing where an old, abandoned village stood in ruins. Dilapidated wooden structures leaned heavily to one side, overtaken by thick vines and moss. Broken windows stared out like empty eye sockets, and silence clung to the area like a shroud.
My father paused, his eyes narrowed, examining the ruins carefully.
"What is this place?" Elara asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
My father exhaled slowly. "An old settlement. It's been abandoned for decades. Some say the villagers vanished without a trace."
A chill ran down my spine. "Vanished?"
He nodded. "One day, they were just gone. No bodies, no struggle—just silence."
"Do you think it was them?" Elara asked quietly, her voice trembling.
He didn't respond, but the tightening of his jaw spoke volumes. The unspoken fear was clear: the Aberrations, or something worse, had been here before.
Echoes of the Past
We cautiously moved deeper into the abandoned village, stepping over crumbling walls and weaving around collapsed structures. Every shadow seemed to shift as we passed, the ruins themselves watching our every move.
I stepped into what had once been a central square, a broken fountain now serving as home to tangled roots and stagnant water. Elara approached it carefully, brushing her fingertips over the carved stone. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed something etched into the fountain's base.
"What is it?" I asked, stepping closer.
"Runes," she murmured softly, tracing the symbols. "They're similar to the ones you saw at the ruins."
My heart skipped a beat. I approached, peering at the strange symbols etched into the stone. They were identical to the ones I had seen at the ruins—the ones that had triggered that vision of the shadowed figure.
"What do they mean?" I whispered.
My father stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "No one knows. They were here long before the village."
"But what if they're connected?" Elara murmured softly.
I glanced at her sharply. "Connected?"
She nodded slowly. "What if the ruins, the disappearances, the Aberrations… what if they're all related?"
My father sighed deeply. "Then this is bigger than any of us thought."
Before I could respond, a sound echoed from the far side of the village—a rustling, followed by the faintest whisper. I spun, gripping my dagger tighter.
"Someone's here," I hissed.
My father stepped protectively in front of us, blade raised. "Stay close."
Echoes in the Dark
We moved carefully through the ruins, following the soft whispers deeper into the crumbling structures. Each step seemed to amplify the tension in the air, the unseen eyes upon us growing more intense with every heartbeat.
We stopped at the edge of what had once been a small chapel. Its wooden doors hung loosely on rusted hinges, creaking softly in the faint breeze. The whispers grew louder, clearer—an incoherent murmuring that seemed to seep into my very bones.
Without warning, a shadow darted from the doorway, vanishing around the side of the building. My father lunged after it, and Elara and I followed closely behind. The figure moved with unnatural speed, disappearing into another ruined structure.
My heart pounded in my chest as we reached the entrance, peering into the darkness. Inside, the air was colder, thicker, charged with mana that felt twisted and wrong. My father raised a hand, signaling us to stop.
Then a voice called out, fragile yet eerily calm.
"You shouldn't have come here."
We stepped into the shadowed room cautiously, weapons drawn.
A frail figure sat at the far end, wrapped in a torn, faded cloak, face hidden beneath a hood. The air around them seemed to shimmer slightly, as if reality itself struggled to hold their form.
"Who are you?" my father asked, voice firm yet wary.
The figure lifted their head, revealing eyes glowing softly in the darkness, pale blue and distant. "A remnant," they said softly. "A shadow of what once was."
I stiffened. "Who are you?"
"A survivor," the figure said, slowly lowering their hood.
My breath caught. Beneath the hood was an old man—his face aged, skin pale and translucent, eyes pale blue and vacant, as if they were gazing through us into another world entirely.
"You survived the Aberrations?" my father questioned warily.
The man shook his head slowly. "They were never the real threat."
My father's gaze sharpened. "Then what is?"
The old man sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as if weighed down by immense exhaustion. "Them," he whispered, pointing toward the sky. "Those who hide behind shadows, pulling the strings. Those who turned our gods against us."
The old man's words echoed in my mind, the vision I had seen at the ruins flashing before my eyes. "Gods? What gods?"
He turned his vacant gaze toward me, staring deeply into my eyes. "The ones we worshipped. The ones who promised us protection—but brought only ruin."
My heartbeat quickened. "You mean they betrayed you?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. They were never gods to begin with. They were masks, illusions, false deities we created. But we believed in them—and that belief gave them power."
He paused, drawing a ragged breath. "And now, that power has corrupted the world."
A Greater Darkness
The old man stood shakily, stepping forward until he stood only a few feet away. He reached out a trembling hand, gripping my wrist tightly.
"You're like me," he whispered, eyes suddenly sharp, clear for the first time. "I can feel it. You've seen them. Heard their whispers."
I stiffened. "Who are they?"
He leaned closer, his voice barely audible. "The architects of madness. Puppeteers who twist minds, bend reality. Their influence seeps into the very fabric of this world. You've felt it. The corruption in the Aberrations is just the beginning."
He tightened his grip painfully, his eyes pleading. "You must find the truth. You must stop them."
"How?" I demanded, desperate. "I don't even know what they are!"
His gaze hardened. "Travel to the Great Academy of Aetheris. Find the scholars there—they know the hidden truths. Tell them the name 'Kovan.' They'll understand."
My father stepped forward, voice firm. "Who are you? Why should we trust you?"
The old man released my wrist, stepping back into the shadows. "Because I was there when it began. I watched our gods fall."
His voice faded, his figure melting into the darkness.
"And if you don't stop them, your world will fall too."
Then, he was gone.
Silence fell over us, heavy and absolute.
We exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his words pressing on our shoulders.
"We have to find out more," Elara whispered, her voice shaking.
My father nodded slowly. "Then we head to the academy. They have answers."
I clenched my fists, determination hardening within me.
"We'll find the truth," I whispered, half to myself.
Whatever darkness awaited, I would face it. Not just for the village, but for this world itself.
This was no longer about surviving.
This was about fighting back.