Lysandra lay stiff on the stone ground, staring into the darkness above. The fire crackled softly beside her, casting flickering shadows across the ruins. The prince slept lightly, his sword still gripped in his hand. But she couldn't sleep.
Not with the whispers curling through the air.
Not with the feeling of something watching from below.
She sat up slowly, listening. The ruins breathed. It was a quiet thing, a pulse deep beneath the stone, a presence pressing against her skin like a whispered secret.
Then—
Lysandra.
The voice was softer this time, nearly lost beneath the wind.
She turned sharply, scanning the dark ruins around her.
Nothing.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She could leave it alone. Ignore it. Pretend she hadn't heard.
But her legs moved before she could think.
She stood, careful not to make a sound, and stepped away from the fire. The ruins stretched before her, skeletal remains of an ancient kingdom swallowed by time. Vines and moss curled around fallen pillars. The air smelled of damp earth and something old. Something forgotten.
A breeze stirred the leaves.
Come.
The whisper curled around her like smoke.
Lysandra swallowed. She wasn't stupid. Every instinct screamed at her to wake the prince, to turn back, to run.
But the ruins called, and she had never been the kind of person to look away from the unknown.
She stepped forward.
The deeper she walked into the ruins, the heavier the air became. It pressed against her lungs, thick with unseen weight. Every step felt like walking through water.
The whisper came again. Closer.
Then, she saw it.
A crack in the stone floor.
It wasn't natural. The jagged edges glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. Something was beneath it.
Lysandra knelt. The stone was cool under her fingertips. A rush of energy thrummed against her palm. Her cursed mark burned.
She inhaled sharply.
This wasn't just a ruin.
It was a seal.
A prison.
And something on the other side was waiting.
Help me.
Lysandra's breath hitched. The voice was different this time. Stronger. Clearer. Desperate.
A forgotten god.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. This was a terrible idea. The worst idea.
But the whisper curled around her like a plea, pulling her deeper, asking for something she didn't understand.
Then—
A hand gripped her shoulder.
She gasped, jerking back.
The prince.
His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes sharp with warning. "Step away from it."
Lysandra hesitated. "It's—"
"I know what it is." His voice was colder than before. "And I know what's inside."
She swallowed, glancing back at the glowing crack in the stone. "It's alive."
The prince's grip tightened slightly. "Exactly."
Lysandra looked up at him, searching his face. He wasn't just wary—he was afraid. And that terrified her more than anything.
"What's down there?" she asked.
The prince didn't answer immediately. Then, he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The god who cursed my family."
Lysandra froze.
Her mind spun. She turned back to the crack, heart hammering against her ribs.
The whispers. The hum beneath the earth. The unnatural pulse in the ruins.
This wasn't just some forgotten god.
It was the one responsible for everything.
And it was calling her.
The prince pulled her back forcefully, his grip unrelenting. "We leave. Now."
"But—"
He didn't let her argue. "That god is not a victim, Lysandra. It's a monster."
She clenched her jaw, glancing back at the crack one last time. The glow pulsed again, as if reacting to her presence. To her curse.
She had too many questions. But the prince was already turning away, his posture tense.
Reluctantly, she followed.
But as she stepped away, the voice came again.
Not a monster. A prisoner.
Lysandra's stomach twisted.
For the first time, she wasn't sure what to believe.
And that terrified her more than anything.