The air inside the ancient ruins felt heavy, thick with the weight of history and something darker, something unseen. Rowan's pulse quickened as he glanced around, feeling the oppressive silence stretch on longer than it should. Ardyn was sitting motionless, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows, ever vigilant. But Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that the ruin was alive, as though the stones themselves had witnessed untold horrors and whispered their secrets into the wind.
Every instinct told him to run, to flee from the place. But he didn't. They were trapped here for the moment, and running wasn't an option. Not anymore. They had no choice but to wait out the night, and pray that whatever was hunting them didn't catch them off guard.
"Ardyn…" Rowan started, his voice barely above a whisper. The fear that had been mounting in his chest finally broke through. "What are we really running from?"
Ardyn's gaze never shifted from the shadows, but his voice was calm, almost detached. "It's not just the soldiers, Rowan. It's not even the beasts that roam these lands. There's something older, something… far worse than anything you've encountered before. It's hunting us."
Rowan swallowed, the words settling in his gut like a stone. He had known they weren't the only ones being hunted, but this? This felt different. "What… what do you mean? What's hunting us?"
Ardyn's eyes flicked toward him, narrowing as he considered the question. For a long moment, he didn't answer. Rowan felt a cold shiver run down his spine, and the silence between them stretched out even further. Then, Ardyn spoke.
"It's the Curse," he said, his voice low. "It's not just a story. Not just some myth."
Rowan frowned, trying to recall everything he'd read before being thrust into this world. He'd read about curses, of course, but they were usually part of legends, things spoken of in passing, with no real substance behind them. "The Curse?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. "What do you mean?"
Ardyn stood suddenly, his hand going to the sword at his side. "Not here. It's not safe to talk about it."
Rowan felt his stomach twist with unease. He didn't like the sound of that. But he didn't press further. Instead, he focused on the strange feeling gnawing at his nerves. Something was wrong here. Something was watching them, and it wasn't just the remnants of a lost, ancient world.
They sat in tense silence for what felt like an eternity. The wind had died down, leaving the air still, too still. It was as though even nature had grown quiet in the face of something unknown. The occasional shift of Rowan's weight or the soft scrape of Ardyn's boots against the stone were the only sounds that filled the air. The silence seemed unnatural in this place, and with every passing moment, Rowan felt more and more suffocated by it.
Then, it came. A sound—a whisper in the wind. But it wasn't the wind. Rowan froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He turned toward Ardyn, but the mercenary was already on his feet, his hand on the hilt of his blade.
"Did you hear that?" Rowan asked, barely able to keep his voice steady.
Ardyn didn't answer immediately, his eyes narrowing as he strained to hear over the silence. Rowan held his breath, listening hard. There it was again—faint, like a breath, like a voice carried on the wind, but this time, it was clearer.
"Rowan…" The whisper was soft, but it echoed in the ruin, as though the very walls were alive, speaking to them. It was a voice, but not one that Rowan recognized.
His blood ran cold. He had heard that name—his name—twice now. And it wasn't Ardyn who had called it.
The voice came again, this time more insistent. "Rowan, come closer…"
The whispering sound reverberated in his mind, pulling at something deep within him. It was as if the voice was coaxing him, leading him deeper into the ruins, inviting him to follow. It was impossible to resist. His mind screamed at him to stay still, to fight the pull, but his body refused to listen. Rowan took a step forward, then another, his legs moving almost of their own accord. He felt an invisible hand guiding him, urging him on.
"Stop!" Ardyn's voice broke through the trance, harsh and forceful. His hand shot out to grab Rowan's arm, jerking him back with surprising strength. "Don't listen to it."
Rowan snapped back to himself, his heart racing as the fog in his mind cleared. He blinked, disoriented, and found himself staring at the mercenary. "What the hell was that?"
Ardyn's expression was grim, his eyes sharp and filled with an unsettling understanding. "It's the Curse. That's how it begins."
Rowan took a step back, his pulse still thudding in his ears. "What do you mean? What's happening to me?"
Ardyn looked at him, a strange sadness in his gaze. "The Curse doesn't just hunt you physically. It hunts your mind, your soul. It twists your thoughts, lures you with voices, with promises. It feeds on your doubts, on your fears. And once it has you, it doesn't let go."
Rowan's chest tightened as the weight of Ardyn's words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but the feeling from before, the pull of the voice, was still fresh in his mind. It had been so real. So powerful. He could still hear it, in the back of his mind, urging him forward.
"I don't understand," Rowan muttered, shaking his head. "What kind of curse does that? What's behind it?"
Ardyn exhaled sharply, his eyes flashing with something fierce. "You're asking questions that don't have easy answers. The Curse isn't something we can fight head-on—not yet. It works slowly, getting into your head, pulling you in little by little. Eventually, you'll stop hearing your own thoughts. You'll stop questioning the voice, the pull. You'll think it's your own desires, your own will guiding you, but it's not."
Rowan swallowed hard, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Everything Ardyn was saying made sense, and yet, it didn't. He'd always believed in logic, in reasoning, in what could be explained. But now? He wasn't sure what was real anymore. He didn't know what to trust.
Ardyn stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Rowan's face. "The first time it happens, it's easy to fight. But the longer we stay here, the harder it'll get to resist. We've got to get out of this place before it's too late."
Rowan nodded, his head still spinning. His instincts told him to trust Ardyn, but the whisper was still there, lingering in his mind. He wanted to ignore it, to brush it off, but the more he tried to forget about it, the stronger it became. It was as if the very walls of the ruin were pushing him toward the voice, coaxing him into their depths.
"We'll leave," Rowan said, his voice strained. "But where do we go?"
Ardyn turned, his eyes scanning the ruin again, his expression unreadable. "We can't stay here any longer. We'll head for the old sanctuary—farther east. It's the only place we might find answers, and it's the only place where we might be safe."
Rowan didn't argue. He didn't have the strength for it anymore. The weight of the Curse was already starting to settle over him, and he could feel the pull of the darkness creeping closer, trying to claim him. But he wasn't sure how much longer he could fight it.
As Ardyn turned to lead the way out of the ruin, Rowan followed, his every step haunted by the whisper in his mind. The Curse was just beginning, and already, it had begun to change him.
And as they stepped out into the night, Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that something worse was on the horizon. Something far darker.