Chapter 12 : The Ruins Shadow

The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the Wildlands as Ryn trudged onward, his boots crunching against the dry earth. The Spirit Fox trotted beside him, its glowing tail swishing rhythmically as it sniffed the air. The silence between them was heavy, filled only by the occasional gust of wind rustling through the grass.

The encounter with Kael still weighed on Ryn's mind. The traveler's cryptic words about the Codex—and the potential of his bond with the Spirit Fox—left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Trust your instincts," Ryn muttered under his breath, mimicking Kael's voice with a scowl. "Easy for you to say when you've got a giant bear-thing guarding your back."

The Spirit Fox let out a soft chirp, glancing up at him.

"I know, I know," Ryn said, sighing. "We didn't have a lot of options. If that ruin's got food or supplies, we need to check it out. Just…" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "Let's be careful, alright? I don't trust that guy."

The fox chirped again, its glowing eyes narrowing as it padded ahead.

The terrain grew rougher as they traveled west. The open plains gave way to uneven ground littered with jagged rocks and clusters of withered trees. Ryn's pack felt heavier with each step, the straps digging into his shoulders. His stomach growled faintly, reminding him how little they'd eaten since leaving the cave.

"Survival's a lot less glamorous than the stories make it sound," Ryn muttered, kicking a loose rock aside.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they crested a small ridge and came to a halt. Below them stretched a shallow valley, and at its center stood the ruin Kael had mentioned.

It was more intact than Ryn had expected. Jagged stone towers rose from the ground like broken teeth, their surfaces weathered by time but still imposing. Crumbled walls surrounded the structure, forming a jagged perimeter littered with debris.

But it wasn't just the ruin itself that caught Ryn's attention—it was the air around it. A faint, unnatural mist clung to the valley, swirling in sluggish patterns that defied the gentle wind.

The Spirit Fox growled softly, its fur bristling.

"Yeah," Ryn said, his voice low. "Something's definitely off about this place."

He crouched at the edge of the ridge, scanning the area carefully. The ruins were silent, but the mist gave them an eerie, almost alive quality. Shadows shifted in ways they shouldn't, and the faint scent of decay lingered in the air.

"What do you think?" Ryn asked, glancing at the fox.

The Spirit Fox chirped softly, its glowing eyes fixed on the ruin.

Ryn hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. But hunger and desperation overruled his fear. If there were supplies—or answers—to be found, they couldn't afford to pass this up.

"Alright," he said, adjusting the straps of his pack. "Let's check it out. But stay close, okay?"

The fox chirped again, pressing against his leg briefly before leading the way down the ridge.

The closer they got to the ruin, the thicker the mist became. It clung to Ryn's clothes and skin like a cold, damp shroud, making it harder to see and breathe. The Spirit Fox stayed close, its glowing fur cutting through the fog like a beacon.

As they stepped through the crumbled perimeter wall, Ryn noticed faint markings carved into the stone. Strange symbols and patterns spiraled across the surface, their edges worn smooth by time.

"Looks old," Ryn muttered, running his fingers over one of the carvings. "Really old."

The Spirit Fox sniffed at the ground, its tail swishing slowly.

The ruin's interior was a maze of collapsed structures and jagged debris. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone floor, and faint patches of moss clung to the damp surfaces. The mist muffled sound, turning even Ryn's footsteps into dull, ghostly echoes.

His grip tightened on the knife at his belt as they moved deeper into the ruins. The air felt heavier here, charged with an unnatural energy that made his skin crawl.

And then he heard it—a faint whisper, barely more than a breath of sound.

Ryn froze, his heart pounding as he strained to listen.

The whisper came again, a soft, fragmented murmur that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The Spirit Fox growled low in its throat, its glowing eyes darting toward the shadows.

"What the hell is that?" Ryn whispered, his voice trembling.

The whisper grew louder, the fragments of sound coalescing into faint, distorted words.

"Turn… back…"

Ryn's blood ran cold. He gripped his knife tightly, his knuckles turning white.

The Spirit Fox stepped closer to him, its fur bristling as it let out a warning chirp.

"I don't like this," Ryn muttered, his voice barely audible. "Not one bit."

The whisper faded, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. Ryn's instincts screamed at him to leave, but his feet refused to move.

He glanced down at the Spirit Fox, its glowing tail flicking anxiously. The bond between them pulsed faintly, and Ryn felt a flicker of determination—not his own, but the fox's.

"We're not alone here," Ryn said quietly. "But if we leave now, we'll come back with nothing."

The fox chirped softly, its gaze steady.

"Alright," Ryn said, exhaling slowly. "Let's move quickly. In and out."

They pressed deeper into the ruins, each step heavier than the last. The mist thickened around them, and the carvings on the walls grew more elaborate and chaotic.

Ryn's eyes flicked to the shadows constantly, his senses straining for any sign of movement. The oppressive energy in the air seemed to press harder against him, weighing on his shoulders like an invisible hand.

Finally, they reached what appeared to be the ruin's central chamber—a circular space surrounded by cracked pillars and a crumbling dome. At its center stood a pedestal, its surface carved with intricate runes that glowed faintly in the misty light.

Ryn approached cautiously, his knife ready. The Spirit Fox stayed close, its glowing fur dimming slightly as if to avoid drawing attention.

The pedestal's glow pulsed faintly as Ryn stepped closer. Symbols shifted and twisted across its surface, forming patterns that seemed to move of their own accord.

"What is this…?" Ryn murmured, reaching out to touch the stone.

The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the air around them erupted with movement.

Shadows poured from the walls, coalescing into humanoid shapes with glowing red eyes. Their bodies flickered and warped, as if they were barely clinging to existence, but the menace in their movements was undeniable.

The Spirit Fox growled, its tail flaring brightly as it stepped in front of Ryn.

"Of course," Ryn muttered, his heart racing. "Why would anything out here be easy?"

The first shadow lunged, and the fight began.