Shadows of the Past

The battle against the Harbinger had left the air thick with tension, the echoes of whispers still lingering in Kael's mind as he and Sylas pushed forward through the dense forest. The weight of exhaustion pressed against them, but stopping was not an option. The moment they hesitated would be the moment they became prey.

The shadows of the trees stretched long in the moonlight, their branches like grasping fingers reaching toward the two travelers. Every rustling leaf, every shifting branch made Kael's grip tighten on his sword. The night was alive with unseen threats, and after what they had faced, paranoia clung to them like a second skin.

Kael's breaths were heavy, his grip tight around his sword. His father's voice still clawed at the edges of his thoughts. Come home, my son. Those words weren't just a taunt; they were a declaration of war. His father wasn't content with just watching from the shadows. He was reaching for Kael, trying to pull him back into the darkness.

But Kael had already chosen his path. He would never return. The memories of his father's presence, of the power he wielded, threatened to seep into his mind, but Kael shoved them aside. He had fought too hard to break free. The past was behind him—he had to make sure it stayed there.

Sylas kept pace beside him, his expression unreadable. "That wasn't just any servant of your father." His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but in the eerie silence of the forest, it rang clear.

Kael glanced at him, his mind still reeling from the encounter. "You recognized it."

Sylas nodded, his tone grim. "Harbingers are rare. They don't just appear without purpose. If your father sent one, it means he's either testing you or preparing something much worse."

Kael didn't need to be told twice. His father's influence was creeping closer, and this encounter had proven that time was no longer a luxury. He couldn't afford to take careful steps anymore. He had to strike before he became ensnared in the very fate he was trying to escape. The question lingered in his mind: was this just a message, or the beginning of something far more sinister?

The trees parted as they reached a narrow cliffside path, overlooking the vast valley below. The silver glow of the moon illuminated the landscape, casting long, haunting shadows. Below, the ruins of an old outpost stood against the night, its walls worn down by time and war. Broken towers jutted from the ground like the bones of a long-dead giant. What had once been a place of strength and resistance was now nothing more than a scar on the land.

Sylas crouched at the cliff's edge, scanning the area. "There," he pointed, his voice low. "That's where we need to go."

Kael followed his gaze. "What is it?"

"A sanctuary," Sylas replied. "Or at least, what's left of one. This place used to belong to the old resistance before your father crushed them."

The mention of the resistance made Kael's stomach twist. Once upon a time, there had been a force strong enough to stand against his father. They had failed, but their cause hadn't been in vain. If anything, Kael's very existence was proof of that. He had no memories of those battles, but their echoes lived in the scars of the land, in the whispered legends of those who still defied the dark empire his father had built.

As they descended the rocky slope, a cold wind howled through the valley, carrying with it the scent of dust and decay. The ruins were lifeless, yet something about them felt… wrong. The air was thick, oppressive, as if the very stones of the place were whispering secrets of the past. Kael felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. There was something here—something unseen, something waiting.

"We're not alone," Kael muttered, gripping his sword tighter.

Sylas nodded, his daggers already in his hands. "Be ready."

They stepped into the remnants of what had once been a fortress. The walls were cracked, the banners long faded. Yet the deeper they ventured, the more the sensation of being watched grew. Shadows pooled in the corners, stretching unnaturally in the flickering moonlight. The wind carried a faint whisper, though neither of them spoke.

Kael's instincts screamed at him just as the first shadow moved.

A blur of motion struck from the darkness, and Kael barely managed to deflect the attack. The clang of metal against metal rang through the ruins as a hooded figure emerged, wielding twin blades that gleamed under the moonlight.

Sylas cursed and leapt into action, engaging another enemy that had appeared from behind the broken pillars. More figures slithered from the darkness, their forms barely distinguishable from the ruined walls around them.

"Assassins," Kael growled. "No doubt sent by him."

The figure lunged again, swift and relentless. Kael parried, countering with a strike aimed at his opponent's torso. But the assassin twisted unnaturally, dodging with inhuman reflexes. These weren't ordinary killers. They had been enhanced. Kael could feel it—the same sickening, twisted energy that had tainted Malrik now radiated from them like a foul miasma. His father's influence had corrupted them.

Dark energy pulsed from their movements, and Kael realized it then—their bodies carried traces of the same corruption that had tainted Malrik. His father's reach had extended even here, twisting warriors into something unnatural. They moved without hesitation, without fear. Their blades sang through the air like whispers of death, their attacks seamless, as though they were not merely fighting but enacting a ritual of slaughter.

He gritted his teeth. This wasn't a simple ambush. It was a message. A warning that no matter how far he ran, his father's grip would always find him.

Kael adjusted his stance, waiting for the assassin's next move. When it came, he was ready. The moment the figure lunged, he sidestepped, using his opponent's momentum against them. His sword found its mark, cutting deep into the assassin's side. A gurgled cry escaped them as they stumbled back, but no blood spilled. Instead, a dark mist seeped from the wound, writhing like living tendrils before vanishing into the air.

Behind him, Sylas finished his own fight, his opponent crumpling lifelessly to the ground. "This is worse than I thought," he muttered, wiping his blade clean. "They've been turned into vessels."

Kael's jaw tightened. "Then my father's experiments are spreading."

Sylas sheathed his daggers and nodded toward the ruins ahead. "If we want to stop this, we need answers. And I know exactly where to start."

Kael followed his gaze to the shattered remains of a once-mighty tower standing at the heart of the ruins.

The past had left its scars here. But if it held the key to ending this nightmare, then Kael was ready to face whatever shadows awaited him next.

Together, they pressed on, unaware that something far more sinister was already waiting for them in the depths of the ruins.