Chapter Six: The Edge of Darkness

The fire had burned low, reduced to faint embers casting a dim glow across the outcropping. Heavy silence blanketed the Shadowfjord, unyielding and pressing in from all sides. Cold bit sharply through my cloak as I opened my eyes, cutting through its thin warmth.

Instead of resting on the ground, my head was perched on something far warmer—and far less rocky. I blinked, disoriented, before the realization struck like lightning. My head was on Ghost's lap.

I shot up so fast I nearly toppled backward. "I—I didn't mean—" I stammered, face burning.

Ghost raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk as he leaned back against the rock. "Morning to you too," he said with amusement. "Sleep well?"

"It wasn't—" I started, but the words stuck. "It wasn't on purpose."

"Uh-huh." His smirk deepened. "Relax, Daggs. Not a big deal."

"It's a bit of a big deal," I muttered, brushing dirt from my hands, pulse still racing as the heat refused to fade from my cheeks.

Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. "You're too easy to mess with," he said, voice softening. "You looked like you needed rest. I didn't mind."

Unsure how to respond, I busied myself adjusting my cloak and brushing off imaginary dirt, though my pounding heart wasn't entirely from embarrassment anymore.

Cain's voice startled me, cutting through the quiet. "You should both be on your feet," he said from near the outcropping's edge. His silhouette loomed stark against the void, carrying a grim weight that tightened my chest.

Ghost sighed exaggeratedly as he stood, rolling his shoulders. "Morning pep talks are your specialty, huh, Cain?"

Cain ignored him, eyes fixed on the jagged path ahead. The oppressive cold lingered, the air heavy and humming faintly with unexplainable tension.

"We're close to the edge," Cain finally said, his voice quieter but sharp. He turned to us, his expression unreadable. "The fjord's hold is strongest here. Stay alert."

"What exactly are we guarding against?" I asked, quieter than I intended.

Cain didn't waver, though something dark flickered briefly in his gaze. "Everything."

The jagged arch of black stone loomed closer with each step, rising like remains of some ancient, impossible creature. Silence grew heavier, the faint hum vibrating against my skin and crawling down my spine.

Cain led the way, movements unyielding yet subtly changed in a way I couldn't name. Ghost walked beside me, blade drawn, scanning the shadows with practiced wariness. Though silent, his presence steadied me as the air seemed to close in.

Near the arch, the path shifted, jagged black stones grinding like brittle bones. Ghost muttered a curse, his free hand steadying me when the ground tilted.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low, tinged with concern.

"Yeah," I said quickly, though trembling legs and tight chest betrayed me. "Thanks."

Ghost nodded but didn't remove his hand until I steadied. Cain, as usual, didn't look back.

"What is this place?" I whispered.

Cain stopped abruptly, his expression colder than the air. "This is the Edge—the final boundary of the Shadowfjord."

I swallowed hard, gaze drifting toward the towering arch. The jagged stones pulsed faintly as if alive, the space beyond impossibly wrong. Stars reflecting in the water disappeared beyond it, replaced by darkness so absolute it made the fjord seem welcoming.

"The fjord's hold is strongest here," Cain said, voice edged. "It will test you. Break you, if it can."

"Great," Ghost muttered, grip tightening on his blade. "Just what I always wanted."

Cain ignored him, sharp gaze fixed on me. "If you're not ready, turn back. There's no shame in it."

I opened my mouth, but Ghost cut in firmly, stepping slightly ahead of me. "He's not turning back. Neither of us are."

Cain's unreadable gaze shifted to Ghost. Silence stretched heavy between them before Cain nodded. "Stay close. Don't lose focus. The fjord exploits any weakness."

He turned, his figure stark against the void. Ghost shot me a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "You ready for this?"

"No," I admitted quietly. "But I'm not stopping now."

Ghost smirked faintly, softer than usual. "Good answer."

"The fjord's hold is strongest here," Cain continued, his voice low and edged with something unnamed. "It will test you. Break you, if it can."

