“Knock, knock,” Vell announced playfully, his voice echoing slightly as he tapped his staff against the imposing gate, which was framed by a pristine white marble wall that glimmered under the soft light of the sun.
The gate stood tall and formidable, its surface etched with intricate patterns that hinted at ancient craftsmanship, but there was no response from within.
Sonder, standing a few paces behind him, shifted uneasily. She wasn’t quite sure where Vell had led her.
He had something in mind that he had yet to share, and that left her feeling both curious and apprehensive.
They were not deep in the woods, nor were they traveling through an icy tundra. No, this gate was the threshold to a place that promised civilization—an actual city.
Humans? Maybe, but it could have been anyone else.
Vell knocked again, his patience wearing thin but his demeanor still playful. “Come on,” he called out, his tone lighthearted despite the lack of response. “You promised.” He leaned in closer, as if the gate might somehow hear him and respond in kind.
Again, there was no answer.
With a determined huff, Vell struck the gate with his staff a third time, but this time, a faint glow emanated from the staff, illuminating the intricate carvings on the door. Suddenly, without any further warning, one of the colossal doors creaked ominously and swung open, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
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Vell, with a flourish of his robes, stepped boldly over the threshold and into the unknown, gesturing for Sonder to follow. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the towering marble wall, and then followed.
And soon they were walking down the deserted streets of what appeared to be a once-thriving city.
The streets were eerily quiet, devoid of life, as if the bustling civilization had suddenly vanished into thin air.
“Hello? Is anyone home?” Vell called out, his voice breaking the stillness as he paused to listen for any signs of life. The answer was nothing but silence.
Not one to be deterred by their solitude, Vell resumed his stroll, his mood buoyant. He began to sing, his voice light and melodic, picking up the same tune he had sung before.
“In the land of dark and shadow,
Lurks a figure, fierce and narrow,
Casting spells with a wicked grin,
Ah, so fearful, he’s coming in.”
They came upon a small park, the remnants of a once-vibrant community space. They found a weathered bench, and Vell gestured for them to sit.
The trees, with their lush greens and vibrant yellows, swayed gently in the breeze, and the soft calls of birds filled the air.
Vell, ever the bard, began to whistle along with the birds, weaving their calls into the melody of his song.
“With his robes of deep obsidian,
He conjures storms, a wild battalion,
Whispers secrets of ancient lore-“
But before he could finish the verse, a sudden voice interrupted, low and menacing. “Oh, the Dread Mage, we all adore.”
From the shadows of a nearby tree, a figure emerged, blending seamlessly with the bark, his body cloaked in hues of brown and green. He held a knife, its blade glinting ominously as it was pressed against Vell's throat.