Dark Mountain

The last step onto the chain led them to the Dark Mountain's slope. The wind was different here. Not just cold, but heavy, dense, as if it carried something more than just air.

Fenix felt the chill bite into his skin, piercing his bones like invisible needles.

Vanya was the first to speak, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don't like this."

Ron exhaled, his breath forming small clouds of vapor. The temperature shift was brutal. The first mountain had been cold at higher altitudes, but this was different. Here, the cold didn't just freeze the body—it felt like it was seeping into their skin, into their very souls.

"At least we made it across," Rhen commented, trying to sound optimistic, though his gaze remained sharp.

He looked back at the far end of the chain, where the colossus still roared furiously, yet showed no sign of following them.

Fenix glanced at the ground beneath his feet. It was different.

Where the first mountain had a rocky surface, with cracks and trails formed over time, here the ground was dark, uneven, and brittle, as if the mountain itself was on the verge of collapse.

Each step kicked up a fine black dust, which floated in the air before vanishing into the mist.

And yes, there was mist.

It wasn't natural. It did not rise from the ground or descend from the peak.

It was simply there, suspended, as if the mountain itself was breathing its own venomous breath.

"Vanya, how high are we?" Ron asked.

Vanya frowned, concentrating. Her affinity with the wind allowed her to sense air pressure with precision.

"…I don't know."

Fenix stared at her, surprised by her response.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It's strange," she said, shaking her head. "The air pressure should be lower here, but… I can't measure it properly. It's like… we're nowhere at all."

Ron and Rhen exchanged glances. That was not a good sign.

Fenix swallowed hard and looked ahead. The path before them was not easy.

From their position on the slope, they could see how the mountain rose like a wall of shadows and stone.

There were no clear trails.

Just a chaos of jagged rocks, deep fissures, and twisted formations that seemed to writhe under the dim light of the sky.

And the worst part…

Silence.

Not a single sound of life.

No birds.

No insects.

No wind moving the rocks.

Only the echo of their own footsteps and their own breathing, far too loud in their ears.

Fenix shivered.

And, for a second, he had the feeling that something was watching them.

Not from the ground.

Not from the peak.

From the mist itself.

He clenched his teeth and looked away. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe.

"We have no choice. We have to keep moving," Ron finally said, breaking the silence.

Rhen sighed and started walking, followed by the others. The journey through Dark Mountain had begun.

Fenix took one last glance at the mist.

The feeling of being watched did not disappear.

On the contrary…

It intensified.

The group moved cautiously, each of them feeling the weight of the oppressive atmosphere.

The cold was intense, but unnatural.

Not just a matter of temperature—but something deeper, something that seemed to drain the warmth from within.

Fenix couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of being watched.

It wasn't coming from a single point.

It was everywhere at once.

As if the very mountain had hidden eyes within the mist.

The terrain grew increasingly treacherous.

With every step, the ground creaked ominously beneath their feet, as if the rock was far more fragile than it appeared.

"I feel like if I step too hard, the whole mountain will break apart," murmured Rhen, lightly kicking a loose stone.

The fragment fell and fell… but the impact never came.

The silence grew even denser.

Not even an echo responded.

"That's not normal," Vanya whispered.

Fenix swallowed hard.

He didn't want to look back.

He didn't want to see if something was following them.

After a few more minutes of walking, they stumbled upon the remains of something… human.

At the edge of the path, half-buried in the dark snow, lay a skeleton clad in tattered leather armor.

Ron knelt and examined the remains. The metal was corroded, but what stood out were the marks on the bones.

Not bite marks.

Looks like sword cuts.

Long, deep… cuts.

"This wasn't done by an ordinary beast," Ron murmured, lifting a piece of armor punctured by a hole—a hole that looked like it had been made from the inside out.

Vanya crouched beside him, observing the skeleton.

"There are no signs of a fight around here," she said, frowning.

"If he was attacked here, why is there no trace of blood? Where are the weapons? Where is… the rest of his body?"

A chill ran down Fenix's spine.

The mountain had swallowed this person whole.

Or something else had.

A whisper.

Not the wind.

Not an echo of their own steps.

A real whisper.

Fenix turned sharply.

But there was nothing.

Just the mist… shifting.

"Did you hear that?" he asked quietly.

Ron and Rhen exchanged glances.

They hadn't heard anything.

But Vanya had.

Her rigid stance and the way her hand tightened around her bow confirmed it.

"Something is watching us," she said, her voice barely audible.

Rhen, trying to ease the tension, picked up a rock from the ground and threw it into the mist.

The stone vanished into the fog.

One second of silence.

Two seconds.

Something threw it back.

But now it was covered in blood.

The group instinctively stepped back, feeling the air around them grow heavier.

Fenix couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloodied stone.

Where had that blood come from?

Ron unsheathed his sword.

There was no longer any doubt.

They were not alone in Dark Mountain.

And worst of all…

Whatever was stalking them wanted them to know it was there.

Then they heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Controlled.

