The mountains loomed higher, their peaks lost in thick clouds as the sun dipped behind the horizon. The air grew colder with each passing hour, and the path ahead was now barely visible, swallowed by the twilight shadows. Eryx felt the weight of exhaustion pulling at him, his legs burning from the relentless climb, but Lorian pushed them forward without slowing.
They had to keep moving. After the ambush, every minute spent on this path increased the risk of another attack.
"Lorian," Eryx panted, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air, "we should rest. Just for a moment."
Lorian shook his head, his eyes scanning the path ahead. "We can't stop. Not yet. They'll be watching the trails, waiting for us to slow down."
Eryx's stomach twisted with anxiety. He could feel it too—an oppressive presence lurking just out of sight. Ever since the battle with the stranger, he had felt something gnawing at the edges of his mind, like a dark storm gathering on the horizon. His powers had awakened something—he could sense it, but he didn't understand it.
"I don't get it," Eryx muttered as they continued forward. "Why now? Why are all these people after me? It's like they've been waiting for something."
"They have been," Lorian replied, his voice low and grim. "The moment you touched the crystal, it sent out a signal—one that every power-hungry seeker of the divine felt. They know what you are now, and they'll stop at nothing to claim that power."
Eryx swallowed hard. "But why me? Why not someone else?"
Lorian paused for a moment, glancing back at Eryx. His face was shadowed, but his eyes shone with an intensity that made Eryx's skin prickle.
"You were chosen, Eryx. Not just by the gods, but by fate. You carry the bloodline of the old gods—the last hope for balance in a world that's forgotten what that means. Whether you like it or not, you are a beacon now. Those who seek to control the divine will come for you because they know you're the key."
Eryx didn't respond. He had heard the words before—you're the key—but they never felt real until now. He had lived his entire life in the shadows, trying to stay unnoticed, and now he was the center of a storm that threatened to engulf the entire world.
As they pressed on, the path began to narrow, and the sound of rushing water reached Eryx's ears. They approached a wide ravine, with a steep drop into the depths below. A narrow stone bridge spanned the gap, slick with moisture from the waterfall cascading down the cliffs.
Lorian stopped at the edge of the bridge, surveying the scene. "We're close now," he said. "Once we cross this, we'll be in the valley of the Gates of Varnor. But we need to be careful—this place is sacred ground, and the trials are known to begin the moment you step onto it."
Eryx stared at the bridge, his heart pounding. There was no turning back now. The sanctuary was just ahead, but danger surrounded them on all sides.
As they began to cross, the wind picked up, howling through the ravine and whipping Eryx's cloak around him. The narrow bridge creaked under their weight, and Eryx gripped the edges tightly, his knuckles turning white. His senses screamed at him to be alert, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.
From the shadows on the far side of the bridge, a figure emerged—tall and cloaked in black, with eyes that gleamed like molten gold. Eryx felt the power radiating from the figure, stronger than anything he had faced before.
Lorian's hand shot to his sword, but the figure raised a hand, and a wave of energy rippled through the air, knocking them both to their knees.
"You've come far, boy," the figure said, his voice deep and cold. "But this is where your journey ends."
Eryx's heart thundered in his chest as he struggled to rise, the storm inside him stirring once again. This was no ordinary enemy. This was something far darker—something born from the gods' own shadow.
And it had come to claim him.