Whispers Of Old

The wagon came to a groaning halt, its old wooden frame creaking under the strain of the journey. The teamster, a grizzled old man with a face carved by years on the road, tipped his hat and muttered, "This is as far as I go. The hill's too steep for these wheels."

Myhra, Carli, and Oda exchanged tired glances, the long night of travel hanging on them like a heavy cloak. 

Myhra was the first to step down, her boots sinking into the damp earth. The moment her feet touched the ground, a wave of nausea hit her—a sudden, suffocating weakness that clawed at her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hand instinctively shot up to her chest as though to push away the unseen force that gripped her. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, drowning out the faint rustling of the trees that lined the path.

Carli, tall and imposing with a cascade of fiery red hair, had already dismounted from the other side. Her sharp eyes caught the momentary falter in Myhra's step. "You good?" she asked, her voice low and edged with concern. There was always a bite to her tone, like she was perpetually bracing for a fight.

Myhra nodded, swallowing hard. "Just... the journey," she muttered, brushing a loose strand of dark hair from her face. Her fingers trembled slightly as she forced a smile. But inside, the gnawing sensation of unease remained, an invisible presence that seemed to cling to her. "Nothing more than exhaustion."

Carli raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "That 72-hour shift takes it out of you. You'll get used to it after a month." She tilted her head, eyeing Myhra closely. "Tell me you're not hallucinating already. After my first shift, I slept for a week straight. Thought I was seeing shadows where there were none."

"Not hallucinating," Myhra managed to say, though she wasn't entirely sure if she believed it herself. The feeling of being watched hadn't left her since they'd stepped off the wagon. "Just tired."

Oda, the youngest of the group with a wiry build and boyish features, hopped out last, his energy almost jarring in contrast to the heavy tension in the air. "Want me to scout ahead?" he asked, his tone bright and eager, as if he couldn't sense the growing unease that weighed on the others. Always the optimist, Oda's naivety was both a comfort and a concern.

Myhra shook her head, her voice tighter than she intended. "Not yet. Help Carli with her things first, then head to home." She glanced at Carli, anticipating the inevitable eye roll. Carli, fiercely independent and sharp-tongued, hated being 'escorted,' but said nothing this time. 

Oda grinned and snapped a mock salute. "Aye, Commander," he said cheerfully as he grabbed Carli's bag. His enthusiasm clashed with the senior woman's cold demeanor, but that was Oda—always a light in the darkest of times. 

As they walked ahead, the pair's figures slowly disappeared down the misty road. Myhra stood still, watching them vanish around the bend and the wagon also made his way back. For a moment, her gaze drifting toward the dark forest in the distance. 

For a moment, she felt paralyzed by the oppressive aura that radiate from the darkness, her breath shallow as the sensation of being watched intensified. As in shadow, had a presence that seemed to cut through the night, a malevolent force that made her skin crawl.

 "It's just exhaustion," she whispered to herself, willing the anxiety to dissipate. But the feeling that something unseen lurked just beyond her sight lingered, settling into her bones as she began her walk home, alone.

As Myhra crested the hill, her eyes instinctively sought the familiar shape of her childhood home, a humble stone house nestled at the end of the road. But it wasn't the simple structure that captured her gaze. Instead, her attention locked onto something far more imposing: Redstone Castle.

The castle loomed like a phantom in the distance, its silhouette stark against the faint light of the moon. Its crimson stone glowed unnaturally, as if absorbing the very essence of the night, radiating an eerie brilliance that felt alive. Myhra froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had seen the castle a thousand times before, but tonight... tonight it look different. It dominated the landscape like a dark omen, and for a moment, it was as if she were seeing it for the very first time.

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the brooding fortress, shifting her gaze to the cluster of houses at the foot of the hill. Four identically built homes, each modest and weather-worn. Only one had the warm glow of lamps flickering in the windows and thin trails of smoke rising from the kitchen vault—her home. The other three were drowned in darkness, their presence barely perceptible against the night, as though they had been part of the shadows.

But even in their obscurity, they paled in comparison to Redstone Castle, which stood like a living entity. No lamps burned in its windows, no signs of life stirred within its walls, and yet... it felt more alive than anything around her.

As Myhra found herself at the edge of the main square, the air felt thick with history, each path that led away from her speaking of untold stories. She paused, her eyes drawn upward to the winding road that twisted toward the looming mountain. It was an ancient trail, carved into the hillside, and it led to the place that always stirred something deep inside her—an echo of power, of something older than the village itself.

Her gaze followed the path until it reached the summit, where the temple stood proudly. Its highest spire pierced the sky, and the triangle flag at its peak danced wildly in the wind, as if defying the forces of nature. Lamps illuminated the temple's base, twinkling like distant stars. It was a sight that never failed to soothe her, a beacon of calm amidst the unsettling world below.

The temple had always been more than just a place of worship for Myhra. It was a sanctuary, a reservoir of strength that seemed to draw energy from the mountain itself. The village whispered of ancient powers buried deep within the stone, powers that the temple guarded, waiting for the right moment—or the right person—to unleash them. Myhra had always felt connected to it, as if the mountain whispered its ancient wisdom into her bones.

She bowed her head, her breath slowing as she let the temple's presence fill her, washing away the tension that had plagued her since the journey. For a moment, peace settled over her, a fleeting reprieve from the shadows that always seemed to follow her.

But when Myhra turned her gaze back toward the square, the weight returned. The houses clustered at the edge of the square were shrouded in silence, their darkened windows and thick trees giving them an eerie stillness. The ancient trees that surrounded the houses were older than the village itself, their gnarled branches reaching over the path like sentinels. Myhra's family temple lay hidden deep in the grove, nestled in an alcove formed by a cluster of holy trees. It was a place of sacred power, its energies mingling with the ancient magic that her family had long protected.

As Myhra walked further, her eyes drifted to the northern path. There, looming in the distance, was Redstone Castle. Its towering red walls were barely visible in the fading light, but its presence was undeniable. It stood like a dark sentinel at the end of the road, a constant reminder of the land's darker history. Myhra shivered involuntarily. The castle had always unnerved her, its ominous presence casting a long shadow over the village.

She took a deep breath, pushing the unease aside. Her heart had steadied, and the connection she felt to the mountain temple grounded her once more. She pressed forward, the feeling of being watched still lingering, though more distant now.

When she finally approached her family's home, its simple, familiar structure didn't calm her like it usually did. Her eyes couldn't help but stray back to the brooding form of Redstone Castle in the distance. The property had been entrusted to her grandmother, a duty Myhra had never questioned. But now, standing before the imposing structure, a sense of dread gnawed at her, as if the castle was waiting for something—or someone.

Raising her lantern, Myhra narrowed her eyes. "Why does it feel like something's in there?" she muttered under her breath. Just as the words left her lips, a shadow darted across one of the castle's corridors. Her heart leaped in her chest. It was quick—too quick to be normal.

Before she could stop herself, her feet carried her toward the adjacent gate, which hung slightly ajar. The gate didn't appear open from a distance, but now, standing before it, Myhra could see the gap, as if someone—or something—had passed through recently. The castle loomed above her, its tall walls glowing faintly under the moonlight.

Rising against the rugged mountain backdrop, Redstone Castle stood like a relic of a time long past, its ten towers clawing at the sky. It was a fortress of power and mystery, and yet, no one had entered for years. The castle's ancient seal was said to be unbreakable. But Myhra had seen something move inside, she was certain of it.