Elena walked down a crumbling paved path, the ruins of a once-magnificent city stretching out on either side. Towering stone pillars lay shattered across the ground, their once-proud forms reduced to rubble. The buildings around her, some still partially standing, bore the scars of fire and violence—burned facades, torn roofs, walls pockmarked and crumbling. The devastation was absolute, and yet, there was a haunting beauty in the desolation.
She was reminded of Timgad, the ancient Roman city in Algeria she had visited with her parents and David over a decade ago. The ruins there had whispered of a bygone era, of life and grandeur now long lost. But this…this felt different. The air itself felt heavy with despair, as though the ruins mourned the people who had once called this place home. Elena couldn’t shake the sense that she wasn’t just walking through the remains of a city, but through the aftermath of something much greater—a paradise laid to waste.
The markings etched into the stone buildings caught her attention. They were eerily familiar, bearing a striking resemblance to the intricate carvings on the artifact. Her gaze followed the faded patterns, her chest tightening as an inexplicable certainty settled over her. She knew where she was. Somehow, she knew. This was the Creator’s realm—the place Arthur had spoken of with reverence and longing.
But why did it look like this? How could this sacred place have been reduced to such ruin?
Ahead, the narrow path widened into what seemed like a town center, an open space dominated by a towering statue. The statue stood against the backdrop of the ruins like a sentinel guarding the secrets of this place. As Elena approached, the figures became clearer.
It was a man and a woman, standing back-to-back, their faces worn but still striking in their elegance. Each held an orb aloft in their hands, their stone robes flowing as though caught in an eternal wind. Their wings, though damaged and partially broken, still protruded proudly from their backs. The orbs they held glowed faintly—one shaped like the sun, the other like the moon.
A strange sensation tugged at Elena’s chest as she drew closer, an invisible pull that seemed to beckon her forward, toward something beyond the statue. Her feet moved of their own accord, the world narrowing until all she could see was the entrance to a massive building looming ahead. It was grand, even in ruin, its intricately carved stone archways still radiating a faint echo of their former splendor.
The pull intensified as she stepped inside. The air was cooler here, heavy with the scent of stone and something older, something she couldn’t name. The chamber beyond was vast, its ceilings soaring high above, shrouded in shadow. At the center of the room stood an empty throne, its polished surface catching the faint light that filtered through the broken walls. It looked forlorn, abandoned, as though the one who had once ruled here had left long ago.
Elena felt a hollow ache settle deep within her as she stared at the vacant throne. There was a finality to its emptiness, a sense that whoever had once sat there would never sit there again. The thought left a heaviness in her heart, an inexplicable sadness she couldn’t shake.
Elena’s gaze drifted past the throne to a large stone tablet resting on a pedestal. The markings on its surface glowed faintly, the same symbols that adorned the artifact. But unlike the artifact, Elena found that she could understand these markings. The knowledge seemed to pour into her mind unbidden, as though the tablet itself whispered its secrets.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
It spoke of a great battle, of a darkness that had risen and spread like a plague, consuming everything in its path. The words painted a picture of despair and ruin, of a realm brought to its knees by an unrelenting force. As she reached out to touch the tablet, a surge of energy coursed through her, cold and biting. Her hand froze just above the surface, trembling.
And then the black veins on her hand began to spread.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the darkness crawled up her skin, her arm blackening as though consumed by fire. Pain radiated from the corrupted flesh, and she cried out in shock and fear. She tried to pull her hand away, but it was as if the tablet held her in place, tethering her to its power.
From the shadows of the chamber, movement stirred. Shapes emerged—twisted, grotesque figures with gleaming eyes and razor-sharp claws. Noctrachs. They stalked toward her, their guttural growls echoing off the stone walls.
“No,” Elena whispered, her voice shaking as panic clawed at her throat. “No, no—stay back!”
The Noctrachs didn’t stop. They moved with terrifying purpose, their gazes fixed on her as though she were prey caught in their trap. Her screams tore through the silence as they lunged, grabbing on to her and holding her down.
Elena’s eyes snapped open, her body drenched in sweat, the echo of her scream still in her ears. She was in pitch darkness, lying on a bed, pressed against something—or someone. Arms as smooth and unyielding as marble held her firmly in place. Panic surged anew, and she screamed again, thrashing wildly, but it was no use. She couldn’t move an inch. Fear flooded her veins, sharp and overwhelming. Somewhere behind her, a voice spoke, but she couldn’t hear the words over her own wails and the relentless pounding in her ears.
The figure tightened its grip just enough to steady her and raised a hand to her mouth, muffling her next cry. “Elena, it’s me,” the voice pleaded, strained but familiar.
Recognition pierced through her panic like ice water on her skin. The scream died in her throat, replaced by a choked whimper. Her body froze, muscles locked as though the nightmare still held her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart threatening to tear free of her chest. That voice—it was Theo. And these arms, now loosening their grip, were his. This was her room.
“You’re safe,” Theo murmured, his voice soft, steady. He removed his hand, his touch gentle as he ran it down her arm. “It’s just me.”
Elena’s breath hitched as the words sank in, breaking through the remnants of her terror. “Theo?” she whispered, her voice trembling, raw. The name came out like a lifeline, something to anchor her to reality.
“Yes,” he said softly, the word filled with quiet reassurance. “It’s me. You’re okay.”
Her chest rose and fell with a shaky exhale, the tension in her body easing ever so slightly. Slowly, she turned in his arms, her movements hesitant. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finding his face close to hers, shadowed but unmistakably familiar. His concern was etched into every line of his expression, his brows drawn together, his lips pressed in a thin, worried line.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice low as he reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “You started screaming, thrashing... I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“It’s okay,” she rasped, her voice raw from the screams. Her throat ached with the effort, but she forced the words out. “Thank you.”
Theo gazed at her and gave her arm a squeeze. Elena felt another sense of relief and calm at his touch. She nestled in a little closer allowing the solidity of him to ground her. This was the first time in a long while that she’d had someone to comfort her after a nightmare.