Getting closer.

Fenix felt his heart pound in his chest.

His gaze turned toward the thick mist, trying to make out a figure… and then he saw it.

Just a silhouette—tall, thin, draped in a black cloak.

He couldn't see its face.

The hood concealed any human features.

But the worst part…

Were its hands.

In each one, it held a curved scythe—thin, sharp, deadly, their edges glinting in the faint light that reached the mountain.

"What… the hell is that?" Rhen whispered, gripping his sword tightly.

The figure did not respond.

It made no sound.

It just kept walking.

But it did so with an eerie calm, as if it had all the time in the world.

It wasn't hunting.

It was cornering them.

Fenix shivered.

He didn't know how, but something inside him told him they couldn't fight this thing.

Not here.

Not on its territory

Suddenly, the wind howled violently.

The mist stirred, and for a brief moment—the figure vanished.

Fenix staggered back… and then he felt it.

A pull deep inside him.

He couldn't explain it.

It was as if something within the mountain was calling him, as if his instincts were screaming at him—not to move forwartoryd, but to turn away.

He snapped his head around, searching for the source of this strange sensation.

And then he saw it.

Between the jagged rocks and crevices of the mountain, there was an opening barely visible—

As if someone had sealed it long ago with time and darkness.

But it was there.

And the most unsettling part…

Only he could see it.

"Over here!" Fenix shouted, pointing toward the gap.

Ron frowned. "What? Where?"

Fenix felt a chill run down his spine.

Why could he see it, but the others couldn't?

There was no time to think.

The wind howled again—and when the mist parted, the cloaked figure was suddenly standing right in front of them.

A second longer, and it would have attacked.

They couldn't afford to hesitate.

Fenix was the first to leap into the passage.

The group fell into darkness, tumbling over unstable ground until they landed inside a hidden underground tunnel.

The air was thick, heavy—not just with dust, but with something else.

A scent old and stagnant, yet strangely unfamiliar.

Vanya was the first to regain her footing. She raised her hand, summoning a faint current of wind, stirring up the dust, clearing their surroundings.

Slowly, the darkness receded.

And that's when they saw it.

Ruins.

Ancient, forgotten, covered in cracks and the scars of war.

The walls were adorned with strange inscriptions— symbols carved with almost inhuman precision. Some were pristine, while others were deteriorated with age.

But the most unsettling part…

Fenix could see them clearly.

The symbols…

glowed faintly in his eyes.

The others saw nothing but worn stone.

He couldn't understand them.

Didn't know what they meant.

But he knew they weren't there by accident.

They were here for him.

The air inside the ruins was suffocating.

Not from heat—but from an invisible weight pressing down on them.

Each breath felt dense, as if the very air was clinging to their lungs.

Fenix walked ahead, drawn by something he couldn't explain.

The stone passage was narrow and winding, its walls lined with inscriptions worn down by time.

The floor beneath him was cracked and dusty, but deep inside…

He knew this was no ordinary place.

Something had happened here.

Something important.

And his body recognized it.

"Fenix…"

The voice rippled through his mind like a distant echo.

He froze.

He hadn't heard it with his ears.

It wasn't a whisper in the tunnel.

It was something deeper.

Something inside him.

His head snapped around instinctively, but his companions continued moving forward, unaware.

Only he had heard it.

'Who… is speaking?' he thought, a shiver running down his spine.

The weight on his chest grew heavier.

His vision blurred for a split second.

The cave walls seemed to pulse, as if something was alive within them.

"Come closer…"

The voice called again.

And without thinking, he kept walking.

The passage led them into a vast, circular chamber.

At its center, covered in dust and debris, stood a black stone altar.

The walls were covered in more inscriptions, some carved with precise craftsmanship, others weathered and broken.

Yet, despite the decay…

Fenix could still see them glow faintly.

Only him.

And then, the torches hanging on the walls suddenly ignited.

Flames erupted without a source, casting an eerie crimson glow across the room.

The group jumped back instantly.

"What the hell…?!" Rhen gasped, his sword instinctively drawn.

Vanya spun on her heels, an arrow already nocked in her bow—but there was no enemy.

Only fire.

Fenix's stomach twisted.

The altar…

It was calling him.

Not with words. Not with sound.

It was something primal.

A pull he couldn't deny.

Something inside him was responding to this place.

And then…

His body began to fail.

His legs felt heavier.

His vision blurred.

The pressure in his chest grew unbearable.

It was as if something inside him was awakening, but his body wasn't ready to handle it.

"Fenix," Ron's voice carried concern. "Are you okay?"

Fenix gritted his teeth.

No. No, he wasn't.

Cold sweat ran down his back.

His head throbbed, like his skull was trying to break apart.

"We need to get out of here," Vanya muttered, her gaze locked on the torches. "This place isn't normal."

Fenix wanted to reply… but his mouth was dry.

Something inside the altar vibrated.

And then…

The flames flickered violently.

The voice whispered one last time.

"I've been waiting for you."