"Great," Ghost muttered, tightening his grip on his blade. "Just what I always wanted."

Cain ignored him, sharp eyes fixed on me. "If you're not ready, turn back now," he said, tone flat but weighted. "There's no shame in it."

I opened my mouth, but Ghost cut in firmly, stepping slightly ahead of me. "He's not turning back. Neither of us are."

Cain's gaze shifted to Ghost, unreadable. The silence stretched, charged and heavy, until Cain finally nodded. "Stay close," he said. "Don't lose focus. The fjord exploits weakness."

We followed Cain toward the arch, the air growing colder with every step. The fjord's hum became a roar, vibrating through my bones and twisting my thoughts. Whatever lay beyond the Edge, it would change everything.

The hum wasn't just a sound—it was a presence, invasive and tangible. It pressed against my mind, twisting fragments of memories I couldn't control. My breathing grew uneven as we neared the arch, the jagged stones pulsing faintly with an echoing energy.

Ghost walked close beside me, blade in one hand, his other resting lightly on the small of my back. The contact was subtle but grounding, a quiet assurance I wasn't alone.

"Whatever you do," Cain said sharply, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence, "don't stop moving. The fjord feeds on hesitation."

Ghost muttered something under his breath, too low to hear, but his hand lingered a moment longer before he pulled it away. I glanced at him, my chest tightening at the tension in his jaw.

"I'm fine," he said, answering the question I hadn't asked. "Just keep your head on straight, Daggs."

I nodded, though my hands trembled and my breathing stayed uneven. The darkness ahead swallowed all light, thickening with every step. I glanced toward Cain—his face unreadable, focus fixed.

At the base of the arch, the hum surged, vibrating through my bones and making my knees buckle. Ghost caught my arm, steadying me as my vision blurred.

"Daggs," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the fog. "You with me?"

"Yeah," I gasped, though the word felt hollow. "I'm—I'm okay."

Cain turned, his expression colder than ever. "This is where the fjord tests you," he said, his low voice cutting through the air. "It will show you everything you fear, everything you regret. Let it, and it will break you."

Ghost's jaw tightened, raising his blade slightly. "You've got a real talent for being cheerful, Cain."

"This isn't a joke," Cain snapped, eyes narrowing. "The fjord doesn't want you to leave. Give it an inch, and it will take everything."

I swallowed hard as the arch loomed above us, jagged and immense, the void beyond impossibly black. The weight of it pressed against me, pulling at the edges of my mind.

Cain's gaze shifted to me, hard. "This is your last chance to turn back. Once you step through, there's no going back."

"I'm not turning back," I said, surprised by my steady voice.

Ghost stepped closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he glanced at Cain. "Neither of us are."

Cain studied us, silent and unreadable, before finally nodding. "Then follow me."

As we stepped beneath the jagged frame, the hum exploded into a deafening roar. The world didn't just shatter—it unraveled. The path crumbled into nothingness, the fjord's roar swelling until it was all I could hear, all I could feel. My chest tightened, vision blurred, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if I was falling or standing still.

When the noise faded, the silence that followed was deafening. I blinked, my surroundings slowly shifting into focus—or the Shadowfjord's version of focus. Darkness stretched endlessly, an absolute void that felt like the absence of existence itself. Ghost and Cain were gone. I couldn't see or hear them. I was alone.

My breath quickened, panic rising in my throat. "Ghost?" I called, voice cracking. "Cain?"

The silence swallowed my words, the void pressing closer. Then—faintly—a whisper threaded through my thoughts like smoke. It wasn't a voice, not exactly, but a presence. It spoke in fragments, in emotions, and memories that weren't mine.

You don't belong here. The thought wasn't my own, but it echoed with heavy finality. Turn back before it's too late.

Clenching my fists, I forced a step forward. The ground beneath me didn't feel solid—more like the idea of solidity—but it held. "I'm not turning back," I said, my voice firm. "I've come too far."

The whisper grew louder, splintering into multiple voices, clawing at my mind's edges. They spoke of failure, regret, every mistake I'd buried deep—and magnified the doubts I struggled to silence.

