The woman's voice was a breath on the wind, eerie and soft, yet it struck Ziya like a thunderclap.
"The darkness that follows you… it has a name."
Ziya's heart jolted in her chest. The words felt like an omen, thick and heavy, hanging in the air around them like a shroud. Khalid's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. The camp had fallen eerily silent, the only sound the howling wind and the crackle of the campfire. Everyone was on edge.
"What do you know of it?" Khalid's voice was low and measured, but there was a dangerous edge to it.
The woman stepped forward, her form draped in shadows, her face hidden by a veil that shimmered with an unsettling, otherworldly glow. She seemed to move with unnatural grace, as though the earth itself bent to her will. The night seemed to darken around her, an oppressive weight settling over the group.
"Nekhet," she whispered, the word an ancient hiss, like a curse from the depths of time itself. "The one you run from. The one who has chosen you, Ziya. The curse is not something to be outrun. It is a shadow. A hunger. And it will not stop until it claims you."
Ziya's breath caught in her throat. Nekhet. The name sent a chill crawling down her spine, an all-too-familiar sense of dread rising in her chest. She knew the name—had heard it whispered in the darkest corners of her childhood, in the forbidden stories her mother had once told her to keep her from asking questions. A shadow, a force that devoured not just flesh, but souls.
"No." Ziya shook her head, her voice shaky. "You're lying. That's—"
The woman's laugh was soft, almost pitying. "You think you can escape it? You think Nekhet has forgotten you?" She stepped closer, her presence suffocating, as if the very air was thickening. "It has always been with you, Ziya. From the moment of your birth. You carry its mark. And now, it has come to claim its prize."
Khalid moved forward, his gaze sharp, his jaw tight. "What do you want with her?" he demanded. "What does Nekhet want?"
The woman's smile was cold, cruel. "It does not want her. It needs her. The curse is not a creature of hunger. It is a force of balance, of destruction. And in order for the balance to be restored, the one marked must die. Ziya's blood is the key. It always has been."
Ziya stumbled backward, the words like ice sinking into her veins. Her heart pounded in her chest. This wasn't just about magic—it wasn't just about a curse. This was something older, darker. And she was the center of it.
The air around them seemed to grow colder, the wind turning sharp with an unnatural chill. The fire sputtered, flickering erratically, and the earth beneath their feet shifted slightly, as though the land itself was trembling. The shadows surrounding the woman deepened, stretching unnaturally long, and Ziya could feel the pull of them, tugging at the edges of her mind.
Before she could speak again, the ground cracked with a deafening sound.
The earth split open, and from the darkened chasm rose something—no, someone—a figure of pure shadow. It was not human, nor was it beast. It was a shape of darkness itself, writhing and shifting, its form indistinct and ever-changing. The night seemed to bend around it, the very air thickening as if suffocating under its presence.
The shadow stretched upward, towering, massive, its form made of swirling darkness, tendrils curling around the camp. It had no eyes, no face—only the vast, oppressive void that filled the space. It looked at them, though, in a way that went beyond sight. Ziya felt it in her bones, in the marrow of her soul, a gaze that went beyond the physical world and straight into her deepest fears.
"Ziya…" the shadow crooned, its voice a low, rasping whisper, but it echoed in her mind, louder than thunder.
Her name.
The voice was a thousand voices, all speaking in unison, and yet each one was as individual as a scream in the dark. Ziya froze, her breath catching. She wanted to scream, to run, but her feet wouldn't move. Her mind felt paralyzed, trapped by the cold weight of the shadow's presence.
The shadow's form seemed to twist, tendrils of darkness reaching toward her. With each step it took, the temperature dropped. The sand around them began to swirl, swept up by an unnatural wind, and Ziya could feel the ground beneath her feet quaking, the earth alive with an alien energy. Her skin prickled, as though the very air was charged with a malevolent force.
"Khalid," she whispered, barely able to speak. "I—I can't…"
The woman who had spoken of the curse stood silently, watching them with a detached smile. The shadows around her were beginning to move of their own accord, crawling, writhing, as if alive. Her eyes gleamed with a knowing, a cruel certainty that made Ziya's stomach twist.
Khalid's eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, Ziya thought she saw something more than just the hardened soldier in him. There was a flicker of vulnerability, something raw and human, buried beneath the steel of his resolve.
"Stay close," he said, his voice low, urgent.
The shadow's rasping voice echoed again. "Ziya… Come to me. Your time is here. Your blood calls to me.*"
Ziya's breath caught. She could feel it—the pressure in her chest, the tug of the darkness reaching into her very soul. It wasn't just trying to break her—it was trying to consume her.
And it would succeed if she let it.
"No!" Ziya cried out, her voice raw, hoarse. She could feel the magic within her stirring, rising to meet the shadow's pull. For a moment, it felt as though the world was collapsing around her. Her vision blurred. Her heart raced, her skin burning with the power she had fought so long to suppress.
The shadow let out a sound—a low, mournful wail—filling the night with its haunting, twisted song. And then, the earth shattered.
A massive crack split the ground open, sending a shockwave of energy across the camp. Ziya staggered, her body racked with the strain of the curse's power clawing at her from within. She could hear Khalid shouting, his voice drowned out by the rumbling noise that shook the earth beneath them.
And then, something snapped.
Ziya's hand clenched around the amulet beneath her robes, and she screamed.
A surge of power shot through her, an explosion of magic unlike anything she had ever felt. It wasn't just her blood anymore—it was the blood of the land, of the curse itself, mingling with her own. The darkness recoiled. The shadow shuddered, as though it had been struck by something far more ancient, far more powerful.
And then, the wind ceased. The ground stilled.
Ziya collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, her hands trembling. She looked around, her vision swimming with dizziness. The shadow had receded, but the weight of its presence lingered, a promise that it would return.
Khalid was at her side in an instant, his hand gripping her arm, steadying her. "Ziya… are you all right?"
She nodded, though she wasn't sure she believed it. The battle wasn't over. She knew that now. The curse had only just begun to reveal its true nature, and the shadows that had followed her would not rest until they had what they came for.
But in that moment, she felt something else, too—a strength. One that had been dormant inside her for far too long.
Together, she and Khalid would face what was coming.
And they would not fall alone.