The forest around the hollow was silent as Isabella and her companions made their way back into the trees, the faint remnants of the altar's glow still etched into their minds. The air remained heavy, filled with an unshakable tension. Though the whispers had faded, Isabella could still feel something lingering—a presence that refused to release its hold on her.
Doran grumbled as he brushed a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Remind me why we keep doing this again? You know, chasing cursed rocks and nearly getting torn apart by nightmares."
"Because if we don't, the world burns," Mara snapped, her sharp gaze scanning the darkened woods ahead.
The golden-eyed man walked ahead of them, silent but resolute, as though he could hear something they could not. Isabella stayed close behind him, her thoughts still whirling. She had seen something when she touched the altar—a glimpse of something far larger, far more dangerous than she could comprehend. The image of the ruined city still haunted her, like an imprint burned into her memory.
"I saw something," Isabella said suddenly, breaking the silence.
The others stopped and turned to look at her.
"What did you see?" Mara asked, her tone cautious.
Isabella hesitated. "A city. Or what was left of one. It was… ruined. Ashes and shadows. And there were people fighting something—something dark."
The golden-eyed man's gaze sharpened, though he said nothing. Doran let out a low whistle. "Sounds cheerful. So, what? You think this is all connected to that?"
"It has to be," Isabella said. "The voice I heard said there's more. That we have to find… something before it's too late."
Mara sighed and shook her head. "Cryptic as always. Why is it that nothing about these Heartstones can just tell us what we need to know?"
"Because they weren't made to be simple," the golden-eyed man said at last. His voice was quiet, but firm. "They were made to hide power—power that was never meant for mortal hands. Each one we find brings us closer to that power, but also closer to the forces that guard it."
"You mean the monsters," Doran said with a grimace. "The wolves, the shadows, those… things in the hollow. They're guardians, aren't they?"
"They are," the golden-eyed man confirmed. "But they're not the only ones watching."
A chill crept through Isabella's veins at his words. "What do you mean?"
Before he could answer, a distant rustling caught their attention. Mara raised her bow in an instant, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the treeline.
"Someone's there," she whispered.
The group froze, each of them readying their weapons. Isabella tightened her grip on her dagger, her pulse quickening. The rustling grew louder, closer, and then—a figure stepped out from the trees.
It was an old man.
He was hunched and frail-looking, draped in a tattered cloak that looked like it had been stitched together from centuries-old fabric. His long, white beard trailed down to his chest, and his eyes—pale and milky—seemed to see everything and nothing all at once.
"Well now," the man said, his voice raspy but amused. "A curious group of travelers, wandering into dark places where they don't belong."
Doran raised his axe cautiously. "Who are you, old man? And what are you doing out here?"
The man ignored him and turned his gaze to Isabella. Though his eyes were clouded, she felt as though he was looking straight through her.
"You touched the stone," he said softly. "And now it follows you."
Isabella stiffened. "What do you mean? What follows me?"
"The shadow," the man replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The curse. The truth of what lies beneath."
Mara frowned. "You're not making any sense. Who are you?"
The man tilted his head, a strange smile on his lips. "I am no one. Just an echo of what was. But you… you are at the center of it all."
"What do you mean?" Isabella demanded, frustration flaring in her chest.
The old man took a slow step forward, his frail form barely making a sound. "The stones were not meant to be found. Not by you. Not by anyone. They were buried for a reason, to keep the truth hidden. But now the world shifts, and the truth stirs. You must decide, girl—are you its savior, or its destroyer?"
Isabella's breath caught in her throat. "What truth? What are you talking about?"
The man smiled again, but this time it was sad. "You will see. Soon enough."
Before anyone could stop him, the old man turned and walked back into the trees, his form vanishing into the shadows as though he had never been there. For a long moment, the group stood in stunned silence.
"What in the name of the gods was that?" Doran muttered, finally breaking the quiet.
Mara shook her head, her expression uneasy. "I don't know. But he knew about the Heartstone… and Isabella."
Isabella swallowed hard, her mind racing. "He said the truth is hidden. And that it's following me. What if… what if he's right?"
The golden-eyed man stepped closer, his gaze steady and calm. "Then we find the truth. And we face it."
Isabella met his eyes and nodded, though fear still gnawed at the edges of her resolve. The vision she had seen at the altar felt more real than ever, and the old man's words echoed in her mind.
Are you its savior, or its destroyer?
She didn't know the answer.
"Come on," Mara said, glancing warily at the tree line. "We should keep moving. I don't like staying in one place after something like that."
No one argued. They fell into step once more, the forest swallowing their footsteps as they ventured deeper into its shadows. But as Isabella walked, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched—and that something dark was waiting for them, just beyond the edge of sight.