Through the cacophony, a different voice broke through. "Daggs!" Ghost's voice, distant but clear, reeled me back from the abyss the fjord seemed ready to drag me into.

Relief surged, drowning out panic, and my feet moved before I realized it. The jagged void blurred as I stumbled forward, chest heaving. Then I saw him—steady, real, materializing through the darkness. Without thinking, I acted.

I ran to him, the distance collapsing in an instant, throwing my arms around him. My head pressed against his chest, and for one fleeting moment, the fjord's crushing weight eased.

Ghost stiffened, his free hand hovering before resting lightly on my back. "Daggs," he said softly, his tone caught between concern and amusement. "You okay?"

The realization of what I'd done hit me, and I pulled away abruptly, my face burning. "I—sorry," I stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't mean to…"

Ghost raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Embarrassment bubbled in my chest, but I couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. Ghost's smirk softened, his hand giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Come on," he said, his tone light but steady. "We've got this."

I nodded, the panic ebbing as Ghost's presence anchored me. The darkness of the fjord still loomed, but with him beside me, breathing felt easier.

"Where's Cain?" I asked suddenly, the realization striking me. The jagged void pulsed and shifted faintly, alive in ways I couldn't explain. But Cain was gone.

Ghost's jaw tightened. "Gone. For now, at least. It's just us."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against my chest. The fjord had separated us from Cain's steady—if distant—presence, leaving us to face its trials alone. But as Ghost's hand brushed my arm, grounding me again, a thought crystallized.

We might be alone, but we weren't broken. Not yet.

The darkness clung to us like a living thing, shifting and pulsing with unnatural rhythm. Each step forward grew harder, the air crushing against my chest as though the fjord itself wanted to break me. Ghost stayed close, his presence anchoring me against the suffocating void.

The jagged ground crackled faintly beneath us, each step rippling through shadowed surroundings. I glanced at Ghost, whose knuckles had turned white on his blade. His jaw was set, his eyes scanning the shifting void, but the strain showed in his expression.

"You hear that?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Ghost nodded, gaze narrowing. "Yeah. It's not just in your head."

The hum returned—not as overwhelming, but sharper and focused, threading through the air like a needle seeking weakness. My breathing quickened, panic rising again, but I forced it down.

"We have to keep moving," Ghost said firmly. "If we stay here, it'll—"

The ground shifted violently, jagged stones splitting as a chasm yawned open at our feet. I stumbled backward, arms pinwheeling for balance. Ghost lunged forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me back just as the edge crumbled away.

"Watch your step," he said, voice tight but edged with dry humor. "Not the place for sightseeing."

I managed a weak smile, though my chest still heaved. "Thanks," I murmured.

Ghost didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the chasm. Beyond its jagged edges, the void was darker than any darkness I'd known—alive, watching, waiting for us to falter.

"We're not jumping that," Ghost said grimly. "There's got to be another way across."

As if in answer, the hum sharpened and the void rippled. Across the chasm, a faint flickering light appeared—barely visible against the suffocating darkness. It wasn't natural. It felt more like the memory of light, hauntingly fragile.

"Do you see that?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Ghost followed my gaze, his jaw tightening. "Yeah. But something tells me it's not friendly."

The light flickered again, brighter now, and the air grew colder. Without thinking, I stepped closer to Ghost, the unease in my chest knotting tighter.

"We have to move," Ghost said quietly, urgency lacing his tone. "Whatever that is, we don't want to stick around long enough to find out."

I nodded, swallowing hard as we turned from the chasm and began searching for another path. But the flickering light followed us, dancing in the edges of my vision like a restless shadow. Every time I turned to focus on it, it vanished—only to reappear closer than before.

The fjord wasn't just testing us. It was hunting us.

The light didn't relent. It lingered at the edges of my vision, always closer, always out of reach. The air grew colder with every step, the hum vibrating in my skull like a relentless drumbeat. Ghost's grip on his blade remained tight, his knuckles pale against the void. His steps were steady, deliberate, but I could see the tension in every movement—the way his gaze darted toward the flicker when it surged closer.

