Aric’s breathing was steady but shallow, his body still thrumming with the aftermath of the fight against the Blight. The darkened forest had regained its unnerving stillness, the fog weaving through the trees as though nothing had just transpired. The black ash of the defeated Blight scattered in the wind, a grim reminder of the danger lurking within the Isles.
But then, he saw it.
A figure—just a glimpse, at first. Darting through the mist, quick and deliberate. Aric’s eyes narrowed, recognition hitting him like a cold wave. He knew who that was. No one else moved like that, carried that same familiar presence.
It was his original body.
The body that had been taken from him, stolen by forces he still didn’t fully understand. The very sight of it ignited a storm inside him—a mix of anger, fear, and determination. Without hesitation, Aric sprinted after the figure, his chain coiling tightly in his grip, the blackish-grey energy of Khaos pulsing through the links.
The figure ran up the path leading towards Mount Morris, weaving through the dense forest as if knowing the terrain by heart. Aric followed, his mind focused, but his thoughts raced. Why here? Why now? The Forgotten Isles were already crawling with dangers, and the appearance of his original body only complicated things further.
As he ran, the ground beneath his boots shifted from forest floor to rocky terrain, the incline growing steeper. The path ahead led straight toward Mount Morris, the tallest peak in the Isles—a place spoken of only in hushed tones among the fortress guards. It was said to be cursed, a breeding ground for the very Blights and Aberrations that plagued the land.
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The chase continued, the mist thickening the higher they climbed. Aric pushed himself harder, his muscles burning from the exertion. His heart pounded, not just from the chase but from the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. What would he do when he caught up? Could he even confront his original body and come out whole?
Suddenly, a familiar feeling washed over him. Aric slowed his pace, his senses sharpening. Energy—faint but unmistakable—lingered in the air, a presence he hadn’t felt in years. No, not just one... several.
His siblings.
He could feel them, their unique energies flickering on the edge of his awareness. Dulce’s vile Krimson, the rare projection of Haelcar, and even the subtle flow of time that was unmistakably Ursa’s Link. They were near the fortress—far from where they should be.
Aric cursed under his breath, his thoughts briefly torn from the chase. Why are they here? Of all places, and at the wrong times, he thought, his frustration mounting. His siblings showing up now complicated everything. They didn’t understand what was truly happening, and their presence could interfere with the task at hand.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The figure was getting farther ahead, moving faster up the mountain. Aric forced his mind back to the pursuit. He would deal with his siblings later—after he reclaimed what was his.
The rocky path became more treacherous, jagged stones jutting out, forcing him to be mindful of every step. But his eyes remained locked on the figure ahead, moving as if the terrain was no obstacle. The mist clung to everything, making it hard to see more than a few paces ahead, but Aric’s focus didn’t waver.
His original body. The vessel that had once housed him, now running from him. It stirred something deep within, something primal and unsettling. A part of him that he had tried to bury.
Mount Morris loomed larger as he ascended, its craggy peaks piercing the sky. The path twisted and turned, narrow and unstable, yet the figure remained just out of reach. But Aric was gaining ground, step by step, driven by sheer will.
“I won’t let you escape again,” Aric muttered to himself, his grip tightening on his chain, the blackish-grey energy of Khaos flickering around it in anticipation.
The figure seemed to hear him. It glanced back, just for a moment, before quickening its pace. But Aric was close now, close enough to feel the familiar presence of his old self—close enough to see the hollow, empty expression on the face that had once been his.
The climb became more grueling, the air thinner as they neared the upper slopes of Mount Morris. Aric’s breath came in shallow gasps, but he pressed on, determined not to lose sight of the figure. The familiar energies of his siblings faded into the background as his focus narrowed on the chase.
Whatever awaited him at the peak, whatever confrontation lay ahead, he was ready. He had to be.
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To Be Continued...
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