The Shardlands were no place for the living.
A barren wasteland, stretching for miles beyond the borders of known civilization, where the fabric of reality itself tore and shattered. The sky above was a sickly purple, streaked with veins of unnatural silver. It was a place where stars fell not from the heavens, but from the ground—shards of once-proud constellations that now lay scattered in jagged, broken fragments, reflecting a world undone. The air was thick, stifling, charged with the magic of forgotten times. The winds here didn't blow—they screamed, like souls caught between life and death.
Mary stood at the edge of the Shardlands, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The cold wind bit at her exposed skin, but it wasn't the chill that made her heart race—it was the weight of what lay beyond. This was no ordinary land. This was a place where even the laws of nature faltered. It was as if the Shardlands were a scar on the world itself, a wound that never healed, and only the most reckless—or desperate—dared to venture into its depths.
She could feel the pull of the place, the way the magic of the land resonated with her own blood. It was as though it recognized her, as if she was something of its own making. The monolith had said she was a Key—her bloodline threaded with the ancient forces that had shaped the Shardlands and all the horrors within. And it was here, among these twisted remnants of a lost world, that she would find the weapon capable of stopping Hollowlight. If she survived long enough to wield it.
Behind her, Lela and Loosie stood, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Loosie's hand rested lightly on her sword hilt, her youthful face set in a grim line. Despite her size, she exuded an air of quiet strength. Lela, on the other hand, was tense, her eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant. She wore the black leather armor with crimson accents she'd crafted in the forge. Her spear was ready, the edge of its blade gleaming in the strange, twilight glow that surrounded them.
"We don't have much time," Mary said, her voice steady but laced with an urgency she couldn't fully hide. "We have to move quickly. The Sleepless Kin don't wait for anyone."
Lela nodded, her eyes flicking to the distance. "How do we even know where to go?"
Mary turned her gaze to the center of the Shardlands, her eyes narrowing. "The monolith said the weapon was hidden deep within the land, guarded by the Sleepless Kin. And I know they're not just mythical creatures—they are remnants, like me. They've lived here since before the world knew how to lie."
"Remnants," Loosie repeated, her tone skeptical. "So, they're like—what? Ghosts?"
Mary hesitated. "Not exactly. The Sleepless Kin are the echoes of ancient beings who were once part of the fabric of reality, before everything started to break. They are the last pieces of the old world. And they are protectors—keepers of the weapon I need."
"But can we trust them?" Lela asked, raising an eyebrow. "If they've guarded this weapon for centuries, won't they try to stop us?"
"I don't know," Mary admitted. "But we don't have a choice. If I'm right, the weapon is the only thing that can stop Hollowlight, and he's already gathering strength. We'll have to face whatever's in our way."
The wind howled louder, tugging at their clothes, and a strange tension hung in the air. It was as if the land itself was alive, waiting for something to awaken.
Without another word, Mary stepped forward, her boots crunching on the rocky ground as she moved toward the Shardlands' heart. Lela and Loosie followed closely behind, their eyes constantly scanning the barren landscape.
As they ventured deeper into the Shardlands, the world around them seemed to shift. The ground beneath their feet grew more uneven, the air more oppressive. Twisted, shard-like formations rose from the earth, some jagged and sharp, others smooth and sleek, but all pulsing with an eerie, unnatural glow. The remnants of broken stars embedded in the ground reflected the sickly purple sky above, creating a landscape that felt more like a dream than reality.
Mary's heart raced as the feeling of being watched intensified. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound too loud, too sharp. She could feel the land reaching out to her, calling to her, whispering to her blood, urging her forward.
"Stay close," she muttered to her companions, her voice barely audible above the howling wind.
Loosie, usually the more lighthearted of the group, kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, eyes darting to the shadows. "I don't like this," she murmured. "It feels... wrong."
"It's supposed to feel wrong," Mary said grimly. "This place isn't meant for the living."
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the air—a sharp, cracking sound that reverberated like thunder. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the air seemed to shift with the sound of something massive moving in the distance.
Mary's blood ran cold. "They've found us."
From the shadows of the Shardlands, figures began to emerge. At first, they were little more than silhouettes, their forms indistinct and shifting. But as they drew closer, Mary's eyes sharpened, and she saw them for what they truly were.
The Sleepless Kin.
They were tall, impossibly tall, their bodies thin and elongated, like shadows of human forms. Their skin was a pale, almost translucent gray, and their faces were blank—featureless masks, with deep, hollow eyes that seemed to reflect the void itself. They moved without sound, gliding across the ground, their presence overwhelming. There were dozens of them, maybe more, filling the air with a sense of foreboding that threatened to crush the very breath from Mary's chest.
"Stay back," Lela warned, her voice low and steady as she stepped in front of Loosie, the shaft of her spear gripped tightly in her hands.
But Mary held up a hand. "No. We don't need to fight them. Not yet."
The lead figure of the Sleepless Kin stepped forward, its gaze locked onto Mary. It raised one long, bony hand and pointed a finger at her, a soundless whisper emanating from its hollow mouth.
"You," it intoned, its voice an unsettling combination of distant echoes and a thousand whispers. "You are the Key."
Mary took a step forward, meeting its gaze without fear. "I need the weapon," she said, her voice unwavering. "I need to stop Hollowlight. The world is dying."
The Sleepless Kin tilted its head, its empty eyes narrowing. "The weapon will not be given easily. It is not a tool for the living."
Mary's eyes flashed with resolve. "I don't care. I will do whatever it takes."
The Kin's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if weighing her words. Then, slowly, it stepped back, raising its hand in a slow, deliberate gesture.
"The weapon lies within," it said, its voice like the crackling of dead leaves. "But to claim it... you must face the price."
Before Mary could respond, the ground beneath their feet cracked open, a deep chasm forming, swallowing the light and casting them into darkness.