Specters of the Past

The dark, foreboding fortress looms larger on the horizon as Ashura and the girl press on through the cursed wastelands. The air grows heavier, as if the very atmosphere is laced with the remnants of centuries-old battles, the soil soaked in blood from countless wars. With every step, the girl seems more exhausted, her connection to the curse growing ever stronger. Ashura feels it too—a pulsing within his veins, as if the very land is trying to reclaim him.

The wind picks up as they near a crumbled village at the base of the fortress, its ruins stretching out like the broken bones of a once-thriving civilization. Ashura can sense eyes on them, but he sees no living soul. His grip tightens around his blade, his mind alert. The girl, still recovering from the spectral attack, clutches his cloak, staying close to him as they venture deeper into the ghostly remnants of the village.

The silence is unnatural, broken only by the distant howl of the wind. As they explore further, Ashura notices strange markings on the crumbling walls, symbols similar to the ones from the stone circle in the forest. The girl gazes at them, entranced, her fingers tracing the ancient carvings as if she recognizes them.

Before Ashura can stop her, the markings flare with a sickening red light, casting long, unnatural shadows across the village square. From the light, ghostly figures emerge—phantoms of the past, the spirits of fallen warriors who had once served the Blood King. These are no ordinary specters. They are the remnants of a once-proud battalion, cursed to defend the fortress in death as they had in life.

The spirits descend upon Ashura and the girl, their hollow eyes burning with hatred. Ashura quickly draws his sword, but the phantoms are relentless, their ethereal forms shifting and attacking from all angles. Each swing of his blade cuts through the misty figures, but they reassemble, drawn back together by the curse that binds them.

Ashura's breath quickens as he realizes the fight is not only physical—these phantoms are testing his resolve, their whispers echoing in his mind. They speak of his bloodline's betrayal, of his father's pact with the Blood King, and of Shura, his twin brother, who had once walked a path not unlike his own but fell deeper into the curse's grip.

The whispers claw at his mind, making him doubt everything he's fought for. He falters for a moment, caught in the illusion of his memories, but the sound of the girl crying out pulls him back. The phantoms close in around her, their twisted forms drawn to the power she unknowingly possesses.

In a moment of desperation, Ashura charges through the ghostly figures, grabbing the girl and shielding her with his body. As the phantoms close in, the girl's eyes flicker with the same red light as before. The earth beneath them trembles as an unseen force explodes from her, scattering the phantoms into nothingness.

The village falls silent once again.

Ashura staggers to his feet, clutching the girl who has once again collapsed into unconsciousness. He is left stunned by the immense power she wields, a power neither of them fully understands. He gazes up at the fortress, now looming ominously above them. Whatever awaits inside, he knows, is tied to her, to the curse, and to his bloodline. His father's sins, his brother's fall, and his own forgotten past—they are all converging here.

As the girl begins to stir, Ashura realizes that their time is running short. The fortress is close, but so is the dark truth about their intertwined fates. With a determined breath, he hoists her onto his back and marches toward the gates of the fortress, knowing that what lies ahead will determine both their fates.