As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, a damp and dark mist began to envelop the surroundings. The group members were trying to shake off the impact of the harrowing experience they had just endured.
Ceyhun, staring into the dark waters, murmured almost inaudibly, "Elowen." The transparent figure he had seen underwater had offered him a glimmer of hope on the merciless shores of the Cursed Lands.
Elara approached him, asking, "What happened?" Without looking at her, Ceyhun replied in a pensive tone, "I saw Elowen. Under the water… She was the one who gave me my sword. I can't tell if it was a dream or reality."
Elara took a deep breath. "I am a sorceress, Ceyhun. My power has its rules and limits. But the knowledge that dreamers possess is of a different kind altogether. Know this—I trust Elowen. Her wisdom has guided us out of the darkness many times before. I have no doubt that she helped you," she said with unwavering confidence.
Aric, scanning the area cautiously, chimed in. "It's not wise to stay here long; we should move on."
Elara disagreed. "I know, sleeping in these lands at night is a great risk. But if we don't rest, we'll suffer even more losses."
Ceyhun understood Elara's concern. "Yes, it's risky. But we have no other choice. We need to rest," he said. Rising to his feet, he continued, making sure the crew could hear him, "We'll set up camp here. We'll honor our fallen comrade and spend the night here."
Aric did not protest the decision. "So be it. I'll take the first watch. You all get some rest," he said.
The crew lit a small fire by the shore. As the flames cast a faint light through the mist, prayers were said to the gods for their fallen comrade. Elara clasped her hands to her chest and murmured, "May your soul find peace." Then, turning to Ceyhun, who sat lost in thought by the fire, she asked, "In your world, how do you cope with such losses?"
Ceyhun took a deep breath. "The pain of loss is the same everywhere," he said. "The death of our comrade saddened me deeply as well. But I am a stranger here. During our short journey, we hardly spoke. Since he was one of your people, I ask—did you know him well?"
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Dear reader, the death of this minor character affected us deeply… or at least, it tried to. But let's be honest, as Ceyhun was recounting this part, even we felt a bit of a yawn coming on. From what we know, this guy had an elderly mother, and his family had been fishermen for generations. We just remembered his name—Rami, wasn't it? Anyway, may he rest in peace. But let's not get too sidetracked; back to the main story.
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As the night wore on, Ceyhun, Elara, and the remaining members of the crew fell asleep, leaving Aric on the first watch. Aric was the village's best scout and a formidable warrior. His keen eyes, disciplined nature, and attentive demeanor made him well-suited for the task.
As Aric kept watch, the faint light of the fire, flickering in the wind, caused strange movements and reflections in the surrounding mist. But then, he felt a pair of eyes watching him from within the fog. He squinted, peering into the depths of the darkness. A silhouette appeared in the mists. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as he focused, he recognized the pale face emerging from the swirling fog.
Aric's breath caught, and his heart began to race. "This… this is impossible," he murmured. Unable to tear his gaze away from the figure, he called out, "Rami!" Rami's figure appeared for a moment in the mist before vanishing into the darkness. Aric stood frozen, unsure of what to do, desperately trying to determine whether what he had seen was real or just a figment of his imagination. But there was no sound, no breath, nothing.
"This must be a dream," he thought, but even this thought failed to comfort him. He quickly moved to wake his companions. But no matter how hard he tried, neither Ceyhun nor the others stirred. It was as if they were under some kind of spell, lost in a deep sleep. A wave of fear spread through Aric. His eyes turned back to the darkness, and this time, he saw Rami again.
Rami was now further away, standing with his back turned. The mist swirled around the figure, almost swallowing him. Without hesitation, Aric grabbed a log from the fire and used it as a torch, beginning to follow Rami. The flickering light of the torch illuminated only a few steps ahead in the mist, but Aric pressed on. With every step, the fear inside him grew stronger.
When he reached the riverbank, he saw Rami once more. Rami stood still, his back still turned. Aric slowly approached and whispered, "Rami… is that you?" But there was no response from Rami. Aric tightened his grip on the torch with his trembling hand and reached out to touch Rami's shoulder. A chill ran through him as his hand made contact. He turned Rami around to face him.
Rami's face was decayed, as if it had been rotting in the water for weeks. Worms crawled over his skin, and his eyes stared blankly and meaninglessly at Aric. Blood-tinged foam oozed from his mouth, and strips of flesh and skin hung from his chin. Aric's heart pounded wildly, and his breath quickened. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the mutilated, decaying body of his friend. He took a few steps back, but Rami's eyes continued to follow him.
He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. It was as if this nightmare had clung to him, refusing to let go. He heard a muffled whisper echoing through the mist. Rami's lips didn't move, but Aric heard that terrible voice. "You… called me… here…" the figure said in a deep, grave-like voice.
Aric turned and ran without looking back. Though he was an excellent ranger, the terror he felt made him careless. When his foot caught on a stone and he fell to the ground, the torch in his hand extinguished. The mist and darkness swallowed him whole.
---
The monotonous beep of the coffee machine caused Ceyhun to open his sleepy eyes. He had fallen asleep at his computer keyboard. As he rubbed his eyes, he felt as though he had just emerged from a deep dream. He couldn't grasp the hazy memories in his mind, nor could he recall the dream he had seen.
Remembering that his coffee was ready, he headed to the kitchen. However, the kitchen was dark, and outside, there was nothing but pitch-black darkness. He was startled, realizing that it should have been midday when he first started the coffee machine, and the coffee should have been ready long ago. "How could so much time have passed?" he thought, uneasily, as he decided to skip making his coffee and instead headed towards the office's entrance hall.
When he tried to open the office's exit door, he discovered that it was locked. He thought that Türkan Abla, the cleaning lady, might have locked the door from the outside without realizing that Ceyhun had fallen asleep inside. He considered calling the building staff who had a spare key.
He decided to return to the room where he had been working to get his phone. However, as he looked into the deep darkness of the corridor, he noticed something strange. The corridor stretched on, seemingly extending into infinity. When he turned around, he realized that both ends of the corridor led into a dark void.
Suddenly, he heard a chilling voice coming from all directions. A familiar voice echoed, "Ceyhun…" It was a deep, haunting tone, calling out to him. He recognized it as Lorthar's voice.
He started running down the dark corridor. But it was impossible to escape a voice coming from every direction. With each step, the darkness grew deeper. He stopped running and stood still. For a moment, he remained in the midst of a black infinity. Then, he found himself in a dungeon, with his hands and feet chained in a cross-like position. In front of him, two figures appeared—a woman and a man.
The woman stood out with her black hair and black eyes, eyes that seemed to hold no whites, only a deep darkness. Her face reminded him of someone familiar. "Elara?" he thought. The woman's face did resemble Elara's, but in some ways, it was different— a sharper chin, more angular features, and a more sinister gaze. This was Lyra, Elara's sister.
The other figure was Lorthar's shadow. "Do not touch him," Lorthar said in a deep, grave-like voice. "If you bring him to me, I will forgive you."
The woman spoke with a mocking tone. "Touch him? No, he's yours, but the others belong to me," she said. Her voice echoed off the walls of the dark dungeon, deepening Ceyhun's fear.