Chapter 6: The Song of the Sky Serpent

Aiden ran until the city of glass was nothing but a distant shimmer on the horizon. His legs burned with exhaustion, his lungs ached from the cold air, but he couldn't stop now. He clutched the book tightly to his chest, the strange symbols inside still fresh in his mind. Whatever danger he had awoken back in the tower, he had escaped—for now.

Ahead of him, the landscape shifted again, the glassy plains giving way to rocky cliffs that jutted up toward the sky. Strange, jagged formations, like the bones of some long-forgotten creature, rose from the earth, casting long shadows in the dying light of the strange sky.

And above it all, a sound—a haunting, melodic song—drifted on the wind.

Aiden slowed, listening. The song was beautiful, but there was something unsettling about it, a sadness woven into every note. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the air like a living thing.

He followed the sound, his feet carrying him up the steep cliffs until he reached a plateau that overlooked the entire valley. And there, coiled around a towering rock spire, was the source of the song.

A serpent—long and shimmering, its scales glinting in the light—lay draped across the stone. Its body was as wide as a river, and its head, crowned with delicate, feather-like appendages, was raised to the sky. The creature's eyes were closed, lost in the song it sang to the heavens.

Aiden stared, transfixed by the sight. He had never seen anything like it. The serpent's voice filled him with a strange sense of calm, despite the eerie beauty of its presence.

But as he stepped closer, the serpent's eyes snapped open, locking onto him with a gaze that seemed to pierce his very soul.

You seek what you do not understand, mortal.

The voice wasn't spoken aloud—it echoed inside Aiden's mind, deep and resonant, like the tolling of a great bell.

Aiden swallowed hard, his body frozen in place. "I... I need help," he managed to say. "I need to find my way home."

The serpent's head tilted slightly, its golden eyes narrowing. And what will you offer in return?

Aiden hesitated. He had nothing to give, no power or riches to trade. "I... I don't know. I just need—"

Everyone has something to offer, the serpent interrupted, its voice growing softer, more dangerous. A memory, a dream, a piece of your soul. Choose wisely, for the cost will be great.

Aiden's mind raced. He couldn't afford to make a mistake now. This creature, this ancient being, held power beyond anything he could comprehend. But the idea of giving up a piece of himself—his memories, his dreams—terrified him.

"I... I don't know if I can," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The serpent's song faded into silence, its gaze unblinking. You must. If you wish to return, you will pay the price.

Aiden's hands trembled. He thought of home, of the life he had left behind. His family, his friends. The life he desperately wanted to return to. But what if the price was too high? What if he lost something essential, something he couldn't get back?

The serpent waited, its eyes glowing with ancient knowledge, its body coiled tightly around the spire.

Finally, Aiden spoke, his voice trembling. "Take... a memory. One that I can live without."

The serpent studied him for a long moment, and then it lowered its head, its breath hot against his skin. It is done.

A sudden rush of cold swept through Aiden, and for a moment, he felt something being pulled from him, something intangible but important. A memory he couldn't quite place slipped away, lost to the void.

When it was over, the serpent raised its head once more, its song resuming as if nothing had happened.

The way forward is open, Wanderer. But remember—what is taken cannot be returned.

Aiden nodded, his chest tight with fear and uncertainty. He had paid the price, but at what cost? What memory had he just lost, and would he ever know what had been taken?

With a heavy heart, Aiden turned and began the next part of his journey, the serpent's song fading behind him.