Chapter Twenty-Four – A Step into Darkness
The journey to the ruins took half a day. As they ventured further south, the once-vibrant forests became twisted, the trees withered and blackened as if some unseen force had drained the life from them.
Stark muttered, "Okay, so, just to clarify, this place is giving off all the bad vibes."
Fern adjusted her glasses. "It's as if reality itself is… unraveling here."
Gilgamesh did not speak. But as they reached the valley, he felt it.
An unnatural stillness.
The ruins loomed before them—ancient, half-buried in the earth. Massive stone pillars jutted from the ground at odd angles, as if time itself had tried to erase them but failed.
The moment they stepped forward, the air changed.
The temperature dropped. The wind ceased.
And then…
A voice whispered.
You should not have come.
Stark froze, his hand gripping his sword with white-knuckled force.
Fern's breath hitched. "Did you hear that?"
Gilgamesh remained calm. "I did."
The shadows among the ruins seemed to move, writhing like living things. The whispering grew louder, shifting between words and something older than language.
You are already dead.
Stark took a step back. "Okay, I've had enough of—"
Before he could finish, the shadows lunged.
A wave of darkness rushed toward them, swallowing the light, twisting space.
But then—
A single golden ripple expanded outward.
Gilgamesh raised his hand, and in an instant, the darkness stopped—suspended in mid-air like ink trapped in glass.
His voice was quiet. Calm. Unshaken.
"You are nothing before me."
With a simple gesture, the golden glow shattered the darkness, sending it recoiling into the ruins.
The whispering turned to screams.
Gilgamesh took a single step forward.
And the shadows trembled.