Chapter 8: The Heart of Shadows

Lucas stood frozen, the figure's words still echoing in his mind like a haunting whisper. All worlds. Was this some kind of elaborate trap? His pulse hammered in his ears, and the strange energy inside him swirled, responding to the figure's words like a dangerous, untamed force.

Elara, ever the skeptic, was the first to break the silence. "You speak in riddles," she muttered, but there was a tremor in her voice that Lucas could hear. It was clear that even she couldn't deny the gravity of the situation. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, the faint shimmer of his robes casting an ethereal light against the darkened landscape. His blue eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and... something else—something ancient.

"You are not ready to understand," the figure replied, his voice soft but carrying a weight that settled heavily in the air. "But time is running out. The fabric of the worlds is unraveling, and you—Lucas—are a part of it."

Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. His name. The figure knew it. How?

Before he could ask, the ground beneath them trembled again, but this time it was different. It wasn't just a rumble. The earth cracked open in a blinding flash, and a wave of dark energy surged out like a tidal wave, rushing toward them.

"Get back!" Elara shouted, pulling Lucas away as the shadows swept closer.

But it was too late. The darkness surged toward them with a speed that defied logic, wrapping around them in tendrils like living vines. It was cold. Hungry.

"Not again," Lucas gasped, as the shadows began to swallow him whole.

The figure—still calm—raised his hand. The darkness halted as if frozen in place. A slow, almost meditative silence hung in the air, and the figure's eyes flickered with something Lucas couldn't quite place. It was almost as if the shadows were listening to him.

"You have come to the heart of the darkness," the figure said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is the true face of your curse. The shadow realm. The place where forgotten souls go to die."

"Forgotten souls?" Lucas repeated, his voice tight with panic. "What do you mean? Where are we?"

Elara's grip tightened on her dagger, her expression hardening with resolve. "We don't have time for cryptic answers. We need to leave—now."

The figure gave her an amused glance. "Leaving is not so simple. This place… is a prison. A prison for those who were never meant to remember. A prison for the lost."

At the mention of the word "lost," Lucas' heart skipped a beat. Something stirred within him, a deep, instinctual pull. A feeling that there was something buried in his past—something that was being dragged to the surface by the words of this mysterious figure.

"I don't understand," he muttered, his hands trembling. "What do you mean, 'never meant to remember'?"

The figure's eyes narrowed. "Some things are forgotten for a reason. But now, the past is catching up. You were chosen, Lucas. Chosen to carry the burden of this curse."

Before Lucas could respond, the shadows around them began to churn violently. The ground cracked open again, and out of the gaping abyss emerged figures. Tall, hunched beings cloaked in darkness, their eyes glowing like molten fire. They were hungry, their forms wreathed in the black void that seemed to follow them wherever they went.

"Nightmares," the figure muttered, his tone almost regretful. "They are the result of lost souls. And you are their prey."

Elara didn't hesitate. She charged forward, her dagger gleaming as it sliced through the air. But the shadows didn't flinch. With a roar, the nightmares lunged at her, and Lucas felt a pang of panic.

"Elara!" he shouted, but she was already engaged, her movements fluid and sharp as she dodged and countered.

Lucas looked down at his hands, the strange energy still pulsing inside him. He could feel it. The power was there, but it was out of control.

The ground trembled beneath him again, and the energy surged.

Without thinking, Lucas raised his hand, his palm facing the shadows. He could feel the heat rising within him, an unrelenting force that seemed to push against his own will. But he couldn't stop it.

"Stop." The voice was clear now. The voice in his head. It wasn't his own, but it was so familiar. It was the same voice that had whispered to him in his dreams. The same voice that had warned him in the past.

"You have the power, Lucas. But don't let it control you."

The warning. It rang loud and clear. Lucas clenched his teeth, fighting against the surge of power. His vision blurred as the energy around him intensified. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but it was too much.

And then, he heard it.

A low, sinister growl. A massive shadow figure was charging toward him. The nightmare was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its glowing eyes locked onto him, a malicious intelligence behind them.

This was no ordinary nightmare.

It was hunting him.

In that instant, the power inside Lucas snapped.

The ground beneath him cracked open again, but this time, it was Lucas himself who was pulling the shadows into himself. The darkness, like a hungry beast, swarmed around him, but instead of devouring him, it answered.

The nightmare stopped in its tracks.

Elara froze too, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Lucas… What are you doing?"

The figure stepped forward, his eyes glowing brightly now. "He's embracing his curse."