The sun dipped behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the treacherous path. The road to Rudrakaal's fortress was not merely difficult—it was a silent warning. Twisting trails wound through dense forests, jagged ridges, and narrow, crumbling paths that hugged the mountainside. With each step forward, the air grew colder, laced with an unnatural stillness. Even the wind refused to whisper.
Anant's grip tightened around his staff. His senses were on high alert, every fiber of his being telling him something was wrong.
"This silence…" he murmured. "It doesn't feel natural."
Beside him, Surya nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "It's the presence of dark magic. The land itself fears what lies ahead."
They had been traveling for hours, pushing forward with determination. Every so often, they found signs of the captured villagers—scraps of cloth caught in branches, broken trinkets scattered in the dirt, and once, a small wooden toy, half-buried in the mud.
Anant knelt, picking up the toy. It was a simple carving of a lion, its edges worn smooth by tiny hands. A child's laughter once rang through these woods. Now, there was only silence.
A cold rage settled in his chest. These weren't warriors being taken; they were innocent people. Families. Children.
He clenched his fist around the toy before slipping it into his pocket.
"We need to move faster," he said.
Surya didn't argue.
---
A City of Ghosts
By nightfall, they reached the outskirts of a village that lay at the base of the Black Citadel. The village was eerily intact, as if its people had simply vanished in an instant. Homes stood untouched, doors creaking softly in the wind. A well sat in the center of the village square, its water dark and still.
Anant crouched, brushing his fingers against the ground. No footprints. No signs of life.
Surya adjusted his sword belt. "If Rudrakaal's men came through here, there should be tracks. Signs of a struggle."
"There's nothing," Anant said. "Not even a single broken door."
A thick fog swirled around them, making it difficult to see more than a few steps ahead. Then, a whisper drifted through the air.
A voice.
Anant froze. "Did you hear that?"
Surya didn't respond. He was staring up at the rooftops.
Shadows flickered along the buildings. Moving. Watching.
"We're not alone," Surya whispered.
Before Anant could react, the silence shattered. A guttural screech ripped through the night, and the shadows leaped from the rooftops.
---
The First Battle of the Black Citadel
The creatures descended upon them—twisted, elongated figures with jagged claws and glowing red eyes. They were humanoid in shape but unnatural, their limbs too long, their movements too fluid, as if they weren't bound by bones.
One lunged at Anant.
He barely had time to raise his staff before it was upon him. He swung hard, cracking the creature across its ribs. The impact should have broken it. But instead of falling, the creature twisted unnaturally, reforming as if pain was meaningless.
Surya slashed through another with his sword, slicing it in half. But instead of dying, the halves wriggled and grew into two smaller creatures, both grinning with jagged teeth.
"These things don't die easily," Surya growled.
Anant gritted his teeth. Ordinary attacks wouldn't work.
His fingers brushed against his pendant. He could feel the energy pulsing inside.
He shut his eyes. Focus.
A golden light burst from his pendant, flaring outward. The nearest creatures shrieked in agony, their bodies sizzling as the light touched them. They stumbled backward, their twisted forms dissolving into wisps of darkness.
"It's light!" Anant shouted. "They can't withstand it!"
Surya lifted his sword, allowing Anant's energy to flow into the blade. He swung in a wide arc, severing three creatures at once, their bodies evaporating into nothing.
The remaining monsters hesitated. Their red eyes flickered between their fallen brethren and the two warriors now glowing with divine energy.
Anant took a step forward.
"Run."
The creatures hissed in frustration before vanishing into the shadows.
The silence returned, but it was heavier now.
Surya wiped blood from his lip. "They weren't trying to kill us."
Anant nodded grimly. "They were scouts."
Surya sheathed his sword. "That means Rudrakaal knows we're here."
Anant exhaled slowly, his grip on his staff firm.
"Good," he said. "Let him know. We're coming for him."
---
The Gates of the Black Citadel
With no more obstacles in their way, they finally reached the fortress.
The Black Citadel was more than a structure—it was a monstrosity of obsidian and fire, rising like the fanged maw of a beast ready to devour the world. The walls were jagged, pulsating with veins of eerie red energy that moved like molten lava beneath the stone.
Surya studied the architecture. "This place wasn't just built with dark magic." He touched the wall. "It's alive."
Anant shuddered. He could feel it too. The fortress wasn't just a prison—it was a sentient entity, feeding off the suffering within its walls.
Yet, something was off.
The gates stood before them, massive and foreboding, but… there were no guards. No watchmen. No signs of movement.
Surya's hand went to his sword. "It's too quiet."
Anant hesitated, then stepped forward, raising his hand.
The moment his palm touched the obsidian doors, a deep voice rumbled from within.
"Welcome, Chosen One."
The gates swung open.
Inside, only darkness awaited.
Surya clenched his jaw. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Anant took a breath, stepping past the threshold.
"Then we're on the right path."
The doors slammed shut behind them.
The Black Citadel had swallowed them whole.
And the true test was about to begin.
---