The forest pulsed faintly with life, its every tree, leaf, and blade of grass carrying the hum of mana. The Mana Surge had rewritten the rules of reality a month ago, leaving the world in a state of transition—half familiar, half alien. What should have been a tranquil forest was now a glowing labyrinth of twisted roots and shimmering foliage.
Isla Vale adjusted her lantern for the third time, mumbling curses under her breath as it slipped from her grasp. The motion knocked over her notebook, which slid off the uneven stone slab she'd been sketching and tumbled into the dirt.
"Perfect," she muttered, dropping to her knees to retrieve it. She brushed the mud from the cover, squinting at the smudged ink on the pages. "Because things weren't hard enough already."
Her lantern's dim light flickered over the stone slab she'd uncovered, highlighting the runes carved into its surface. They glowed faintly, their intricate patterns rippling like water. Isla leaned closer, her brow furrowing in concentration as she sketched the designs into her notebook.
"These don't match anything I've seen before," she murmured, her green eyes narrowing. "Are they pre-Surge? Or something older?"
The question hung unanswered in the air, though the faint hum of mana that radiated from the slab seemed to respond, vibrating faintly beneath her fingertips. Isla glanced toward the massive structure looming ahead—a temple, half-buried and concealed by vines that pulsed faintly with their own light.
"This place is impossible," she muttered. "But so was the Surge, I guess."
The air was heavy with tension.
Isla's camp, set up a few meters from the ruins, felt woefully inadequate against the strangeness around her. Her bedroll, tools, and provisions looked pitiful in contrast to the glowing trees and alien noises that echoed through the forest. Chirps, growls, and occasional crackles of energy broke the quiet, setting her nerves on edge.
Still, she couldn't leave. The ruins were unlike anything she'd studied before, and her profession as an archaeologist had never felt more urgent. The Mana Surge had shifted the boundaries of knowledge, making the impossible suddenly real. For Isla, uncovering the past was no longer just a pursuit—it was a way to make sense of the chaos.
"You'll be fine," she said aloud, as if trying to convince herself. "Just a quick look. In and out. Nothing crazy."
She approached the temple's doors with caution.
The runes carved into the massive stone glowed faintly, their patterns almost hypnotic in the lantern's light. Isla reached out, her hand hovering just above the surface. The air was colder here, and the hum of mana grew louder, vibrating deep in her chest.
Her fingers brushed the stone, and the vibrations intensified. Her stomach churned, but the pull of curiosity was stronger than her fear. She set her lantern down and pulled out a hammer and chisel from her satchel.
"This is a bad idea," she muttered, glancing back toward her camp. But she didn't stop. The runes looked fragile, their light flickering like a flame about to go out. Whatever was inside the temple, the seals meant to contain it were failing.
"One little tap," Isla whispered, raising the chisel. "Just enough to see what's inside."
The moment the chisel struck the stone, the air erupted with light and sound.
The runes shattered.
A wave of energy surged outward, knocking Isla off her feet and sending her tools clattering across the ground. She landed hard, her lantern skidding a few feet away as the temple trembled violently. The vines covering the doors disintegrated into ash, and the stone groaned as the massive doors began to part.
"Not good," Isla muttered, scrambling backward. "This is definitely not good."
The hum of mana grew deafening, a roar that drowned out the noise of the collapsing temple. Cold air rushed out from within, carrying the scent of ancient stone, dust, and something else—something alive.
From the darkness beyond the doors, a figure emerged.
He was otherworldly.
The man who stepped into the light was tall, his pale skin glowing faintly against the lantern's flickering glow. His white hair framed a face both sharp and regal, his features marked by an unyielding intensity. Shadows coiled around him, moving like living things. Dark runes glowed on his arms, faint but steady, their patterns shifting subtly.
His gaze locked onto Isla, freezing her in place. For a long moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.
"You," he said finally, his voice low and cold. "You broke the seal."
"I—what?" Isla stammered, her breath catching in her throat. "No! I mean, yes, but not on purpose! I was just—"
"Curious," he interrupted, his smirk faint but cutting. "Mortals always are."
"Excuse me?" Isla's fear was quickly replaced by indignation. "I'm not just some random mortal poking around! I'm an archaeologist. I study things like this."
"Study?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "Is that what you call breaking centuries-old wards and unleashing powers you can't comprehend?"
"I didn't know I was unleashing anything!" Isla argued, planting her hands on her hips. "And maybe you should say thank you. You're welcome, by the way."
His smirk widened, though his gaze grew colder. "Gratitude? You've done me a favor, yes. But gratitude is for equals. Don't flatter yourself."
The temple continued to collapse.
The ground trembled violently as the ancient structure gave way, the runes on the doors fading into darkness. Auren—his name revealed only later—stepped forward with deliberate grace, ignoring the chaos behind him.
"Wait!" Isla called after him. "Where are you going?"
"Anywhere but here," he replied, his tone clipped. "I've spent long enough in that tomb."
"And you think you can just—what? Walk into a world that's completely changed?" Isla demanded, hurrying to catch up. She tripped on a root, barely managing to catch herself before falling. "You don't even know where you're going!"
Auren paused, glancing over his shoulder with an amused expression. "And you do?"
"I have a map," Isla shot back, pulling the parchment from her satchel. "And unlike you, I actually know how to use it."
"Congratulations," Auren said dryly. "You've invented navigation."
"Don't be so smug," Isla snapped. "If you want to survive out here, you're going to need help."
Auren studied her, his smirk fading slightly. "Help? From you?"
"Yes, from me," Isla said firmly, crossing her arms. "You clearly don't know what the Mana Surge has done to the world."
"And you do?" Auren asked, his tone skeptical.
"I know enough to keep us alive," Isla said. "The Surge has changed everything—rules, landscapes, creatures. You think you can just walk around pretending to be a god?"
Auren tilted his head, his smirk returning. "Who said I was pretending?"
The forest grew darker as night fell.
The glow of mana-infused plants lit their path, but the shadows between the trees seemed to deepen with every step. Strange noises echoed around them—growls, chirps, and the occasional crackle of energy. Isla glanced nervously at the towering trees, their roots curling like claws across the forest floor.
"We need to find shelter," she said, her voice tight. "It's not safe out here after dark."
Auren raised an eyebrow. "Afraid of the dark?"
"I'm afraid of what's in the dark," Isla retorted. "And you should be too."
They eventually found a hollow beneath the roots of a massive tree. The space was just large enough for Isla's bedroll and a small fire, though Auren remained standing, his arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who claims to be a god," Isla said, breaking the silence.
"And you're awfully talkative for someone who just unleashed one," Auren replied with a faint smirk.
"Well, someone has to keep you in check," Isla muttered, settling into her bedroll. "You don't exactly scream 'team player.'"
Auren chuckled softly. "Let's hope your humor makes up for your clumsiness."
Isla scowled but didn't respond. As she drifted off to sleep, Auren's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his smirk fading into something colder.