Chapter 21: Whispers in the Dark
The night was eerily silent.
Tara stood at the edge of the village, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the hilt of her sword. The battle was over. The gods were gone. Yet the weight on her shoulders had not lifted. If anything, it had grown heavier.
Emrick had retired to rest, but sleep refused to claim her. There was something out there—something she couldn't name, but could feel. The emptiness left behind by the gods wasn't just a void; it was an invitation. And something had answered.
A chill crawled down her spine. The wind carried whispers, too faint to be words, but strong enough to make her skin prickle. She turned sharply, scanning the darkness beyond the village. The ruins of the battlefield lay still, but she swore she saw movement among the shadows.
"Tara."
She flinched, her hand flying to her weapon. But it was only Kael, his face half-lit by the dying embers of the village fires.
"You should be resting," he said, his voice hushed.
"I can't," she admitted. "Something isn't right."
Kael studied her for a moment before nodding. "I feel it too. Like the world is… waiting for something."
Tara exhaled, relieved that she wasn't alone in sensing the unease. "Do you think we were wrong? Destroying the gods?"
Kael hesitated. "I think we did what had to be done. But that doesn't mean there won't be consequences."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying with it the unmistakable echo of laughter—not joyous, but hollow, distant, and chilling. Tara's blood ran cold.
She turned to Kael, but his expression told her he'd heard it too.
"Where did that come from?" he whispered.
Tara didn't answer. Instead, she took a cautious step forward, her senses sharpening. The air felt thick, charged with something unnatural. The whispers grew louder, the laughter fading into fragmented voices, overlapping, twisting, calling her name.
Then, from the darkness, something shifted.
A figure emerged, shrouded in tattered robes that seemed to flicker like smoke. Its face was obscured, its presence wrong in a way Tara couldn't define. It didn't feel mortal. It didn't feel divine. It felt… old.
"Tara," it rasped. "You think you have freed the world. But all you have done is unshackled something far worse."
Tara tightened her grip on her sword, her pulse thundering. "Who are you?"
The figure took a slow step closer. "A shadow of what was. A harbinger of what comes. The gods were never the true rulers of this world. They were merely its wardens."
Cold fear coiled in Tara's stomach. "Wardens… of what?"
The figure lifted its head slightly, just enough for her to glimpse the glint of something terrible behind the shroud of darkness.
"The thing they feared most."
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure melted into the night, leaving only the whispers lingering on the wind.
Kael swallowed hard. "Tara… what did we just awaken?"
Tara stared into the abyss beyond the village, her heart pounding.
She didn't know.
But she feared she was about to find out.