Echoes of the Fallen

The gray sky stretched endlessly, heavy like a storm that never came.

Vael moved through the dead forest. Each step sank into cold, black soil. The trees were burned from the inside out. Shadows hanging from the branches like broken limbs, swaying in air.

The mark on his chest pulsed. It wasn't just a scar anymore. It felt alive. Hungry.

The crown whispered again, softer than before.They will come for you.

He already knew.

Ahead, the forest gave way to a broken path of stone. Faded statues lined it—warriors, kings, forgotten gods. All shattered the same way: faces broken, arms outstretched as if begging for something that never came.

At the path's end stood an archway—half collapsed, covered in symbols Vael couldn't read.But the crown… it remembered.

This was once sacred.

Vael scoffed. "Not anymore."

As he stepped through, the air shifted. Cold. Heavy. Ancient.

The ground trembled beneath his feet.

Then they came—dragging out from the shadows.

Figures in rusted armor. Faces hidden behind cracked helms. Their blades—once powerful relics—scraped across the stone, leaving long scars in their wake.

Their eyes glowed faint silver.

Echo Wielders.

Or atleast what was left of them.

Vael gripped his sword. Shadows coiled around it. The crown stirred in his mind.

They were chosen… like you.

The first one rushed him.

Vael met it with a sharp swing—cutting straight through the rusted armour. No blood. Only dust.

Another came. Then two more. Fast, broken, mindless.

He moved on instinct. Shadows lashed out. Blades cut deep. But the more he killed, the more the mark on his chest throbbed, like it was feeding, growing.

His side burned as a spear grazed him. Black leaked from the wound.

"Damn it."

The crown's voice sharpened."Let me in. You need more."

Vael hesitated.

But just for a moment.

Then he let go.

The shadows exploded from him—wild, brutal, alive. The fallen were torn apart, their echoes devoured. Power surged through him like fire.

But it came with a cost.

The mark spread, black veins crawling up his neck.

And when the last echo crumbled to dust, silence fell like a weight.

Vael stood alone.

Breathing hard.

Hands shaking.

The hunger didn't fade. It only deepened.

And far away—he felt it.

Something watching.

Waiting.

The crown pulsed again."You are not the first to fall. But you may be the last."

Vael stared ahead.

The path wasn't about survival anymore.

It was war.