The Weight of the Card

Haise trudged behind Karsen, the dirt path stretching ahead with no end in sight. The forest pressed close on both sides, thick branches twisting overhead, casting shadows across the road. His boots scraped against loose stones, the occasional twig snapping underfoot.

"Where exactly are we going?" Haise asked, his voice already worn from asking the same thing too many times.

Karsen, waving the map with a little too much confidence, barely glanced over his shoulder. "Relax. Got it covered."

"That's not an answer."

Karsen scratched his head, his orange hair a tangled mess that caught bits of leaves as they walked. "It's my first time using a map. Could be worse."

"Are you serious?" Haise's fingers twitched at his side. "Do you even know where we're going?"

Karsen's grin didn't fade. "I'm pretty sure we're going the right way. Probably."

Probably.

Haise bit down the frustration and kept walking.

The deeper they went, the less the sunlight followed. The trees thickened, their roots clawing through the dirt like the ground was trying to pull them back. Somewhere ahead, a break in the path appeared, a wide opening, half-hidden by hanging vines.

Karsen slowed, pushing aside a clump of leaves. Behind them, the entrance to something old yawned wide. A stone frame, cracked and leaning, held a half-rusted metal door that hung crooked on its hinges.

"Here. This is the spot," Karsen said, sounding way too casual about finding what looked like the front door to a dungeon.

Haise stopped. "This is it? Why would supplies be in there?"

Karsen shrugged, brushing dirt off the map. "Beats me."

Haise's jaw tightened. "See, this is why people do briefings. So we don't wander into places like this without knowing anything."

"Too late to turn back now." Karsen pressed both hands against the door and shoved. Metal screeched, the sound cutting through the stillness like a warning. The door gave way slowly, dragging a scrape through the stone until the gap was wide enough to slip through.

Inside, the air changed. Damp, stale, thick with the weight of something that hadn't been disturbed in a long time. The walls were a mix of jagged stone and crumbling black bricks, stitched together like the place couldn't decide whether it was natural or built.

Karsen fumbled with a lantern, striking the flint until the soft flame caught. The dim light painted shaky outlines across the walls.

"Guess we follow the path," Karsen said, his voice echoing low through the tunnel.

They pressed deeper, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dirt that had settled over the stone. Haise's grip tightened on the sword at his side, his nerves gnawing at him the further they went.

If supplies were dropped by a caravan, there should've been bodies. Blood. Something. Yet the halls stayed eerily clean. Nothing. No broken crates, no signs of a fight.

Nothing but the smell of rot that clung faintly to the edges of the place.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a wide chamber, too big to make sense, with walls disappearing into the dark. At the center, a massive hole caved deep into the ground, its edges chipped and loose.

Around it, smaller tunnel mouths carved into the stone.

Haise approached the edge, peering over. His breath caught.

Down below, a wrecked caravan lay in pieces, its wooden frame shattered, crates splintered open and scattered. No signs of life. No signs of the people who had driven it.

"How the hell did they even fall down there?" Haise muttered.

Karsen pulled a rope from his pack, anchoring it to a jagged spike of rock nearby. "Doesn't matter now. Come on."

The climb wasn't too bad. The rope held steady, and the stone gave enough footing to make the descent awkward but manageable. The moment Haise's boots touched the ground, his unease sank deeper into his gut.

This was wrong.

The caravan looked abandoned, but it wasn't old enough to explain the complete lack of anything human. No corpses, no blood, not even scraps of cloth.

Haise moved toward the wreck, his eyes scanning the overturned crates, searching for something, anything that would tell him what happened.

"You feel that?" Karsen's voice cracked behind him.

Haise paused, turning slightly. "Feel what?"

"Something's off. Like… like we're not alone."

Haise straightened, his hand tightening around the sword's grip. "No. I don't feel anything."

He crouched near one of the crates, prying it open, but found nothing useful. Empty. Stripped clean.

His fingers brushed the edge, and something sharp snagged his skin. He winced, pulling back.

Something was wrong.

His head jerked up, but before he could process what, Karsen's voice shot through the chamber.

"Run! Rope, now!"

Haise didn't think. He sprinted, his boots thudding against the dirt, Karsen just behind him. They were halfway to the rope when a glint of silver shot from one of the side tunnels.

The rope snapped.

Haise skidded to a stop, his chest slamming against the weight of his breath. The rope's end whipped against the dirt, useless now.

Then came the sound.

Steps. Dozens. Fast. Sharp.

From the tunnel ahead, a swarm emerged. Goblins. At least, Haise thought they were supposed to be goblins. Their skin was green, sure, but that's where the similarity stopped.

They were tall. Thicker. Their muscles rippled under crude scraps of armor. Human-shaped, but their faces, elongated noses, ears that curled too sharp, jaws too wide.

No words. No growls. Just the sound of their charge and the glint of their mangled weapons.

Karsen didn't wait. He lunged, his blade flashing as he caught one of the goblins by the wrist, twisting hard enough to snap the joint. His sword drove into another's skull, the body crumpling instantly.

Another rushed in, stabbing low. Karsen grunted, jerking his leg back, but not fast enough. The goblin's blade caught his foot, driving deep.

Haise stepped forward, his sword raised, but the world shattered.

Everything froze.

The noise, the movement, even the dust that had been kicked into the air, all hung in place, silent, weightless.

His body wouldn't move. Only his eyes flicked, darting across the suspended scene.

"What the hell is this?" Haise whispered, though he didn't even know if his mouth had really moved.

From the dark, a figure stepped into the frozen space. The same man. Featureless, his form only half-solid, but instantly familiar.

"You're in quite a situation," the man said, his voice calm, almost amused.

Haise's breath caught, memories from their last meeting sparking in the back of his mind.

The man walked past him, stopping near Karsen, who stood frozen in mid-swing, blood hanging in the air like strands of glass.

"You could use this to your advantage," the man said.

Haise's throat tightened. "How?"

A flick of the man's wrist, and the system window shimmered above his palm. A card emerged from the light, clean and sharp, its edges glowing faintly.

"A special ability," the man said. "Chosen for you."

The card drifted toward Haise, hovering in the air like it was waiting to be taken. "This is a storage unit."

Haise's stomach turned. "Why tell me this now?"

The man didn't bother answering. He traced the card's edges slowly. "It stores a person's soul. It's kind of like necromancy in a way, but… different."

Haise's heart thudded.

"After someone dies, you can store them in the card. They come back. Not fully alive, but… tethered. They can't attack you, can't stray far. They won't be mindless, though. Not yet. With time, you could learn to control the card itself. Bend its rules. Shape what's inside."

Haise's grip shook. "So I just… chain people to me?"

The man stepped closer. "It's not a chain. It's ownership. They're yours. They can't leave. You inherit them. You can learn from them. Even gods, if you're bold enough."

His hand swept toward the goblins. "With enough time, you could have a whole deck of gods at your command. Or you die here. Your choice."

Haise's stomach soured. "What do I need to do?"

The man's eyes, or the suggestion of them, turned to Karsen.

"Let him die."

Haise's chest hollowed.

"What?!"

"Hide. Goblins are terrible at spotting people who know how to stay out of sight. That's why they only noticed him. Let them kill him. Take his card. It's your first step forward."

Haise's legs refused to move. His thoughts spiraled.

That was the only option?

The man's voice drifted. "Time's up. Good luck."

The world slammed back into motion.

Haise's heart hammered against his ribs.

Karsen stumbled, the goblins pressing in.

Run.

That's what the man said.

Run.

His hand clenched around the sword's grip.

Was that really the only path?