"What do you think it is?" I whispered, though I wasn't sure I wanted an answer.

"Nothing good," Ghost muttered, his voice strained. "Stay sharp. If it's following us, there's a reason."

The knot in my chest tightened, my hands trembling as I tried to focus on the path. But the jagged ground beneath us began to shift again—stones cracking and crumbling, as if the fjord itself was alive, reacting to our presence. Every step felt precarious, the void waiting to swallow me whole.

"Daggs," Ghost said sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence. I turned toward him just as the flicker surged forward—brighter and more defined than before. For the first time, I could make out its shape: humanoid, blurred at the edges, pale and only half-real.

It hovered beyond the chasm, flickering in and out of existence. My breath hitched, panic clawing at my throat as whispers returned—poison threading through my thoughts, pulling at memories and fears I tried to bury. You can't escape. You'll fail, just like before.

"What is that?" I asked, voice trembling.

Ghost stepped closer, blade raised. "Stay behind me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The figure didn't move, but its flickering outline seemed to shift. The pale light seeped into the shadows, and the whispers grew louder—insistent, relentless, clawing at every doubt and regret.

Ghost's voice broke through the haze, steady and sharp. "Daggs, focus. Don't let it get in your head."

Ghost lowered his blade slightly, his breaths uneven. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," I said, though my legs felt weak and my chest still tight. "What was that?"

Ghost shook his head, jaw clenched. "I don't know. But I don't think it's the last we'll see of it."

The silence that followed was heavier, thick with unseen eyes. My pulse raced, my body trembling as I forced myself to keep moving. Ghost stayed close, his blade lowered but ready, his presence grounding me against the chaos pressing in.

The path ahead wasn't jagged stone anymore—it was unnervingly smooth, precision-carved as though crafted for a purpose. The faint glow of reflected starlight was gone, swallowed by the void, leaving only oppressive darkness and the faint echo of footsteps.

"Do you think it's waiting for us?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Ghost didn't answer immediately, his focus unwavering. "If it is," he said eventually, "it won't catch us off guard."

I nodded, but the knot in my chest tightened further. The fjord felt alive, suffocating in its presence. Every step forward was a challenge, a dare from the darkness itself.

The hum returned—faint at first, then steadily rising until it vibrated through my bones. I winced, pressing my palms to my temples as the sound cut through my thoughts like jagged glass.

"Daggs." Ghost's voice was firm, cutting through the noise. "Focus on me. Don't let it pull you under."

"Daggs," Ghost repeated, louder now. He stepped closer, and before I could retreat further into the whispers, his hands were on my cheeks, warm and grounding. "Stay with me," he said, his voice steady and unwavering.

The touch startled me, cutting through the haze with sharp clarity. His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and steady, and the panic twisting in my chest eased. I nodded slowly, my breathing uneven but steadier.

"I'm here," I said, my voice trembling but firm enough. Without thinking, I leaned forward, resting my forehead lightly against Ghost's shoulder. The motion was instinctive, the warmth of his presence the only anchor against the crushing void.

Ghost tensed for an instant before his posture softened. His hands remained steady, his tone quieter now. "Good. Let's keep it that way."

We moved forward together, the path narrowing into a tunnel of black stone. The walls pulsed faintly, almost as if they were alive, and the air grew colder with each step. Silence pressed down on us, broken only by the faint echo of our footsteps.

Then, faintly, I heard it—a voice, distant but familiar. It wasn't Ghost's, and it wasn't the whispers of the fjord. It was Cain.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, glancing at Ghost.

He frowned, tilting his head. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "It's him."

Cain's voice grew louder, sharp and commanding, echoing through the tunnel like a beacon. Even as the weight of the fjord tried to hold us back, it drew us forward. My pace quickened, my heart racing as Cain's silhouette appeared at the tunnel's end.

But something was wrong. Cain wasn't alone.

