The Obelisk of Shadows

Elias felt a strange pull as they approached, the same kind of pull he’d felt from the harp. It wasn’t as overwhelming, but it was enough to make him uneasy.

“This is it,” Joran said, stopping a few feet from the base of the obelisk. “The first marker. The shadows will point us toward the next waypoint, but we’ll need to wait for the right angle.”

“What do we do until then?” Alina asked, scanning their surroundings.

“Rest,” Joran said. “We’ll need our strength for what comes next.”

Elias wasn’t sure rest was an option. The obelisk’s presence was oppressive, its silent song weaving through his thoughts like a whisper. He walked closer to it, running his fingers over the carved runes. They were warm to the touch, almost pulsing with energy.

“What are you doing?” Alina’s voice was sharp, pulling him back to reality.

“I…” Elias hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s… familiar.”

“Step back,” Joran said firmly. “The obelisk isn’t safe to touch. It’s tied to the same magic as the harp. It could awaken something you’re not ready for.”

Reluctantly, Elias obeyed, retreating to sit in the shade of the towering stone.

As the sun shifted, the obelisk’s shadow began to stretch, pointing toward the east.

“There,” Joran said, rising to his feet. “That’s our path.”

But as they prepared to leave, the air around them seemed to shift. The heat became suffocating, and the sand began to ripple unnaturally.

“Something’s wrong,” Alina said, drawing her dagger.

Before Elias could respond, the shadows around the obelisk began to writhe, twisting into shapes that defied logic. They rose from the ground, forming figures with hollow eyes and clawed hands.

“Wraiths,” Joran said, his voice tight. “They’re guardians of the obelisk. Stay close and don’t let them surround you.”

The first wraith lunged at Elias, its claws slicing through the air. He barely dodged, stumbling back and drawing his sword. The blade felt heavy in his hands, but he gripped it tightly, focusing on the enemy before him.

Alina was a blur of motion, her dagger flashing as she fought off two wraiths at once. Joran muttered under his breath, his hands glowing with faint light as he drew sigils in the air.

The harp’s melody surged In Elias’s mind, growing louder with each passing second. It wasn’t just a sound anymore—it was a command, urging him to act.

Let me guide you, the voice whispered.

“No,” Elias muttered, shaking his head.

Another wraith charged at him, its claws aimed for his chest. He raised his sword instinctively, the blade glowing faintly as it struck the shadowy creature. The wraith dissolved into smoke with a piercing shriek.

Elias stared at his sword, the glow fading as quickly as it had appeared.

“Elias!” Alina’s shout pulled him back to the fight.

There were too many wraiths, their forms multiplying with every strike. Joran’s sigils held them at bay for a moment, but the creatures were relentless.

“We can’t hold them off forever!” Alina said, her voice strained.

“The obelisk,” Joran said. “We need to use its power to dispel them. But I’ll need time to prepare the ritual.”

“Then we’ll give you time,” Elias said, stepping in front of Joran as another wraith approached.

The battle felt endless, each swing of Elias’s sword taking more effort than the last. The harp’s song grew deafening, its pull nearly unbearable.

Joran’s voice cut through the chaos. “It’s ready! Get to the obelisk—now!”

Elias and Alina retreated toward the obelisk, the wraiths closing in around them. Joran raised his hands, chanting in a language Elias didn’t recognize. The runes on the obelisk flared to life, their light spreading outward in a wave that consumed the wraiths.

When the light faded, the creatures were gone, and the air was still once more.

Elias dropped to his knees, exhaustion washing over him.

“Are you all right?” Alina asked, kneeling beside him.

“I think so,” he said, though his hands still trembled.

Joran approached, his expression grim. “That was only the beginning. The Spire’s wards will grow stronger the closer we get. You need to be ready, Elias. The harp’s power is tied to these places, and it will only grow harder to resist.”

Elias nodded, though he wasn’t sure he believed his own resolve.

As they set off toward the next waypoint, the obelisk’s shadow stretching behind them, Elias couldn’t shake the feeling that the harp’s song had only just begun.

The obelisk was gone, lost to the endless dunes behind them. Each step forward felt heavier, the sand shifting beneath their boots like a living thing trying to drag them down. The wind had turned sharp and unpredictable, sending grains of sand biting against their faces. Elias shielded his eyes, his focus darting between Joran’s tense figure ahead and Alina, who walked beside him with her dagger unsheathed, her wariness plain.

“The next waypoint is close,” Joran said, his voice taut. He stared at the erratic needle of his compass, which spun wildly with no sign of stopping.

“Are you sure about that?” Alina asked, her tone skeptical.

Joran didn’t answer immediately. “The Wastes mess with everything—direction, time, your senses. But the scroll says we’re close. We just need to push forward a little farther.”

Elias glanced around at the barren landscape. The dunes looked identical, stretching endlessly in every direction. The harp’s song tugged at his thoughts like an invisible thread, pulling him away from his companions and into himself. He could almost hear the whispers again, faint and seductive.

“Elias.” Alina’s sharp voice snapped him back to the present.

“What?” he said, shaking his head.

“You were drifting,” she said, studying him with concern. “Stay focused. The Wastes feed on distraction.”

“Right,” he muttered, gripping the strap of the harp tighter.

Hours passed as they trudged onward, the sun crawling higher into the sky. The oppressive heat burned at their energy, and the silence weighed on them all. Just as Elias felt his legs might give out, Joran stopped abruptly.

“There,” he said, pointing.

Elias squinted into the haze. At first, he saw nothing but rippling air, but as they moved closer, a shape emerged—a crumbled ruin jutting out of the sand. It was a cluster of stone columns, each covered in the same glowing runes as the obelisk. They were arranged in a rough circle, and at the center stood a small, raised dais.