The rolling plains stretched endlessly, glowing faintly with mana-infused grass. Above them, the sky shimmered as if reflecting the energy of the land below. In the distance, the temple loomed—a shadowy structure blurred by the haze of mana, its silhouette both inviting and foreboding.
"So," Isla began, glancing at Auren's back as they walked, "what's your big plan once we get to that temple? You've been talking about power and answers, but I'm guessing it's more complicated than that."
Auren turned his head slightly, his pale hair catching the light. "Plans are overrated."
"That's rich coming from someone who's supposed to be a god," Isla shot back, rolling her eyes. "You're winging it, aren't you?"
"I don't 'wing it,'" Auren said, his tone sharp. "I adapt."
"Right," Isla muttered. "That's what all the great leaders say. 'I adapt.'"
"You're not as amusing as you think," Auren replied with a faint smirk.
"And you're more insufferable than I thought," Isla countered, though she couldn't help the small grin tugging at her lips.
The land shifted around them.
Every step brought new sights: crystalline trees that sparkled like ice, streams of water that shimmered with faint blue light, and plants with petals that shifted colors in a mesmerizing dance. The beauty of it all made Isla pause, her gaze darting from one wonder to the next.
"This world," she murmured, more to herself than to Auren. "It's incredible. Strange, but incredible."
"It's chaos," Auren said, his voice devoid of awe. "A world out of balance."
"Maybe," Isla replied, "but it's also alive in a way it wasn't before. Don't you think it's beautiful?"
Auren glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Beauty is a mortal preoccupation. It's fleeting, and therefore meaningless."
Isla frowned, turning away. "You really don't know how to appreciate anything, do you?"
"Appreciation is irrelevant," Auren said, his tone cold. "What matters is control."
"Of course you'd say that," Isla muttered. "Gods and their egos."
"Mortals and their sentimentality," Auren retorted, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
A low growl broke the quiet.
Isla froze, her heart racing as the sound echoed across the plains. It was deep and resonant, a predatory rumble that made the air feel heavier.
"Tell me that was the wind," she whispered.
"That wasn't the wind," Auren said, his runes flaring faintly. His eyes scanned the horizon, his demeanor calm but focused. "Something large. And close."
"Great," Isla muttered, her hand tightening around her pendant. "Because this day wasn't stressful enough already."
They pressed on, moving cautiously toward a structure that had appeared through the haze. It wasn't the temple they had seen earlier but something smaller—a shrine, half-buried in the ground and overgrown with glowing vines.
"Is that a building?" Isla asked, squinting to make out the details.
"Barely," Auren replied. "But it might be useful."
"Or it might be home to whatever made that sound," Isla countered.
Auren didn't reply. He was already walking toward it.
The shrine was ancient and eerie.
Its stone walls were cracked and weathered, the carvings on its surface worn smooth by time. Glowing moss clung to the walls, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. The air grew heavier as they approached, the mana pressing against Isla's chest.
"This place gives me the creeps," she muttered, glancing around nervously.
Auren smirked. "Afraid of shadows?"
"No," Isla said defensively. "Just... cautious."
"Caution is a mortal luxury," Auren said as he stepped through the arched entrance. "I suggest you abandon it."
"Thanks for the advice," Isla said dryly, following him inside.
The interior was worse.
The walls were covered in glowing runes, their patterns shifting like living things. The floor was littered with fragments of stone, each piece pulsing faintly with energy. In the center of the room stood an altar, its surface etched with intricate carvings that seemed to ripple under the light.
"What is this place?" Isla whispered, her voice barely audible.
"A remnant," Auren said, his tone thoughtful. "A fragment of the world as it was before the Mana Surge."
Isla stepped closer to the altar, her curiosity outweighing her unease. The runes on its surface glowed brighter as she approached, and a faint hum filled the air. "It feels... alive."
"It is," Auren said. "This place remembers."
"Remembers what?" Isla asked, glancing at him.
"Everything," Auren replied. His gaze was fixed on the altar, his expression darker now. "The gods who built it, the mortals who worshiped here, the power that once flowed through it. All of it is imprinted in the mana."
"That's... unsettling," Isla said, shivering.
"It should be," Auren said. "This is not a place for mortals."
The hum grew louder.
Before Isla could respond, the air around the altar shimmered, and a figure began to take shape. It was humanoid but indistinct, its form flickering like a mirage. Its eyes glowed faintly, and its presence filled the room with an oppressive weight.
"What is that?" Isla asked, her voice rising.
"A guardian," Auren said calmly. "This place isn't as forgotten as it looks."
The guardian stepped forward, its movements fluid and unnatural. Auren raised a hand, and the air around him rippled. In an instant, an illusion materialized—a towering figure clad in jagged armor, its blade gleaming with unnatural light. The guardian hesitated, its glowing eyes locking onto the illusion.
"Stay back," Auren said, his tone commanding.
The illusion moved forward, its footsteps echoing in the small space. The guardian lunged, its glowing limbs slicing through the air, but the illusion didn't falter. Instead, it struck back, its blade clashing with the guardian's in a burst of light.
Isla watched in awe as the illusion fought, its movements as fluid and precise as the guardian's. "It's real," she whispered. "How is it real?"
"To it, it is real," Auren said, his smirk faint. "Illusions are as much about belief as sight."
The battle escalated.
The guardian lashed out, its glowing form flickering as it tried to destabilize the illusion. Auren's runes flared brighter, and the illusion split into two identical figures, each one moving with lethal precision. The guardian faltered, its attention divided, and Auren seized the moment.
He stepped forward, his expression cold. The air shimmered again, and a glowing chain appeared, coiling around the guardian's limbs. The construct struggled, its form flickering violently as the chain tightened.
"End it," Auren said, his voice sharp.
The illusion moved in unison, striking the guardian with a final blow. The glowing figure shattered, its energy scattering into the air like embers.
The silence returned.
Isla let out a shaky breath, her knees threatening to give out. "That was... terrifying."
"For you, perhaps," Auren said, brushing dust from his sleeves. "For me, it was expected."
Isla shot him a glare. "You could at least pretend to be impressed."
"Why would I be impressed by something so trivial?" Auren asked, his smirk returning.
"Trivial," Isla muttered, shaking her head. "Right."
They left the shrine behind.
As they stepped back into the light of the plains, Isla glanced at Auren, her curiosity outweighing her frustration. "So, what was that thing guarding?"
"Nothing," Auren said simply.
"Nothing?" Isla repeated, her brow furrowing. "Then why—"
"Because the memory of power is sometimes stronger than power itself," Auren interrupted. "This place remembers what it was, and that memory is enough to create guardians."
"That's... unsettling," Isla said, shivering.
"Get used to it," Auren said, his tone sharp. "The past is rarely kind."