His figure sharpened against the void, stark and steady. But beside him, another figure flickered into focus—a pale, shifting outline similar to the one Ghost and I had faced. This one was sharper, more defined. Its faint light pulsed as it hovered near Cain's shoulder.

Ghost cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on his blade. He stopped abruptly. "Daggs," he said quietly, his tone sharp. "Stay close."

I nodded, my pulse pounding as the fjord's oppressive hum surged again, vibrating through my skull and blurring the edges of my vision. Cain remained unfazed by the figure beside him. If anything, he seemed too calm, his expression unreadable as he gazed at us.

"You found your way here," Cain said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, we did," Ghost muttered, his tone edged with sarcasm. "Thanks for the warm welcome."

Cain ignored him, his focus shifting to me. "The fjord has tested you," he said, his voice cold. "But this is where the real trial begins."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as the flickering figure moved closer to Cain. Its light pulsed faintly, its blurred features forming a suggestion of a face—hollow eyes, a twisted mouth. The whispers returned, threading through my thoughts like poison, insistent and inescapable.

"You need to keep your guard up," Cain said sharply, his gaze flicking to the figure. "It's already found the cracks in your armor."

"What is that thing?" I asked, my voice trembling.

For the first time, Cain's calm demeanor faltered, an edge of unease breaking through before he buried it. "A fragment," he said finally. "A piece of the fjord's mind."

"Great," Ghost muttered, his grip tightening on his blade. "So now the fjord's got a brain. What's next?"

Cain didn't answer. His focus shifted back to the flickering figure. The fjord's hum surged again, sharper this time, vibrating through the stone beneath us. My knees buckled, but Ghost caught my arm, his grip steady and grounding.

"Daggs, focus," he said quietly. "We're not done yet."

The flicker's outline grew brighter, harsher, its hollow eyes locking onto mine. The whispers grew louder, clawing at my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breathing uneven as I forced them out.

Cain's voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. "You need to confront it. If you don't, it will consume you."

The weight of his words settled on my chest, heavier than the fjord's suffocating air. I glanced at Ghost, his expression sharp but steady, his grip firm on my arm.

"You've got this," he said, his tone softer now. "I'm right here."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I turned to face the flickering figure. My pulse raced and my legs trembled, but I stood tall. The whispers clawed at the edges of my mind, but I wouldn't let them break me.

"Let's end this," I said, my voice firmer than I expected.

You don't belong here. You'll only fail. They'll leave you behind. The voice said.

I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to steady as I anchored myself to Ghost's presence. His steady gaze and firm grip on my arm felt like a lifeline, pulling me back from the chaos threatening to engulf me.

Cain's voice cut through the tension, sharp and unyielding. "It's feeding on your fear. You need to face it, or it will consume you."

The weight of his words settled on my chest, heavier than the fjord's air. My heart raced, legs trembling, but I took a step forward, locking my gaze on the flicker. The whispers grew louder—cruel, insistent—but I didn't let them stop me.

Ghost's voice came, quiet but firm. "I've got your back, Daggs. You're not alone."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I stepped closer. The ground beneath me shifted, unstable, but I kept moving. My breathing was uneven, my chest tight, but I refused to let the fjord break me.

The flickering figure shifted, its form rippling like smoke and light. Its hollow eyes glowed faintly as the whispers coalesced into a single, cutting voice: You don't belong here.

"I do," I said, my voice trembling but steady enough. "I've come too far to turn back. You don't control me," I said, louder this time. The words felt heavy, each one slicing through the oppressive air like a blade. "You don't decide who I am or what I'm capable of."

The flicker pulsed violently, its form rippling as the whispers fractured. The fjord's oppressive hum surged one last time before collapsing into silence. The figure dissolved into a faint glow, which faded into the void.

I staggered back, my breathing ragged as the tension eased. Before I could fall, Ghost was there, his arms wrapping around me in one fluid motion. His hold was firm and steady, shielding me from the lingering weight of the fjord's presence.

"You did it," he said quietly, relief threading through his voice. "You're okay."

