The air grew thicker, colder, and heavier with each step Kiaran, Eira, and Sable took deeper into the forbidden lands. The terrain shifted beneath their feet, treacherous and unpredictable, veiled by mist that swirled around in shadowed coils, as though watching them. Strange trees towered on either side; their bark twisted into silent, anguished faces that seemed to watch with hollow eyes. Kiaran’s hand tightened around his weapon as a disquieting silence closed in. Even the faintest sound—a footstep, a sharp breath—seemed intrusive, reverberating against the oppressive stillness.
“It’s as though nothing here has lived in centuries,” Eira whispered, casting a wary glance around. Her voice, though barely audible, sounded too loud in the unbroken silence, and she winced at the echo that followed her words. She trailed a finger along a tree carved with faded symbols, warnings perhaps, from souls who had attempted this journey but had never returned.
Kiaran was alert, each sense stretched to its limit. The curse’s shadow clung to him like a second skin, simmering with dark energy as he walked through this realm. Somewhere in the mist, a faint movement caught his eye. He whipped around, but there was nothing. His mind, always sharp, now danced between paranoia and heightened awareness.
“We’re not alone,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Sable stopped, his gaze darkening. “You feel it too, don’t you? This isn’t just some haunted forest. There’s something... or someone... watching.”
Eira’s hand moved toward the hilt of her dagger, her fingers steady despite the apprehension in her eyes. They continued in silence, passing rocks and roots that seemed to pulse with a dark, ominous energy, as though every element of this place was imbued with some malevolent force.
As they journeyed on, they came upon strange markings scratched into the soil—signs of a hunt, a pursuit. The realization twisted in Kiaran’s stomach. Whoever, or whatever, was tracking them had been doing so for quite some time.
Without warning, a chill snaked down Kiaran’s spine, more intense than the coldness of the land. There, on the edge of his vision, a flicker—a shadow, dark and swift, moving among the trees. It was an entity, barely discernible, but palpable in its hostility. It loomed, closing in, a spectral figure whose form seemed woven from the essence of darkness itself.
“It’s close,” Sable hissed, eyes sharp with fear and anger. “Keep moving, and whatever you do, don’t show it weakness.”
They pressed forward, Kiaran’s pulse quickening as he felt the weight of the unseen stalker, an ancient Guardian bound to protect the relic that lay somewhere ahead. The shadows shifted again, and this time they did not fade. In the dim light, the Guardian emerged, a figure cloaked in darkness, its form flickering like smoke around a void. Its eyes, hollow and gleaming, locked onto Kiaran’s with a gaze that pierced through flesh and bone.
“Turn back,” the Guardian’s voice resonated, a sound like stones grinding beneath an endless weight. “No mortal should dare seek what lies beyond.”
Kiaran’s hand tightened around his sword. He felt the curse burn beneath his skin, mingling with anger and a fierce determination. “We’re not leaving. Whatever lies here, we have a right to claim it.”
In answer, the Guardian lunged, shifting through the shadows, its form becoming a blur of darkness. Kiaran barely had time to raise his sword before it was upon him, spectral hands clawing through the air, shadows dancing around its form with lethal intent. The darkness clung to him, a weight and a coldness unlike any he’d felt before, creeping into his mind and soul.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Eira moved swiftly, striking with precision, but her blade passed through the Guardian as though it were smoke. The creature laughed, a hollow, rattling sound that chilled their bones. Its hand brushed her shoulder, and she gasped as the cold sank into her flesh.
“We can’t defeat this thing by normal means,” she gritted out, her voice tight with pain and determination.
Sable’s voice was a snarl. “Then we adapt. Draw it to the shadows; perhaps we can use its own domain against it.”
Kiaran’s mind raced, feeling his curse swell within him. The shadows that encased his heart pulsed, stirred by his desperation. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to yield to the dark power within him, feeling it crawl through his veins, consuming his anger, feeding off his fear. Slowly, a strange energy built up, one that turned the shadows to his command. He opened his eyes, and they were veiled with darkness.
He turned toward the Guardian, his voice cold, as though he spoke from the depths of his curse. “If you are of shadows, then let me show you their true master.”
Kiaran focused, pushing his will outward, and the darkness around him obeyed. The Guardian’s form wavered, as though uncertain, its own shadows twisting against it. For a heartbeat, Kiaran felt the upper hand. He raised his sword and struck, the blade passing through the Guardian’s spectral form, now solid enough to feel pain.
With a scream, the Guardian backed away, disappearing into the dark. Kiaran staggered, the energy he had called now fading, leaving him with a pounding headache and a feeling of dread. He could feel the curse's grip loosen, but he knew he had used something risky, something that might harm him.
They continued in silence, the recent events hanging heavily around them. Each of them felt that something important had changed in Kiaran, but no one dared to talk about it.
Ahead, a shrine emerged, a jagged structure woven of dark stone and blood-red roots, pulsating as though alive. Ancient symbols decorated its base, their meaning lost to time but laced with a power that sent shivers down their spines. In its center lay the relic, its aura seething with a hunger that beckoned to Kiaran, a dark call promising power and vengeance.
Kiaran's heart pounded as he stretched out his hand, his fingers just above the ancient object. The relic's power surrounded him, cold and tempting, showing him images of revenge, strength, and all the things he had ever wanted. It spoke softly to him, offering promises of incredible power, enough to defeat any enemy and crush anyone who stood against him.
But then Eira’s voice broke through, sharp and urgent. “Kiaran, stop! This relic—it feeds on desire. It twists it until nothing is left but hunger.”
Kiaran froze, her words piercing through the haze. He felt the relic’s power sink deeper, tightening its grip on him, and a fierce struggle erupted within. The relic promised strength, a chance to finally conquer his enemies, to rise above the curse that had bound him for so long. But beneath it lay a trap, one that could consume him as easily as it had countless others.
He wrenched his hand back, panting, fighting against the urge that still clawed at him. Eira’s eyes were filled with relief, but there was something else there too—fear. She stepped closer, touching his arm gently, grounding him.
“We need you, Kiaran,” she whispered. “Not as a weapon, not as something twisted by darkness, but as you. Promise me you won’t lose yourself to this.”
Her words stilled him, tempering the reckless hunger that still echoed in his bones. He met her gaze and nodded, feeling the weight of his own choice settle heavily on him. Then, with one last glance at the relic, he took a deep breath and reached out, allowing only the smallest thread of its power to bind to him.
The dark energy flowed into him, filling him with a strange, cold fire. He shuddered, feeling the curse awaken within him, melding with the relic’s energy. It was a part of him now, but under his control—barely.
They left the shrine, the air thick with the sense of something watching, lurking just beyond their vision. Sable walked beside him, a knowing look in his eyes. “That power will make you more enemies than you’ve ever had,” he muttered, almost as if in warning. “It’s a path few survive.”
Kiaran nodded, feeling a strange calm settle over him. His gaze turned back toward the direction they had come from, knowing the dangers were only beginning. The Guardian’s warning echoed in his mind, a reminder that power came with a price. And in this cursed world, that price was blood.
As they walked, the shadows seemed to close in, as though reminding him that darkness was never far behind. Yet within that darkness lay strength—a power he would wield, for better or worse, on the path to his revenge.