The road to the Forgotten Temple was no road at all. It was a collection of jagged paths and treacherous footholds, worn into the mountainside by time and weather, where nature itself seemed to fight back against any sign of life. The deeper they traveled into the mountains, the stranger the world grew. Trees twisted like ancient serpents, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. The air thickened with a strange, suffocating energy, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
Kaelen could feel the Ember pulsing against his chest, its heat steady and insistent, a constant reminder of the force he was bound to. Aelric, walking ahead with his usual silent confidence, seemed unaffected by the growing strangeness. His eyes remained sharp, scanning their surroundings with practiced ease. But Kaelen could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight frown that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Even he felt the weight of whatever was watching them from the depths of the mountains.
They had passed through ravines and narrow gorges, climbing higher into the hills. The trees began to thin, giving way to rocky cliffs and barren terrain. The sky above, once a cold, muted grey, had darkened to an inky black, as though the heavens themselves were retreating into some distant void. The wind carried with it an unnatural chill, and Kaelen's breath puffed out in front of him, visible in the eerie silence.
They had been walking for hours without a word. Kaelen's mind churned with thoughts of what had happened at the Whispering Stones. The vision he'd experienced—those voices, the figure in the dark robe—kept playing over and over in his head. Each time he closed his eyes, the whispering began again, distant but persistent.
"Kaelen…" The voice was so faint, he could hardly tell if it was real or just his imagination. He had tried to ignore it, but it followed him like a shadow, a constant reminder of the fire burning within him. It was a weight he could never escape.
Suddenly, Aelric stopped in his tracks, his hand lifting to signal Kaelen to do the same.
"What is it?" Kaelen asked, instinctively reaching for his sword. His pulse quickened.
Aelric didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the horizon, his face tense with concentration. Then, without turning to Kaelen, he muttered, "Do you feel that?"
Kaelen stiffened. The air had changed. The usual wind that had tugged at his cloak was gone, replaced by an oppressive stillness. Even the sound of their footsteps seemed to disappear, swallowed by the mountains. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus.
"Yes," Kaelen said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... colder."
"Not just colder," Aelric said. "It's something else. It feels wrong."
Kaelen nodded, his gaze falling on the ground beneath them. The stones were no longer smooth and natural but jagged and sharp, as though the earth itself had been torn apart. It was an unnatural shift in the landscape, like they were walking through a wound in the world.
They continued forward cautiously, Aelric leading the way, his steps measured and slow. After a few more moments, they came upon a narrow gorge, the rocks on either side rising sharply. At the heart of the gorge, there was a cluster of stones—massive slabs of granite arranged in a perfect circle, their surfaces smooth and dark, covered in faint glowing runes. The stones emitted a soft, eerie hum, almost like a heartbeat.
Kaelen's breath caught in his throat. He felt it again, the pulse of the Ember in his chest. It was as if the stones were calling to him.
"What are these?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Aelric's face was grim as he eyed the stones. "The Whispering Stones."
"Whispering Stones?" Kaelen repeated. "What do they do?"
"They speak," Aelric said, his voice low. "Or at least, that's what the legends say. But they don't speak to just anyone. Only to those who carry the Ember."
Kaelen looked at the stones more closely, feeling the weight of their presence. They weren't just stones. They were ancient, older than any structure or monument Kaelen had ever seen. They felt like they were alive. "How do you know this?"
Aelric's eyes hardened, his gaze narrowing. "I've heard stories. Some say these stones are used to communicate with the dead. Others say they're used to channel power—power older than the gods."
Kaelen frowned, taking a cautious step closer to the circle of stones. "Are they dangerous?"
Aelric hesitated, then nodded. "Very. And not just because of the power they hold. These stones are linked to the Ember. To you."
Before Kaelen could respond, he heard it—a faint whisper, barely audible over the wind. It was soft at first, like the rustling of leaves, but it grew clearer, more insistent.
"Kaelen…"
His heart skipped a beat, and his hand instinctively moved to the Ember beneath his tunic. It throbbed, hot against his skin, as if it were alive and reacting to the voice.
"Come closer…" the voice whispered again, and this time, it was unmistakable. The voice was familiar, though Kaelen couldn't place it.
Aelric's voice snapped him back to reality. "Don't touch them. These stones are dangerous. They've driven men mad before."
But it was too late. Kaelen couldn't resist. He stepped forward, drawn to the stones. The air around him seemed to grow colder still, and the ground beneath his feet felt like it was shifting, becoming less stable. He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the nearest stone.
The moment his skin made contact, the world around him blurred. The ground trembled, and the air grew thick with a crackling energy. The pulse of the Ember in his chest flared, and suddenly, Kaelen was no longer standing in the gorge.
He was somewhere else.
The world around him was black, an endless void filled with swirling lights. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above. Only darkness and stars, countless stars, twinkling like distant, dying embers.
And before him, a figure stood. Tall and cloaked in shadows, its form flickered in and out of existence like a mirage. Kaelen felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, as though he had seen this figure before, though he couldn't place it. The air was charged with power, and Kaelen's heartbeat echoed in the silence.
"Kaelen of Thornmere," the figure intoned, its voice a chorus of countless voices, deep and reverberating. "You are the last of your line. The last bearer of the Ember. Do you understand what you have unleashed?"
Kaelen swallowed, his throat dry. "I—I didn't choose this."
"You never do," the figure said, its voice a mix of sadness and inevitability. "The Ember chooses those who are bound to it. And when the Ember burns, it consumes everything."
"I don't know what to do," Kaelen whispered, feeling the weight of his words in the emptiness.
The figure's form shifted, its shadows swirling like smoke. "There is no easy answer. Only the path of fire. Only the choice that will define everything."
Suddenly, the figure raised its hand, and Kaelen was flooded with images—visions of cities burning, of people screaming, of kingdoms crumbling. And in the center of it all, the Ember, burning brighter and hotter than ever before, consumed everything in its path.
Kaelen recoiled, his hand instinctively clutching at his chest, where the Ember pulsed in time with the visions.
"Do you see it?" the figure asked, its voice cold. "The fire that will consume all? Can you extinguish it, or will you let it burn the world to ash?"
Kaelen opened his mouth to speak, but the vision faded before he could answer. The world around him twisted, the stars dimming, and he was yanked back into the gorge, his heart pounding in his chest.
He staggered back, breathless, and almost fell. The stones were still before him, their runes glowing softly in the dim light.
Aelric was by his side in an instant, his expression a mixture of concern and caution. "What happened? Are you all right?"
Kaelen looked at him, his hands trembling. "I saw something... something terrible. A future where the Ember burns everything."
Aelric's face darkened, and he stepped closer. "It's not a vision, Kaelen. It's a warning."
Kaelen's heart was still racing, and the pulse of the Ember in his chest felt like it was ready to explode. "I don't know how to stop it."
"You won't do it alone," Aelric said, his voice steady, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "But the road ahead... it's going to test us both."
Kaelen nodded, the weight of their journey settling heavily on his shoulders. The Ember was more than a gift or a curse. It was a force of nature, and he was bound to it. Whatever path lay ahead, he knew that his choices would shape the world—for better or for worse.
And the road to the Forgotten Temple had only just begun.