The god-king and Nia pressed deeper into the forest, the canopy thickening above them until only faint slivers of moonlight filtered through the branches. A tension hung in the air, palpable and heavy, as if the land itself held its breath. The faint whispers that had haunted the god-king's steps since his arrival now grew louder, more insistent. They weren't mere echoes in his mind—they were alive, calling him.
"Do you hear that?" Nia asked, her voice trembling. She gripped the hilt of the short knife she carried, though it was clear she didn't truly believe it would protect her.
He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. "It isn't a sound," he said. "It's the presence of something old, something waiting."
Nia didn't respond, but the unease in her eyes betrayed her fear. She had chosen to follow him, but now the weight of that decision was sinking in. There was no turning back, not when the forest seemed alive with purpose, shifting and guiding their steps.
They came to a sudden clearing. In its center stood a monolithic structure, worn and crumbling, yet still emanating a power that demanded reverence. Vines wrapped around its edges, and moss clung to the ancient stone, but the intricate carvings etched into its surface remained untouched by time. The sigils glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie light that made Nia step back.
"What is this place?" she whispered.
The god-king approached the structure, his gaze tracing the carvings with familiarity. His hand hovered above the surface, feeling the raw energy coursing through it. "This is a marker," he said, his voice low. "A gateway to something buried."
"Buried?" Nia asked.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pressed his palm against the stone. A surge of energy coursed through him, memories flashing in rapid succession—battlefields drenched in blood, towering cities of light, and the faces of those who had stood beside him in an age long past. Among those memories was a single warning, a voice that rang out like a bell in his mind: Do not awaken what lies beneath.
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Nia stumbled, clutching at a nearby tree for support. "What's happening?" she shouted.
The god-king withdrew his hand, his expression grim. "Something stirs," he said. "Something ancient."
As if in response to his words, the carvings on the monolith flared brighter. The air grew heavy, charged with an oppressive energy. From the shadows of the forest, a figure emerged. Its form was humanoid, but its movements were unnatural, jerking and fluid at once. Its body seemed to shift and warp, as though it were made of smoke and shadow.
Nia gasped, her knife trembling in her hand. "What is that?"
"A wraith," the god-king said, his tone steady but tense. "A remnant of the corruption. It is bound to this place."
The wraith moved closer, its featureless face turning toward them. Though it had no eyes, the god-king felt its gaze piercing through him, a cold, hateful thing. He stepped forward, placing himself between Nia and the creature.
"Stay back," he commanded her.
The wraith lunged without warning, its movements unnervingly fast. The god-king sidestepped, his reflexes honed by centuries of battle. His hand glowed faintly with a golden light as he struck out, the energy burning into the wraith's shadowy form. It hissed and recoiled, the sound like a thousand whispers overlapping in agony.
But the strike had cost him. The faint glow around his hand flickered and faded, leaving him breathless. His power was returning, but it was still weak, fragmented. He clenched his fist, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior.
The wraith attacked again, and this time, it was Nia who moved. She darted forward, slashing at the creature with her knife. Though the blade passed through its smoky form, the creature paused, as though the act of defiance had momentarily unsettled it.
"Foolish," the god-king muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in his voice. "It feeds on fear. Do not falter."
Nia stood her ground, her hands shaking but her eyes fierce. "I'm not letting it kill us," she said through gritted teeth.
The god-king stepped forward, his voice rising in a commanding tone. "Begone, shadow! You have no dominion over me!" His words carried weight, and the air around them seemed to shift. The wraith hesitated, its form flickering. For a brief moment, it appeared smaller, weaker.
The monolith pulsed with light once more, and the wraith let out a final, chilling wail before it dissolved into the night. The forest fell silent.
Nia collapsed to her knees, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "What… what was that thing?"
"A guardian," the god-king replied. "Or what remains of one. These places of power are not unprotected. The corruption twists what it touches, even those who were once loyal to the old ways."
He turned back to the monolith, his expression thoughtful. The glow had dimmed, but the energy remained, waiting. "This is only the beginning," he said. "There are greater shadows ahead."
Nia looked up at him, her fear replaced by determination. "If that's true, then you'll need help. You can't fight this alone."
He glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You are braver than you appear, Nia. But this path is not for the faint of heart."
She stood, gripping her knife tightly. "I've come this far. I'm not turning back now."
The god-king nodded, his gaze returning to the monolith. He could feel the pull of the ancient power within, a call that resonated deep in his soul. There was more to uncover, more to reclaim. But with each step forward, the darkness grew closer, and the weight of his past pressed heavier upon him.
"We move at dawn," he said. "The next marker lies beyond the mountains. Whatever waits for us there will not welcome us kindly."
And as they left the clearing, the faint whispering returned, weaving through the trees. The god-king felt it now more than ever: the past was not merely waiting to be rediscovered—it was hunting him.