250 cycles post-Initialization.
The path to the Black Market proved far more arduous and grueling than Ashen had anticipated. The Iron Jungle tested not only the body but also the spirit. Every rustle, every grating screech of rusted metal sent shivers down her spine and made her grip her weapon tighter.
Scar's group moved with a practiced synchronicity, like a single organism. They spoke sparingly, communicating through short, clipped phrases and gestures understood only amongst themselves. Ashen remained on the periphery, observing and analyzing.
On the third day of their journey, as the sun began its descent, they stumbled upon a peculiar site. Amidst the barren wasteland, strewn with debris and rusted husks of vehicles, lay a perfectly circular area scorched into the earth. At the circle's center rested a strange stone—smooth, black, with pulsating veins of violet.
"What in damnation is this?" muttered Fang, breaking the silence.
Scar approached the edge of the circle but hesitated to step inside. He tossed a small stone into the center. Upon contact with the ground, it disintegrated into dust.
"I don't like this," Scar declared. "We'd best go around."
But it was too late. The violet veins on the stone pulsed with a brighter light, and waves of distortion began to emanate from it, spreading outwards. The surrounding space shimmered, rippled like the surface of water.
Ashen felt a strange dizziness. What is happening? She looked at the others. They, too, appeared bewildered and frightened.
"Get back!" Scar shouted, but his voice was distorted, warped into an unintelligible noise.
The waves of distortion intensified. The silhouettes of the people around her began to blur, losing their form. Ashen watched in horror as Mute's arm elongated, transforming into a shapeless appendage, while Gray's head swelled to grotesque proportions.
This is unreal. This cannot be happening. But it was, unfolding before her very eyes.
Suddenly, a pillar of violet light erupted from the stone. It shot upwards, piercing the clouds. And in that instant, they appeared.
From the column of light emerged three figures. Tall, clad in long, dark robes that concealed their faces. They hovered above the ground, their feet not touching the earth.
Not human. Ashen understood this instinctively. An unfathomable power emanated from them, alien and terrifying.
One of the strangers raised a hand, and the distortion of space intensified. A scream of terror tore from Ashen's throat as she witnessed Nimble's body contorting, twisting inside out.
"Stop it!" she cried out, not knowing why.
The strangers turned their unseen gazes upon Ashen. She felt a cold wave wash over her, penetrating to her very soul.
They are looking at me. They see me.
One of the strangers spoke. His voice resonated from everywhere and nowhere at once, seeping directly into her mind.
"Ashenborn," he uttered. "You seek answers?"
Ashen couldn't speak. Fear had seized her tongue.
"We can give you knowledge," the stranger continued. "Knowledge of the world, of your past, of your destiny."
They know my name. They know who I am.
"But everything has a price," a second stranger's voice echoed. "Are you prepared to pay the price?"
Ashen was at a loss for words. She yearned to know the truth, but she feared what might be revealed.
"Time is fleeting," the third stranger said. "Choose."
At that moment, Scar, overcoming the distortion, fired his pistol at one of the strangers. The bullet passed straight through the figure, causing no harm.
The strangers laughed. A cold, lifeless laugh that made one's blood run cold.
"Foolish mortals," one of them declared. "You cannot defy us."
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and Scar was flung backwards like a rag doll. He collided with a rusted vehicle carcass and fell silent.
The remaining members of the group were paralyzed by fear. The distortion continued to ravage their bodies.
"Your choice, Ashenborn," the stranger's voice resonated once more. "Knowledge or death?"
Ashen looked at the pain-contorted faces of her companions, at Scar's lifeless body.
I cannot abandon them.
"I... I won't go with you," she whispered.
A smile seemed to flicker across the unseen face of one of the strangers.
"As you wish," he conceded. "But remember, we shall meet again."
The pillar of light began to dim. The figures of the strangers dissolved into the air. The distortion ceased.
Ashen collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. It was over.
She raised her head and surveyed her surroundings. The members of her group lay on the ground, mangled but alive. Scar was dead.
What was that? Who were those beings? And why did they call her Ashenborn?
Questions outnumbered answers. But one thing Ashen knew for certain: the world was far more complex and dangerous than she had ever imagined.
And somewhere out there, beyond the veil of comprehension, lurked a power capable of altering reality itself.
A power some might call magic.
But Ashen did not yet know that word.
She rose to her feet. They had to leave this accursed place. And she needed to tend to the survivors.
The journey to the Black Market continued.
*But now it led not only through the Iron Jungle but also through uncharted territories where reality and illusion intertwined.