Alaric had escaped the Hidden City, but something about the air around him felt... wrong.
The sky was clear, the ground solid beneath his feet, but an eerie silence pressed down on him like a suffocating weight. His hands trembled as he looked at the Key to Truth, its surface pulsing with a dim, otherworldly glow.
He had survived trials meant to erase him from existence. He had endured horrors that defied reason. And yet, as he stood in the vast wilderness, he felt an unsettling presence creeping into his bones.
Something was not right.
And then—
A voice behind him
"You should not have taken it."
The blood in Alaric's veins turned to ice.
Slowly, he turned—
And came face to face with the one person he had trusted the most.
The Knife in the Dark
Standing in the shadows of the twisted trees was Orin—the man who had once guided him, the mentor who had taught him the first truths of the path he walked.
But now, there was something different about him.
His once-familiar presence felt warped, tainted by an unseen force. His eyes—once warm with wisdom—were now cold and hollow, as if something had robbed him of who he was.
"You weren't meant to leave that place alive,' Orin said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but his hand was already on the hilt of his blade.
Alaric's mind reeled.
"You knew?"
A smirk tugged at Orin's lips.
"Of course I knew. I sent you there."
Alaric felt his stomach drop.
The weight of the revelation crashed over him like a collapsing mountain. Every moment, every challenge, every near-death experience—all of it had been orchestrated.
The fires. The whispers. The trials.
Orin had known.
And he had let it happen.
"You lied to me," Alaric whispered, his grip
tightening on the key
"No," Orin corrected, stepping closer. "I led you to where you needed to be. But now... now you have something that does not belong to you.
His fingers twitched over his weapon.
"Give me the key, Alaric. And I will let you live."
The Weight of Deception
Alaric's pulse thundered in his ears.
He had trusted Orin with his life.
He had followed him blindly, believing in his guidance, never questioning his motives.
Now, that trust lay shattered at his feet.
"You used me," Alaric murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Orin tilted his head.
"Is that so hard to believe?" His tone was almost amused. "You were a tool, Alaric. A necessary piece in a much larger game."
The world around them darkened as the wind howled through the trees.
Alaric felt something rising within him—rage, yes, but also something deeper. A terrible realisation that shook him to his core.
"You never wanted me to survive," he said, the words laced with growing fury.
Orin's smirk deepened.
"I never expected you to."
A Fight in the Shadows
The attack came without warning.
Orin lunged, his blade light. Alaric barely had time in the dim to react before steel sliced through. or, narrowly missing
his throat.
Instinct took over.
He dodged, rolling backward as Orin's blade slammed into the ground where he had stood a heartbeat before. Dirt exploded into the air, but there was no time to recover.
Orin was fast.
Too fast.
Another strike—this one aimed for Alaric's ribs. He barely managed to block it, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arm.
"You were never meant to be the hero," Orin snarled, his voice dripping with venom.
Alaric gritted his teeth. He would not die here. Not like this.
With a desperate burst of strength, he countered, swinging his own weapon in a wide arc. Orin leapt back, but not fast enough—a shallow cut block across his forearm.
For the first time, the sirk vanished.
Orin's eyes darkened.
"So, you do have some fight in you," he muttered.
The air around them grew heavier. The trees twisted, their branches reaching like skeletal hands. The wind carried whispers—voices that did not belong in this world.
And then—
The ground cracked open beneath them.
The Truth Revealed
Alaric stumbled as the earth beneath his feet gave way, revealing a deep abyss that pulsed with a malevolent glow.
Something ancient stirred below.
Something is waiting.
Orin didn't flinch.
"Do you hear it?" he asked, his voice almost reverent. "The voices of those who came before us? They are calling for you, Alaric. They want you to return what you stole."
The Key to Truth burnt in Alaric's grip.
His mind swam with memories that were not his own—visions of a forgotten past, a history that had been buried beneath lies and blood.
"I won't give it to you," he said, voice steady despite the terror gnawing at his chest.
Orin's expression darkened.
"Then you will die."
He charged again, this time faster, deadlier.
But Alaric was ready.
As the blade descended, Alaric did not step back; he stepped forward.
Right into the attack
Pain exploded across his side, but he ignored it. Instead, he used Orin's own momentum against him—grabbing his wrist, twisting, and forcing the blade from his grasp.
With one final, desperate move, he drove his own dagger deep into Orin's side.
A sharp gasp.
Orin staggered.
His eyes flickered with something unreadable—shock, pain... perhaps even regret.
"You..." he whispered, his knees buckling.
Alaric caught his breath, stepping back, watching as his former mentor collapsed to the ground.
The wind screamed around them.
And from the abyss, something rose.
The Betrayal Was Only the Beginning
Orin's body dissolved into the shadows, swallowed by the unseen force lurking below.
Alaric felt no relief.
He had won.
And yet—
A terrible truth settled in his chest.
Orin had not fought out of desperation. He had fought with certainty.
As if he had already won.
The whispers around him grew louder, curling around his mind like creeping vines.
The key pulsed.
And then—
A single voice cut through the noise.
"You think this was betrayal?"
The shado
ws laughed.
"The real betrayal... is yet to come."
The abyss beneath Alaric yawned open.
And he fell.