The fire in the inn's hearth was little more than embers when I finally laid down on the rough mattress, its warmth just barely lingering in the room. The creaks and groans of the old inn building filled the silence, but it was not those sounds that kept me awake. My thoughts were a tangled mess of uncertainty, fear, and a nagging sense that we were still being watched.
Leon's words from earlier that evening haunted me: *They're hunting us.* He had sounded so certain, so unshaken, despite the horror of what it implied. It was one thing to be running from the Abyss—the ancient force that had consumed so much of our world—but now, to have something new, something unknown, pursuing us in the shadows… it felt like we were slipping into a deeper, darker game, one whose rules we didn't yet understand.
I turned over in the bed, the rough linen sheets scratching against my skin, and stared out of the window. The village outside was quiet, the only movement coming from the wind as it rustled the trees and whipped through the narrow streets. I should've felt safe, sheltered here for the night, but instead, unease settled into my bones like the cold mist that hung in the air.
In the stillness, I heard it—a faint whisper, barely more than a breath. My heart thudded in my chest, and I sat up, straining to listen. The sound came again, like a voice just beyond the edge of hearing, indistinct but unsettling. I held my breath, trying to catch more of it, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
For a long moment, I stayed frozen in the bed, my pulse hammering in my ears. I told myself it was nothing—a trick of the wind, or my imagination getting the better of me after everything we'd been through. But the feeling of being watched, the sensation of something out there in the dark, refused to leave me.
I got out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Karis or Leon in the adjoining rooms. The floorboards creaked underfoot as I crept to the window, peering out into the night. The village lay still, bathed in the faint light of a crescent moon. Nothing moved in the streets, and yet… I couldn't shake the feeling that something was there, hiding just out of sight.
Suddenly, a shadow flickered at the edge of my vision, near the trees that bordered the village. My heart leaped into my throat. I squinted, trying to make out any movement, but the trees stood tall and unmoving, their branches swaying gently in the wind. I could've sworn I saw something—a figure, a shape, something that didn't belong.
Before I could think better of it, I grabbed my coat and sword and quietly slipped out of the room. The old stairs creaked as I descended, but the inn was silent, the patrons and villagers having long since retired for the night. The innkeeper had left the fire to burn out, and the common room was filled with shadows, making every corner feel like it was watching me.
I hesitated for a moment at the door, hand resting on the hilt of my sword. Going out alone in the dead of night wasn't the smartest move, especially given what we had heard from the villagers and what we had seen in Redstone. But something was pulling me, a need to see for myself, to confirm whether we truly were being hunted.
The night air was cold as I stepped outside, the wind biting at my skin. The village was even quieter than it had looked from the window, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the trees. I kept my steps light and quick, heading toward the edge of the village where I had seen the shadow.
As I approached the tree line, I slowed, my eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The moonlight filtered weakly through the branches, casting long, eerie shadows across the ground. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stilled entirely—no wind, no sound, just the oppressive silence of the night.
Then I heard it again. The whisper.
It was clearer now, closer, but still indistinct, like a voice speaking in a language I couldn't understand. I gripped my sword tighter, my pulse quickening as I stepped forward into the trees. The sound seemed to be coming from deeper within the woods, drawing me in like a siren's call.
I stopped just inside the tree line, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The village was now a faint glow behind me, the lights from the windows barely visible through the thick canopy of trees. I strained to listen, trying to pick up the source of the whisper, but the forest was eerily quiet.
Suddenly, something moved—a flicker of motion in the shadows ahead. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I thought I saw a figure standing among the trees, watching me, but when I blinked, it was gone.
A rustle of leaves to my left made me whip around, sword raised. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that it drowned out everything else. I took a cautious step forward, my eyes scanning the underbrush, but there was nothing. No sign of movement, no sound—just the oppressive weight of the forest pressing in around me.
I was about to turn back when the whisper came again, louder this time, clearer. It wasn't a single voice, but a chorus—a multitude of voices, all speaking at once, their words overlapping and intertwining. It was like a song, but distorted, twisted into something dark and unnatural.
I took another step forward, drawn by the sound. My sword felt heavy in my hand, and my legs trembled beneath me. The voices were coming from deeper within the woods, pulling me further away from the village, away from safety.
And then, just as quickly as it had started, the whispering stopped.
I stood there, frozen in place, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest was silent again, but the feeling of being watched was stronger than ever. I turned slowly, scanning the trees for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Just shadows.
A sudden rustling behind me made me spin around, sword raised. My heart leaped into my throat, but there was nothing there—only the trees, swaying gently in the wind. I took a step back, my mind racing, and then another.
And then I saw it.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the shadows, was a figure. It was tall, its body shrouded in darkness, but its eyes—its eyes were glowing, a dull, sickly yellow that cut through the night like twin lanterns. They stared at me, unblinking, watching.
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the hilt of my sword. The figure didn't move, didn't make a sound, but its presence was enough to send a wave of terror crashing over me. I wanted to run, to turn and flee back to the safety of the village, but my feet wouldn't move. I was rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away from those glowing orbs.
Then, slowly, the figure raised one hand and pointed directly at me.
A shiver ran down my spine, and finally, I found the strength to move. I turned and bolted, my heart pounding in my ears as I sprinted back toward the village. The trees seemed to close in around me, their branches reaching out like claws, but I didn't stop. I didn't dare look back.
The whispering started again, louder this time, chasing me through the woods. The voices were clearer now, their words forming in my mind, though I didn't understand them. It was like they were speaking directly into my soul, filling my head with their dark, twisted song.
I burst out of the trees, my lungs burning as I sprinted down the road toward the inn. The village was silent, the windows dark, but I didn't stop until I reached the door. I threw it open and slammed it behind me, my back pressed against the wood as I struggled to catch my breath.
The inn was quiet, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. Karis and Leon were still upstairs, unaware of the terror that had chased me through the woods. I stood there, my body trembling, my mind racing.
Whatever was out there, it was getting closer. And it wasn't going to stop until it found us.
---
The next morning, I sat at the table in the inn's common room, my hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea. Karis and Leon sat across from me, their faces pale and drawn. I had told them everything—about the whispering, the shadowy figure, the glowing eyes.
"We need to leave," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever is out there, it's coming for us. We can't stay here."
Karis nodded, her expression grim. "I agree. We'll gather our things and leave within the hour."
Leon said nothing, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. He had been quiet all morning, more withdrawn than usual, but I didn't have the energy to press him. We were all on edge, the fear of what lay beyond the village weighing heavily on us.
As we finished our breakfast and prepared to leave, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap—that whatever had been watching me in the woods was waiting for us to make our next move.
But we had no choice. We couldn't stay in the village, not with the shadows closing