Chapter Twenty-Six – The Forgotten Guardian
The ancient elf's remains lurched upright, its empty eye sockets glowing with an eerie, pale light. The air froze.
Stark stumbled backward, drawing his sword on instinct. "Nope. Absolutely not. This is how ghost stories start."
Fern's fingers twitched toward her spellbook, but she hesitated. "Wait… it's not attacking."
The undead figure swayed slightly, as if struggling to move after centuries of stillness. When it finally spoke, its voice was like wind through dead leaves, dry and brittle.
"You should not have come."
Gilgamesh remained utterly still.
The skeletal figure turned its empty gaze toward him. The pale light within its sockets flickered—as if it recognized him.
"You… You are not supposed to be here… Not yet."
Fern's breath caught. "What does that mean?"
The guardian ignored her, its focus solely on Gilgamesh.
"He still watches. The chains are weak. You… must not break them."
Gilgamesh's golden eyes darkened. "Who is 'he'?"
The bones trembled.
"The first. The one buried beneath the world. The king in the abyss."
A deep, guttural rumble shook the chamber.
The runes on the gate flared violently, their sickly glow turning into a searing pulse of light.
Stark gritted his teeth. "I really, really hate where this is going."
The guardian's bony fingers clutched its dagger tighter.
"If you go further… You will awaken him."
Gilgamesh exhaled softly. Not in fear. Not in hesitation.
But in understanding.
"Then my path is clear."
He raised his hand.
A golden light erupted from his palm, illuminating the chamber with the brilliance of a thousand suns.
The guardian shuddered—and for the first time in ten thousand years, it let out a sound that could almost be mistaken for a sigh.
"So be it."
The dagger fell from its grasp.
And with that, the ancient elf crumbled to dust.
The gate shuddered violently, its runes flickering.
The chamber itself seemed to breathe, as though something behind that door had begun to stir.
Fern's voice was tight. "Gilgamesh… whatever's behind that door, maybe we shouldn't—"
Gilgamesh did not turn. His eyes remained locked on the trembling gate.
"The past does not sleep forever."
He stepped forward.
And with a single touch, the gate began to open.