The Whispering Stones

Caleb stood at his father's workshop, hands coated in sawdust, the scent of fresh wood filling his lungs. Yet his mind wasn't here. It hadn't been here for a long time.

Something was wrong with him.

He didn't bruise like the other boys when he fell. His wounds healed too fast. And the dreams—those wretched, suffocating dreams—clawed at his mind every night.

Whispers drifted in the dark. Unseen voices murmuring his name.

Some nights, he woke with the feeling of hands pressing against his chest. Other nights, he heard a language he did not know, yet understood.

He was no fool. This was not normal.

He had thought the touch of the Shadow God was supposed to bring blessings. So why did he feel like something else was growing inside him?

Tonight, he would seek an answer. Tonight, he would pray.

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The chamber was dark, save for the faint glow of the stone in Caleb's palm. The runes carved into its surface pulsed, warm against his skin, as he knelt before his makeshift altar.

His voice trembled.

"O Great One… O Shadow in the Abyss… Hear me."

The words left his lips naturally, instinctually.

"I seek your guidance. I seek your will."

The room chilled. The flame of his candle flickered wildly.

Something shifted.

Elsewhere Julius's fingers twitched as the name Malsifur settled in his mind. An unease curled around his thoughts, as if something unseen had turned its gaze toward him.

Casper, unaware of the weight of that name, clicked his tongue. "You're making that face again. The one that says we're all screwed."

Julius barely acknowledged him, his focus shifting to the sigil burned into the corpse's forehead. The edges still pulsed faintly, the remains of whatever ritual had taken place.

He let out a slow breath. "This isn't just a message. It's a warning."

Casper scoffed. "Yeah? A warning from who?"

Julius didn't answer. Because he had a feeling that the answer wasn't something anyone wanted to hear.

Whispers...

"Oh, Shadowed One… King of the Forgotten… I call upon you. I seek your guidance."

Pain flared in Julius's palm.

A searing, unnatural burn, as if fire had been pressed against his flesh.

His breath caught. He knew this sensation.

Someone was calling him.

Without hesitation, he stepped back into the shadows—his hand gripping the mark on his palm. The world around him twisted, blurred, shattered.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in Oxenheim.

He stood atop the Throne of Stars.

Above him, the vast celestial ceiling shimmered with countless lights—each a distant, flickering presence. Prayers. Pleas. Whispers of those who sought his guidance.

But only one burned with an intensity that sent pain lancing through his palm.

His gaze lowered.

There, at the base of the grand steps leading to his throne, knelt Caleb.

The boy trembled, overwhelmed by the presence that surrounded him—the towering stone guardians that loomed behind the throne, their eyeless faces turned toward the supplicant.

Julius exhaled slowly, composing himself. Then, in a voice that reverberated across the hall, he spoke.

"You have called me."

Caleb flinched before pressing his forehead to the cold ground. "Oh, great one, I—I am unworthy, yet I beg for your guidance once more."

His voice wavered, thick with reverence. "You have already saved my father… yet I ask of you again. I… I have been cursed."

Julius's gaze sharpened.

Caleb continued, his voice filled with desperation. "During the investigation of the 'Handless Bride' case… something—someone—touched me. Since that night, I have not been the same. I see things in my sleep. I hear voices."

He swallowed.

"And last night, I dreamed of… snakes."

Julius stilled.

Snakes?

A vision flickered in his mind—a garden filled with vibrant roses. A silver-haired woman with an empty face. A whisper that slithered beneath his skin.

His own experience with the Cursed Doll.

But Caleb had not played the game. He had not been marked as a participant.

So why—

"Give the order…"

A shiver ran down Julius's spine.

The whisper had not come from Caleb.

It came from behind him.

He did not turn. He did not need to. He knew where it came from.

The stone guardians.

Their unmoving faces, their towering presence… they had never spoken before.

And yet—

"Give the order, and your enemy will disappear."

Julius's fingers curled into fists. His mind raced.

Caleb was no enemy.

But something was.

Something clung to him. Something that did not belong.

Julius exhaled sharply. He needed to act before it was too late.

His fingers extended—the shadows in the celestial hall trembled, coiling like living tendrils.

"Do not fear," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of a god. "I shall purge you."

Darkness surged forward, swallowing Caleb whole.

For a moment, all was silent.

Then—

A scream.

But it was not Caleb's voice.

It was something else.

"Who dares disturb my slumber…?"

The celestial hall shuddered.

Julius's eyes widened.

What the hell was that?!