The trio arrived at Alora's home, a secluded cottage nestled at the outskirts of the Syvn Woods. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and ancient tomes. Alora spread a map across a worn oak table, the strange markings from the livestock sketched in meticulous detail. Kiara and Kaidën stood close, their eyes scanning the symbols as Alora consulted her books, her fingers tracing arcane diagrams. The cottage, bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight, became their sanctuary, a place where the mysteries of the Dreamwalker's influence began to unravel.
The flickering candlelight cast grotesque shadows on the weathered parchment spread across the table. Kiara, brow furrowed in concentration, traced a line with her calloused finger. "Look here," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "These symbols… they match the markings found on the villagers' livestock in Eldridge."
Kaidën leaned closer, his astral blade casting an ethereal blue glow on the map. "They're similar, but not identical. Here, the lines are sharper, more defined."
Alora, her eyes narrowed in thought, tapped her staff against the wooden floor. "The symbols… they're a form of ancient script, used to mark places of power, or… vulnerability."
A spark of understanding ignited in Kiara's eyes. "Vulnerability? Like a weak spot in the barrier between the dreamscape and the waking world?"
Alora nodded slowly. "Precisely. These markings could indicate a place where the Dreamwalker's influence is strongest, a gateway or perhaps somewhere he might be using to manipulate the real world."
A tense silence descended upon the room, broken only by the rhythmic crackle of the candle flame. The map, a simple parchment depicting Salakar's major settlements, now held a new significance.
"We need to find places with these markings," Kaidën said, his voice resolute. "If they're connected, they'll lead us to him."
Alora tapped a finger on the map, her eyes glowing with an emerald light. "There's only one location marked dominantly with these symbols – the abandoned city of Xaraxis." She whispered, her breath hitched. Xaraxis, a once-grand city, stood as a crumbling testament to a bygone era, a place shrouded in unsettling whispers and local legends.
"Xaraxis?" Kaidën echoed, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. "An abandoned city. Are you sure?"
Alora met his gaze steadily. "The locals… they say the city is cursed. People have gone missing there, all vanished without a trace. Perhaps it's not a curse, but the Dreamwalker's influence, manipulating the very fabric of reality from there. If there's anywhere he could be, it would be there."
The weight of their mission pressed down on Kiara. The rumors of Xaraxis, the chilling connection to the Dreamwalker's mark… Xaraxis was a gamble, but it was worth the shot.
"We must go," Kiara declared, her voice firm despite the curiosity gnawing at her. "The fate of Salakar depends on this."
With a shared look of understanding, they set out immediately, leaving the familiar comfort of Alora's home behind. The journey to Xaraxis was not too far. They journeyed across plains and through sparse, dusty scrubland. As they neared the city, the air grew thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the mournful cry of a lone bird circling high above.
The city gates stood as skeletal sentinels, guarding a labyrinth of cracked streets and crumbling towers. A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air, a weight that seemed to press down on their very essence. Here, amidst the ruins of Xaraxis, they hoped to find not just a gateway, but the Necronomicon, or the Dreamwalker himself.
Kaidën, Alora and Kiara exchanged a wary glance as they entered Xaraxis, its towering ruins casting long, eerie shadows that danced with their every step. The air seemed to hum with an unspoken tension, each breath drawn in reluctantly, as if the very atmosphere resisted their intrusion.
Around them, the remnants of the once-grand city stood in silent testimony to its past glory, now reduced to skeletal structures overgrown with creeping vines. The light that filtered through the broken rooftops was muted, casting a ghostly pallor over the decaying stonework. The oppressive silence was punctuated only by the distant call of a bird and the faint rustle of leaves, amplifying the sense of foreboding that hung over the place like a shroud.
"The locals…" Kiara muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind whistling through the skeletal remains of buildings. "Said the city is cursed. No one enters and returns. Quite odd."
Kaidën adjusted the straps of his armour, the hilt of his blade glinting. "Cursed, or… manipulated by the Dreamwalker?"
Alora, ever the pragmatist, tapped her staff against the cracked pavement. "There's a reason the locals say so. Something happened here. Perhaps a gateway opened up, a point where the dreamscape and the waking world became thin enough for the Dreamwalker to exert his influence."
A question ran through Kiara's mind. Could it be the key to the Dreamwalker's physical presence in Salakar?
Steeling themselves, they ventured into the city's decaying heart. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of their boots on loose stones. Everywhere they looked, crumbling statues and weathered murals hinted at a forgotten past. The air hung heavy with the smell of dust and decrepitude, a fitting atmosphere for a city abandoned and consumed by its own secrets.
As they navigated the maze-like streets, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Shadows seemed to writhe and twist at the edges of their vision, and as they went on the rumors about the city clawed at their minds.
Suddenly, Kaidën stopped, his hand outstretched. "Look," he said, his voice low.
Kiara and Alora followed his gaze to a faded inscription carved into a crumbling wall. It depicted a nightmarish creature, its form shifting and melding like a living shadow, reaching out with clawed hands towards a swirling vortex.
"It's the Dreamwalker," Kiara breathed, a cold dread settling in her stomach.
"And that…" Alora pointed to the swirling vortex, "that must be the point of convergence, where the Dreamscape and reality touch."
A loud clang echoed through the deserted streets, making them stay on alert. They whirled around to see a stray metal sheet clattering in the wind. But the sound lingered, a disconcerting echo that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Then, a shadowy figure emerged from the shadows, its movements slow and deliberate, cloaked and hooded, with its face obscured. The air seemed to chill as it stepped into the dim light, the folds of its cloak rustling ominously.
"Lost, are we?" the figure rasped, its voice a distorted whisper.
A palpable sense of menace radiated from the figure, a cold touch against Kiara's already heightened senses. Kiara drew her daggers, the metallic whisper of the blades slicing through the tension. Her hand was steady. Kaidën instinctively raised his blade, its blue glow casting an eerie light on the surrounding ruins. Alora gripped her staff tightly, her eyes narrowing with focused determination.
"Why would you think so?" Kaiden asked, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.