Melita winced as the stream’s icy current bit into her toes, making each step feel like trudging through shards of frozen glass. She paused again, stamping her feet on a smooth rock, willing warmth into her aching soles. The stream’s icy grip was a sharp counterpoint to the suffocating humidity of the forest, a paradox that gnawed at her focus. Her destination was the highest point on the island.
The stream opened to a large lake nestled along a cliff, and Melita walked onto the bank and enjoyed the sight. She folded her legs beneath her and murmured an incantation, her voice steady and deliberate. The air shimmered faintly as if the world held its breath, waiting for unseen forces to respond.
A dull purple glow drew her eye halfway up the rock face. Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she edged along the lake’s stony shore, her steps quickening with each flicker of the mysterious purple light above. As she tilted her head back, a faint outline appeared—a break in the cliff face cloaked by shadows and veiled by the glow, its presence too subtle to spot from afar.
Melita clenched her fists and exhaled slowly, whispering a prayer to Zeus. A sudden gust swirled around her, tugging at her skirt as it lifted her gently, defying gravity. Her skirt flared as she rose slowly into the air. She soon reaches the entrance of a narrow cavern.
Melita hesitated at the cavern’s mouth, drawing a shaky breath before stepping inside. The air turned heavy, prickling her skin with an icy foreboding that made her stomach churn. Runes ran from floor to ceiling, not the precise characters of the Olympian language, but something hard with several points: the language of the Protoi, the mysterious beings who stole Arakos from her. Those who knew about them avoided speaking their names and looked at each other suspiciously.
The oppressive darkness reminded her of the Black Chamber in the Aeolian Mountains. Every shadow seemed to pulse with the memory of Arakos’ anguished cry as the Mists swallowed him whole.
She could not read Protoi, so the writing meant nothing to her. The glyphs were arranged in rows and columns, each precisely placed so that it was impossible to know if they were meant to be read horizontally or vertically. A sharp tingle danced up her palm like an invisible swarm of ants scurried beneath her skin, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. The unmistakable tingle of magic.
She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she pulled the glyphs’ latent power into herself before channeling the energy back. The glyphs lit up with a red glow that outlines the walls. She proceeded deeper, advancing one step at a time, not looking at the walls further.
At first, it was just a hum, then whispers tangled in the vibrations of the air. The voices swelled, distinct and overwhelming, their words piercing straight into her mind. Melita. Melita, they called into her mind, dozens of voices speaking at once in perfect unison. Tell us what you want to know. We can help you.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Melita flailed her hand through the empty air as if brushing away gnats, but the voices clung to her like stubborn shadows, impossible to silence. Tell us, Melita.
She did her best to ignore them.
The narrow passage expanded into a larger room, where more glyphs lit up as she walked by. Here, the glyphs covered the ceiling in perfect symmetry. As more lit up, the murmurs crescendoed, blending into a maddening chorus that echoed through her skull with relentless clarity, as if each voice knew her secrets. Melita, your longing screams through the void. Why deny what you crave most?
“Leave me alone! I want nothing from you!” Placing both hands on her ears, she ousted them from her mind.
They grew silent for a few seconds but soon returned. You seek answers we possess. Speak, and they are yours. They insisted, teased, cajoled, promised, and commanded in the same tone.
About the size of her forearm and as thick as her fist, the perfect rectangular slab of light grey stone sat upon a stone pedestal against the far wall. The stone gleamed with a cold luminescence, neither pearl nor ice, yet radiating a presence that thrummed with distant realms’ promise—and threat. The mouth to oblivion.
Her throat tightened at the memory of another stone, another doorway, the moment Arakos was torn from her grasp and lost to the void.
We can tell you how to activate it. How to master it. Bring Arakos here, or go to him. You decide. Tell us what you want to do, Melita.
“Where does it lead?” Melita asked, staying several steps from the stone.
Many have crossed before you. Some found love; others found despair. A new beginning without the burden of the past. A clean slate. The voices sounded amused.
Melita laughed. “You don’t know. No one knows. You tease and tempt fools with your empty promises, then do horrible things to them.” Her fingers twitched with the urge to cast a divination spell, but the slab’s eerie glow seemed to pulse in warning as if waiting to consume her magic.
We help lead our people. Don’t happy kings and queens radiate throughout their kingdoms? Some people have to be shown the truth. Do you want us to show you the truth? The voices took on a threatening tone as a deep shudder traversed Melita’s spine.
Melita closed her eyes to recenter herself. “That’s what a tyrant does: forces all those who oppose him to bend the knee, by choice or torture.”
From the dull-gray surface, another voice. One so faint, she almost missed it. She took a half-step forward to hear it better.
Touch the stone and invoke its magic. Arakos awaits on the other side.
“I don’t know what it does.”
Yes, you do.
She knew. Oblivion. “Arakos...” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her pulse thundered in her ears, each beat driving the temptation closer to reality. Could it be?
A world with Arakos.
“Get out of my head!” She shouted.
Touch the stone and invoke its magic. Arakos awaits on the other side.
Amid the cacophony, a voice cut through like a blade—a voice she knew intimately, its warmth and cadence unmistakable. Arakos. He called to her from beyond the empty void within that stone.
“This is madness.” She jumped back. Her ear had been an inch away from the slab. When did she get so close to it?
He is within your reach, Melita. One touch and you’ll be with him. Why hesitate? They laughed, at once cajoling, insulting, and threatening her.
“Aree!” Melita invoked her magic again to steel herself from the voices.
The voices laughed as she ran from the cave, jumping into the cold lake below. They kept laughing long after she left. They could wait some more.