I nodded weakly, my forehead brushing his shoulder as I caught my breath. "Yeah," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "I think I did."

Ghost held on a moment longer before stepping back, his hands steady on my arms as he studied me. "You're stronger than you think, Daggs."

I managed a faint smile, though my legs still felt like they might give out. "Thanks," I murmured.

"You did it," he said quietly, relief threading through his voice.

Cain stepped forward, his gaze sharp as he studied the dissipating void. "It's over," he said, finality in his tone. "The fjord has nothing left to throw at us."

I nodded weakly, resting my forehead briefly against Ghost's shoulder. "We made it," I murmured, barely audible but filled with quiet triumph.

Ghost tightened his hold briefly before stepping back, his hands steady on my arms as he offered a faint smile. "Told you we've got this."

The oppressive silence of the fjord lifted, replaced by something lighter—almost hopeful. The jagged path shimmered faintly, the darkness fading as we took our first steps toward freedom. But even as the void dissolved, the horizon revealed a new sight: a field of jagged bones scattered across a cold, gray expanse.

The fjord's darkness dissolved gradually into a gray haze that clung like mist. The oppressive hum was gone, replaced by an unsettling silence stretching endlessly in all directions. My legs felt heavy, each step forward an effort. But the suffocating weight that crushed my chest in the fjord lifted—replaced by something colder.

Ghost walked beside me, blade still in hand, gaze sharp as he scanned the shifting haze. Cain led the way, his movements purposeful but slower than before, as if even he wasn't immune to the fjord's lingering toll.

"What is this place?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Cain didn't answer immediately. He stopped at the edge of the mist, his gaze fixed on the distance. "Skallheimin," he said finally, his voice low but weighted. "The grave of those who came before."

I followed his gaze, breath catching as the mist parted to reveal a vast expanse of bone-white ground. Jagged fragments jutted from the earth, scattered like remnants of a long-forgotten battle. The silence here was oppressive—not heavy like the fjord, but eerie, as though the world held its breath.

Ghost muttered a curse under his breath, his grip tightening on his blade as we stepped onto the expanse. The ground beneath our feet was brittle, each step sending faint cracks echoing. My stomach twisted at the sight of fragmented bones beneath the surface—some small, others impossibly large.

"This isn't just a grave," Ghost said quietly, his voice tight. "It's a warning."

Cain's gaze stayed ahead, his expression unreadable. "It's both," he said. "If you're not careful, it'll become your grave too."

Cold air bit at my skin as we ventured deeper into the expanse, mist swirling faintly around us. Jagged spires loomed ahead, piercing the gray sky like skeletal fingers. Unease settled in my chest, heavier with each step, a weight I couldn't shake.

Ghost stepped closer, his presence steadying as the silence pressed against us. "Stick together," he said, voice low but firm. "This place doesn't feel right."

He wasn't wrong. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to run, but I forced myself forward. The fjord had been suffocating, crushing in its darkness. This was different. It was hollow, abandoned—as if life had never existed here at all.

At the base of a jagged spire, Cain stopped abruptly, scanning the horizon. "This is where we part ways," he said, voice calm but final.

"What?" My chest tightened.

Cain turned to face us, unreadable. "You survived the fjord, but Skallheimin is a different kind of trial. You'll have to navigate it on your own."

My stomach twisted, panic bubbling, but Ghost stepped forward, sharp and unwavering. "You can't just leave us here."

Cain's gaze hardened, though something flickered beneath it—something I couldn't name. "You don't need me anymore," he said simply. "This is your path now."

Before we could argue, Cain turned and walked into the mist, vanishing as quickly as he'd appeared. I stared after him, chest tight, but Ghost's steady hand on my arm pulled me back.

"We'll figure it out," he said quietly. "We've made it this far. We're not stopping now."

I swallowed hard and turned toward the bone-strewn expanse ahead. The jagged spires loomed like sentinels, piercing the gray sky. The path was uncertain, but as Ghost's hand lingered on my arm, a flicker of resolve steadied me.

Skallheimin was waiting.