The cold night stretched endlessly as Rowan and Ardyn moved through the desolate forest. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms. A low mist clung to the ground, weaving through the roots and twisting around their feet, as if trying to pull them back. Rowan's mind raced, replaying the events in the ruin. The voice, the pull, the way it had felt so real—it was all too much.
Ardyn walked a few steps ahead, his shoulders tense, every movement purposeful. He seemed unbothered by the silence that pressed down on them, but Rowan knew better. He had seen the flicker of unease in Ardyn's sharp gaze back in the ruins. Whatever this Curse was, it unsettled even him.
Rowan quickened his pace to walk beside him. "Ardyn, this… this sanctuary you mentioned," he began hesitantly, his voice barely louder than the crunch of leaves underfoot. "Will it really keep us safe? Can it stop the Curse?"
Ardyn didn't answer right away. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the forest as if expecting something—or someone—to emerge from the darkness. After a moment, he sighed.
"It's not safety, Rowan," he said finally. "Not exactly. But the sanctuary is old, older than the Curse itself. If there's any place left in this world where its grip might weaken, it's there."
Rowan frowned, his breath fogging in the chill air. "You sound like you're not sure."
Ardyn gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm not. The Curse isn't something you defeat with swords or walls. It's like poison, seeping into every crack until it owns you. But the sanctuary… it might give us time to figure out what to do next. That's all we can hope for."
Time. Rowan let the word settle in his mind. It felt ironic, given how the Curse seemed to warp time itself, twisting reality and reshaping it to its will. Could they really find even a brief reprieve?
They walked in silence for a while longer, the forest around them alive with the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. The sound should have been comforting, but instead, it only made Rowan's unease grow. It was too easy to imagine the shadows between the trees hiding eyes, watching, waiting.
"Do you hear it?" Rowan asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.
Ardyn stopped, turning to him with a sharp look. "Hear what?"
Rowan hesitated. The voice wasn't as strong as it had been in the ruin, but it was still there, faint and persistent, like a whisper at the edge of his thoughts. He shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Nothing," he muttered. "I mean… it's probably nothing."
Ardyn's eyes narrowed. "The voice?"
Rowan's breath hitched. "You can hear it too?"
"No." Ardyn's tone was blunt. "But I know it doesn't go away. The Curse doesn't leave you alone, Rowan. It doesn't need to. The more you try to ignore it, the louder it'll get. You've got to focus. Don't let it in."
"How?" Rowan asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "How am I supposed to fight something I can't even see?"
"You fight it by staying yourself," Ardyn said, his voice firm. "Remember who you are. Remember what's real. The Curse feeds on doubt, on fear. If you lose yourself, it wins. Don't give it that chance."
Rowan clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to believe Ardyn, to trust that he could hold on to who he was. But the voice… it felt so personal, so intimate. It knew things about him, things he hadn't spoken aloud. How could he fight something that seemed to know him better than he knew himself?
They continued walking, the forest thinning as the ground sloped upward. The moonlight spilled through the gaps in the trees, casting long, eerie shadows across their path. Rowan tried to focus on his breathing, on the rhythm of his steps, anything to drown out the whispers.
But then, he felt it—a presence.
He stopped in his tracks, his head snapping around to look behind him. The shadows between the trees seemed to shift, writhing like living things. His heart pounded in his chest, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow.
"Ardyn," he whispered, his voice trembling.
The mercenary turned, his hand already on his sword. His eyes followed Rowan's gaze, scanning the darkness. "What is it?"
"I don't know," Rowan admitted, his voice barely audible. "But… something's there. I can feel it."
Ardyn's expression hardened. He stepped in front of Rowan, his stance protective, his blade glinting in the pale light. The air seemed to grow colder, the silence around them heavier.
Then, it came.
A figure emerged from the shadows, its form barely human. It was tall and gaunt, its limbs unnaturally long, its skin pale and stretched tight over its bones. Its eyes glowed faintly, like embers in the dark, and its mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.
Rowan felt his knees go weak. The presence radiating from the creature was suffocating, like a wave of malice and hunger crashing over him.
"Stay back," Ardyn ordered, his voice steady but low.
The creature didn't move. It just stood there, watching them, its head tilted slightly as if studying them.
"Is it… is it the Curse?" Rowan asked, his voice shaking.
"No," Ardyn said. "It's a servant. A shadow of the Curse, sent to weaken us."
Rowan swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Can we fight it?"
Ardyn didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, his sword raised. The creature's eyes followed his movement, unblinking.
"If it attacks, we can kill it," Ardyn said finally. "But it won't be easy. Stay behind me."
The tension in the air was unbearable as they waited, each second dragging on like an eternity. Rowan's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of fear and questions. What did the creature want? Was it here to kill them? Or was it just toying with them, wearing them down for the Curse to claim?
Then, without warning, the creature moved. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, its limbs bending unnaturally as it closed the distance. Ardyn met it head-on, his sword flashing in the moonlight.
The clash was brutal. Ardyn's blade struck the creature's arm, but it barely flinched, its clawed hand swiping at him with deadly precision. Ardyn dodged, his movements quick and calculated, but the creature was relentless.
Rowan watched in frozen horror, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to help, to do something, but fear held him in place.
"Rowan!" Ardyn's voice broke through his paralysis. "Focus! Don't let it win!"
The creature turned its glowing eyes toward Rowan, and in that moment, he felt the whispers surge in his mind. They grew louder, more insistent, filling his head with doubt and fear.
You're too weak, the voice hissed. You can't help him. You'll only make it worse.
Rowan clenched his fists, shaking his head violently. "No," he muttered. "That's not true."
Ardyn's sword flashed again, driving the creature back. "Rowan, now's not the time to hesitate!"
Something inside Rowan snapped. He forced himself to move, to step forward, ignoring the whispers clawing at his mind. He didn't know what he could do, but he refused to let the Curse win.
The fight wasn't over—not for Ardyn, and not for him.