The descent from the plateau was slow, the silence between the god-king and Nia thick with unspoken questions. Nia could sense the weight pressing on him, though she couldn't begin to comprehend it. Every step took them farther from the relative safety of the plateau and deeper into the unknown. The faint glow from the restored marker still lingered in the horizon behind them, but it did little to ease her growing unease.
"Was it worth it?" she finally asked, breaking the quiet.
The god-king didn't look at her, his gaze fixed ahead. "Every step toward restoring the markers is necessary."
"But you were nearly killed," she said, her voice wavering. "You're not as powerful as you once were. What happens if something stronger comes for us? What happens if you…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His eyes, though weary, burned with determination. "I do not have the luxury of failure," he said. "This is not about my survival. It is about undoing the rot that has spread through this world. If I fall, then all is lost."
Nia stared at him, caught between awe and fear. She wanted to believe in his cause, to trust that his purpose was noble, but the weight of his words crushed any sense of certainty. Was she truly prepared to follow him into the depths of a world that had already turned its back on him?
The trail narrowed as they entered a dense forest at the mountain's base. The trees were ancient, their gnarled roots breaking through the rocky ground. A thick mist clung to the air, muffling the sound of their footsteps and making the world feel smaller, enclosed. The light filtering through the canopy was pale and cold, casting everything in shades of gray.
"This place feels… wrong," Nia murmured, gripping her knife instinctively.
"It should," the god-king replied, his voice low. "This forest was once a place of great power, a sanctuary for those who served the old ways. Now, it is but a shadow of what it was—a graveyard for memories."
The mist seemed to grow thicker as they walked, and with it came a faint sound, like distant whispers. Nia froze, her heart pounding. "Do you hear that?"
He nodded. "The echoes of those who were lost here."
"Lost?"
"Those who guarded this place in the past. When the corruption spread, they stood against it… and paid the price."
As if summoned by his words, the whispers grew louder, coalescing into distinct voices. They were mournful, filled with sorrow and regret, and yet there was something malevolent beneath them, an edge of anger that made the hair on the back of Nia's neck stand on end.
The mist began to swirl, and shadowy figures emerged from the gloom. They were barely human, their forms fragmented and insubstantial, like broken reflections in a shattered mirror. Their eyes glowed faintly, and their movements were jerky and unnatural.
"The lost ones," the god-king said, his voice grim.
"They're… spirits?" Nia asked, her voice trembling.
"In a sense," he replied. "They are trapped here, bound by the corruption that claimed them. They cannot rest, and they will not let us pass unchallenged."
The nearest figure lunged, its fragmented form moving with unnatural speed. The god-king stepped forward, raising his hand. A faint golden light flickered around his fingers, but it was weaker than before. The battle with the sentinel had drained him, and the restoration of the marker had given him little time to recover.
The spirit struck, its shadowy limbs slicing through the air. The god-king dodged, countering with a burst of light that sent the figure reeling. But no sooner had he struck it than another spirit charged, followed by more.
Nia's instincts screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to stand her ground. Gripping her knife tightly, she darted forward, slashing at one of the spirits. Her blade passed through it, and though it didn't seem to harm the creature, it staggered slightly, as if confused by her defiance.
"Keep them off me!" the god-king commanded. "I need time to focus."
Nia nodded, swallowing her fear as she moved to intercept another spirit. Though her knife couldn't hurt them, her movements seemed to distract them, giving the god-king the opening he needed.
He knelt on the ground, his hand pressed against the soil. The golden light around him grew brighter, spreading outward in a faint circle. The spirits recoiled, their forms flickering as the light touched them.
"You were guardians once," the god-king said, his voice resonating with authority. "Bound by duty to protect this land. I command you now: stand down!"
The spirits hesitated, their fragmented forms flickering between aggression and something more human. For a moment, it seemed as though his words had reached them. But then the malevolence returned, stronger than before. They howled, their voices rising in a cacophony of rage as they surged forward.
The god-king grimaced, the strain of holding the light evident on his face. "Their minds are too far gone," he said. "The corruption has consumed them."
"What do we do?" Nia shouted, dodging another attack.
"We purify them."
Before Nia could ask how, the god-king raised both hands, the golden light flaring brighter. The ground beneath them trembled, and the air grew heavy with energy. The light spread outward in a blinding wave, washing over the spirits.
The spirits let out a final, mournful wail as the light consumed them. Their forms dissolved into the mist, leaving behind only silence.
When the light faded, the god-king slumped to his knees, his breathing ragged. Nia rushed to his side, her concern overriding her fear.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He nodded slowly, though his exhaustion was evident. "They are free now," he said. "Their pain has ended."
Nia glanced around the forest, which now seemed less oppressive. The mist was beginning to lift, and the whispers had faded into nothingness.
"Is it always like this?" she asked quietly.
The god-king managed a faint smile. "It will only grow harder from here."
Nia sighed, shaking her head. "You have a strange way of inspiring confidence."
As they continued through the forest, the god-king couldn't shake the weight of what had just occurred. Each battle drained him further, and the path ahead promised even greater challenges. Yet despite his weariness, he felt a glimmer of hope.
The light was returning, piece by piece. But he knew that for every fragment he reclaimed, the darkness would push back harder.
And somewhere in the distance, beyond the mountains, he could feel it: a presence waiting for him, vast and malevolent. The true corruption had not yet revealed itself, but it was watching.
Waiting.