With a final, commanding call from Joran, the scattered camp gathered into a single file line, stretching along the path they would follow. The quiet murmurs of the group faded into a solemn hush as everyone took their places. Bags were hoisted onto shoulders, and supplies were evenly distributed. There was no hesitation in their movements; every person knew their role, their place in the formation.
He positioned himself in the middle of the line, where he felt he could watch and listen without standing out. As the group began to move, the once-bustling camp transformed into a distant memory, its crumbling structures receding into the horizon. The path ahead felt endless, framed on both sides by the creeping tendrils of the ever-present darkness.
At first, he kept his gaze forward, watching the backs of those ahead of him. But as they moved, he found his eyes drifting to the edges of the path, where shadows pressed closer with every step. One by one, people at the front of the line disappeared into the void, swallowed by the dense, oppressive black. The sight sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to keep walking.
From up ahead, Joran’s voice rang out, calm and confident. “All clear! Keep moving!” The sound cut through the silence like a beacon, carrying reassurance to those further back. The call was repeated by others as it traveled down the line, a chain of voices linking the group together.
Hearing Joran’s voice emerge from beyond the darkness sent a strange wave of reassurance through him. It was as if the sound was proof that there was still light, still something tangible waiting for them beyond the shadows. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, letting the tension bleed out of his body.
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You can do this. He reminded himself as he lifted one foot, then the other, stepping closer to the darkness. As his own boots crossed the threshold, he felt the oppressive weight of the void settle over him, but he didn’t stop. Joran’s voice echoed faintly from beyond, giving him the push he needed to keep marching forward.
The first thing he noticed, beyond the oppressive familiarity of the darkness closing in around him, was the illuminated path stretching forward into the void. It shimmered faintly, a narrow lifeline that seemed to defy the surrounding blackness. The light wasn’t steady—it flickered and shifted, reflecting the movement of the people ahead of him, though he couldn’t see them. Their presence was only marked by the fleeting disturbances in the glow of the path.
He kept his focus on the trail, letting its faint light guide his steps. Every now and then, he caught himself glancing at the edges of the path, where the darkness felt heavier, alive somehow, as though it watched and waited. But the path remained, unbroken and unwavering, a quiet reassurance against the smothering void.
As he marched further along, a voice rang out from behind, breaking the uneasy silence. “All clear!” it called, echoing forward through the group. The words were passed along the line, each voice repeating the signal until it reached the front. The final person had entered.
With that call, it became real—every member of the camp was now engulfed in darkness. There was no turning back, no safe ground left behind them. Only the illuminated path stretched forward, cutting through the shadows like a fragile thread of hope.
He tightened his grip on the straps of his pack, his steps steady but cautious. The oppressive weight of the darkness pressed against him, but he forced himself to keep moving, the flickering light ahead his only guide.