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The journey grew more treacherous as the days passed, each step further into the dense wilderness pulling Rylan deeper into the unknown. His thoughts, once filled with hope and anticipation, were now clouded by doubt. The woman's words echoed in his mind, the weight of her warning pressing against his chest like a vice: "The Sigil demands more than you can imagine."
He had passed through the forest with little sign of civilization, the trees stretching on endlessly in every direction. The path was often obscured by overgrown foliage, making travel slow and difficult. His body ached from the constant strain, his legs sore and his feet raw from the rough terrain. Yet still, the pull of the Sigil, that unshakable force, kept him moving forward.
Each night, as he lay under the stars, Rylan found little rest. His dreams were plagued with shadows and whispers—dark, twisted images that made him question the very essence of his existence. Faces of strangers, eyes that burned with hatred, and creatures that seemed to exist in the corners of his vision, always just out of reach. There were times when he woke with his heart racing, drenched in sweat, unsure whether the horrors he'd seen were real or imagined.
But the worst part was the feeling that something—or someone—was watching him. The wind seemed to carry voices, soft murmurs that disappeared as quickly as they came. Every rustling leaf, every snap of a twig, sent a chill down his spine.
On the fourth day of his journey, as Rylan made his way through a particularly dense thicket, the forest fell unnervingly quiet. The usual hum of the wind had ceased, and the birds were no longer singing. A strange tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
Rylan stopped, his senses on high alert. His hand instinctively went to the dagger at his side, though he knew it was little more than a tool of comfort at this point. He hadn't encountered anything truly dangerous yet, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that was about to change.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled. It was subtle at first, a slight vibration that grew stronger with each passing second. Rylan's heart raced, his mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening. And then, from the depths of the forest, came a sound.
A low, guttural growl.
Rylan's blood turned to ice. The growl wasn't like any animal he'd heard before. It was deep, resonant, filled with malice.
The sound grew louder, closer, until the very air seemed to tremble with it. Rylan took a cautious step back, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. The forest around him seemed to shift, the shadows growing darker as though the very light was being swallowed by an unseen force.
And then, with a burst of movement, it appeared.
A massive creature, easily twice the size of a bear, emerged from the underbrush. Its body was covered in scales that shimmered like black obsidian, reflecting the faint light in unnatural patterns. Its eyes, bright red and gleaming with hunger, locked onto Rylan's with predatory focus. It had no mouth, no nose, just a gaping maw in the center of its head, from which the growl had emanated.
A Void Beast.
Rylan's breath caught in his throat. He had heard rumors of such creatures—nightmarish entities that dwelled in the forgotten corners of the world, feeding on the energy of the land and the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross their path. Legends said they were born from the Rift, the place where the threads of reality thinned, and were drawn to the power of Sigils.
The beast took a step forward, its massive claws raking against the earth. Its gaze never wavered from Rylan. It was toying with him, savoring the moment before it struck.
Instinct kicked in. Rylan turned and ran.
His heart hammered in his chest as he pushed his legs to their limit, weaving through the trees with the agility of someone who had spent his whole life on the move. Behind him, the Void Beast's growls grew louder, its heavy steps pounding the earth. He dared not look back, knowing the moment he did, it would be too late.
But the forest was unforgiving. The path he had been following—a narrow trail cut through the undergrowth—suddenly gave way to a steep cliff. The ground crumbled beneath his feet, and before he could react, he was falling.
The world spun around him as he tumbled down the slope, the jagged rocks tearing at his skin. Pain shot through his side as he collided with a large stone, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay conscious. The beast's growls echoed from above, growing fainter as he descended.
When the world finally stopped spinning, Rylan lay on the ground, gasping for air. His clothes were torn, his body battered, but the Void Beast was nowhere to be seen. He had escaped—barely.
He staggered to his feet, his muscles trembling from the effort. His breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed his surroundings. He had fallen into a small clearing, surrounded by towering, ancient trees that seemed to stretch impossibly high into the sky. The air here felt… different. Charged. Alive with a strange, ancient energy.
It was then that he noticed it.
At the center of the clearing, lying atop a large stone pedestal, was a Sigil—an intricate, glowing symbol that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light. It seemed to call to him, the very air around it humming with an energy he could almost feel in his bones.
Rylan took a hesitant step forward. His heart was pounding, his body still aching from the fall, but something inside him—something primal—drove him toward it.
As he approached the pedestal, the Sigil's glow brightened, casting an otherworldly light over the clearing. It was as though the very fabric of reality bent around it. His hand trembled as he reached out, the air thick with power.
The moment his fingers touched the Sigil, a surge of energy shot through him—sharp, electric, and overwhelming. It was as though every cell in his body was igniting, burning with the intensity of a thousand suns. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out from the sheer force of it.
But then, just as suddenly as it began, the energy stopped. Rylan collapsed to his knees, breathless and disoriented.
The Sigil before him had changed. It was no longer just a symbol—it was alive, a part of him. The First Thread had been touched, and with it, a new power had awakened within him.
The path to the Cradle of Time had become clearer.
But with it, the true trials of the Sigil had only just begun.
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Rylan struggled to his feet, his mind racing. The Void Beast was not the last challenge he would face. He knew now that the trials had only just begun. But this was a sign—he had survived the first test. The path to ascension was long, and the price would be steep, but the Sigil had chosen him.
And he would not fail.