The world had changed.
Or perhaps it had always been this way, and only now was Alaric seeing it for what it truly was.
The sky, once a comforting expanse of blue, now seemed darker—a shade too deep, too endless, as if something vast and unseen lurked just beyond the horizon, watching. The trees whispered, but not with the wind; their murmurs were voices—low, unintelligible, carrying a warning in a language older than time.
And then there was the path.
The one he had never seen before.
It had appeared overnight, carved into the earth as though by unseen hands. It led away from the village, winding into the unknown, cutting through the forest like a scar across flesh. The villagers ignored it, refusing to acknowledge it. But Alaric? He felt it calling him.
No, not calling. Summoning.
A Path That Should Not Exist
Alaric stood at the entrance of the path, his breath caught in his chest. The dirt was different from the earth around it—darker, richer, as if soaked in something far older than rain. The air smelt strange, thick with a scent that made his stomach churn.
"Do not step forward."
The voice did not come from behind him.
It came from within him.
His own thoughts, twisted into something other. A warning. A plea.
And yet, his feet moved.
The moment he stepped onto the path, the wind died.
The world held its breath.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a frantic drumbeat against the oppressive silence. The trees on either side of him seemed taller now, their branches arching inward like skeletal fingers, forming a tunnel. No sky. No stars. Only the path.
And ahead, something waited.
Something that had been waiting for a very, very long time.
The Vision
He had not walked far before his vision blurred.
The trees rippled, and the ground beneath him wavered. It was as if the world itself was being stripped away, layer by layer, revealing something beneath the surface—something raw, something ancient.
Then, the whisper came again.
"You were never meant to see."
His knees buckled. The world around him shattered like glass.
He was no longer in the forest.
The sky was red.
Not the warm red of a sunset, but the deep, arterial crimson of fresh blood spilt in the dirt. The air was thick—too thick, suffocating, heavy with the metallic tang of something burning.
The trees were gone. In their place stood columns of jagged stone, blackened as though scorched by an unholy fire. The ground beneath him was cracked and dry, yet as he moved, he swore it pulsed—like something alive.
And then, in the distance, he saw it.
The Glass Tower.
It was taller than anything he had ever seen, piercing the sky, its surface a swirling mass of reflections. But the reflections were not of this world.
They showed faces—twisted, screaming, their mouths open in silent agony. Some of them looked like villagers. Some of them looked like strangers. And then—
He saw himself.
Not the version he had seen in his dreams. Something worse.
This version of Alaric stood inside the glass, but he was not trapped. He was waiting.
His eyes were black voids. His hands dripped with something dark. He did not smile this time.
He only watched.
And then, the glass cracked.
Alaric stumbled backward, his chest tightening, a feeling of dread so overwhelming it nearly crushed him. The cracks spread, slow at first, then faster, weaving across the tower like veins filled with poison.
Then, from the fractures, something spoke.
"The path is chosen. The path cannot be undone."
The Return
Alaric woke up on the path.
The air was thin. His hands trembled. He was back in the forest, but something had changed. The sun was lower in the sky. Hours had passed.
He looked around, his heart still hammering against his ribs. The path behind him was gone. Only thick, impenetrable trees remained, as though he had never walked forward at all.
But ahead?
The path stretched forward, untouched.
Waiting.
He turned around, desperate to retreat—to run back to the safety of his home, to pretend none of this had happened.
But the village was no longer there.
There was only the path.
And something else.
A shadow, standing in the distance. Watching.
It did not move. It did not breathe. It only waited.
And then, in the silence, the voice returned—no longer a whisper, but something louder, something heavier.
"You have seen. And now, you must continue."
Next: "The Mentor's First Lesson"
There is no way back. Alaric has glimpsed something forbidden, something beyond his understanding. But there is one man who might have answers—the mentor who has been waiting for him.
But knowledge comes with a price.
And some truths should never be known.
Do not skip the n
ext chapter.
Because what Alaric learns next will change everything.