The morning air was crisp when I left the town, the faint echo of its bells ringing in my ears as I walked south. The cobblestones gave way to dirt, and the noise of the square faded behind me. My pack sat heavily on my back, but the guiding stone's faint pulse in my chest felt heavier. Its presence was constant now, a silent tug pulling me forward. There was no clear path ahead—only the one it chose.
The terrain grew rougher as I followed the unseen call. Hills rolled out before me, dotted with gnarled trees and the occasional cluster of wildflowers. The air smelled of earth and grass, fresher than the crowded streets I'd left behind. I tightened the straps of my pack and pressed on.
The Dawnhound padded beside me, its glowing eyes scanning the horizon. It was a strange creature, its sleek fur shimmering faintly as though it were part of the dawn itself. I'd grown used to its presence, though I still didn't fully understand what bound us together. The way it chirped softly when I faltered or leaped ahead to scout the way—it was as if it knew me better than I knew myself.
Hours passed in silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves or the occasional birdcall. I paused to drink from a stream, the cold water shocking my senses awake. The stone's pulse quickened then, its warmth spreading through my chest. When I looked up, my gaze was drawn to a distant structure—a shadow on the horizon that hadn't been there before.
An old temple, half-hidden by the trees.
I wiped my mouth and stood, unease settling in my gut. The stone's tug was insistent now, pulling me toward the ruins. My feet moved before my mind could protest.
The temple loomed larger as I approached, its jagged spires clawing at the sky. Vines crept up its stone walls, their green tendrils curling around crumbled columns. The air was still here, heavy with the weight of something unseen. The Dawnhound bristled, its fur standing on end, but it didn't move away.
The entrance was a yawning archway, its stone edges carved with faded symbols I couldn't decipher. As I stepped inside, the temperature dropped, the cool air brushing against my skin like a whisper. The guiding stone pulsed steadily now, guiding me deeper into the shadows.
The hall was vast, its ceiling lost in the darkness above. Light streamed through cracks in the walls, illuminating fragments of shattered statues and broken altars. The floor was uneven, littered with debris that crunched beneath my boots. I moved cautiously, every step echoing in the emptiness.
And then I heard it.
A low, resonant hum, like the breath of the earth itself. It wasn't loud, but it reverberated through me, stirring something deep inside. I followed the sound, my heart pounding as the guiding stone pulsed in time with it.
The hum led me to a chamber at the heart of the temple. It was smaller than I expected, its walls adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shift under the flickering light. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it rested... something.
It wasn't stone, nor was it flesh. The creature—if it could be called that—was translucent, its form shifting like smoke caught in a glass jar. It shimmered faintly, its colors bleeding into one another in a mesmerizing dance. A Phaseling. I'd heard tales of such creatures but never thought I'd see one.
The Dawnhound growled low in its throat, stepping closer to my side. The Phaseling turned—or perhaps it didn't. Its form wavered, and then it was in front of me, though I hadn't seen it move. My hand instinctively went to the guiding stone, its warmth flaring under my touch.
The Phaseling didn't attack. It simply... observed. Its presence filled the room, its hum vibrating in my bones. I didn't understand what it wanted, but I felt an odd pull toward it as if some invisible thread connected us.
I extended a hand cautiously, palm up. The Dawnhound chirped in protest, but I held firm. The Phaseling hesitated—or at least, it seemed to—and then it drifted closer. Its form brushed against my skin, cool and insubstantial, like mist on a winter morning.
And then I felt it.
A surge of energy coursed through me, wild and untamed. Images flashed behind my eyes: a stormy sky, a forest alive with movement, a pack of beasts running together under the moonlight. The connection was brief but overwhelming, leaving me breathless.
The Phaseling retreated, its form flickering uncertainly. The guiding stone's pulse slowed, its warmth settling back into a steady rhythm. I realized then that the Phaseling was afraid—not of me, but of something else.
"Do you want to leave?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt strange in the silence, but the Phaseling seemed to understand. It hovered, its form rippling as if caught in an unseen breeze.
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure why. "Then come with me."
The Dawnhound made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, but it didn't stop me as I reached out again. This time, the Phaseling didn't hesitate. Its form enveloped my hand, cool and light as air. The guiding stone flared once more, and I felt the bond take root.
It wasn't like the bond I had with the Dawnhound. This was different—fragile, tentative, as though the Phaseling itself wasn't sure it wanted it. But it was there, a thread tying us together.
The hum faded, replaced by an almost oppressive silence. The Phaseling settled beside me, its form dimming but not disappearing. The Dawnhound sniffed at it warily before chirping in what might have been reluctant acceptance.
"We're leaving," I said, my voice firmer now. "Come on."
As we stepped back into the sunlight, I felt the weight of the temple lift from my shoulders. The Phaseling hovered close, its presence both comforting and unnerving. I still didn't know what the guiding stone was doing to me or why it had led me here, but for now, I didn't question it.
The road stretched out before us, the horizon promising more questions than answers. With the Dawnhound at my side and the Phaseling drifting behind me, I took the first step toward whatever lay ahead.