Rylan sat in the damp grass, his breath shallow, his body trembling from the sheer force of what he had seen. The visions still lingered in his mind, flashing behind his eyes like echoes of a forgotten nightmare.
He had seen the rise of the Sigil-Bearers. He had seen their fall.
And worse—he had seen something watching.
Something beyond the wars of men and gods. Beyond the Veil itself.
The hooded figure stood over him in silence, waiting. They did not speak, did not ask what he had witnessed. They didn't need to. The weight of knowledge was already pressing down on him, thick as iron chains.
Rylan clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing. The ground beneath him felt unsteady, as if reality itself had shifted. Perhaps it had.
Finally, he looked up at the figure, his voice hoarse.
"...The Sigil-Bearers before me. They were powerful. But they lost themselves."
The figure inclined their head slightly. "Yes."
"They had power beyond imagination. They could reshape reality. And yet..." Rylan swallowed hard. "They failed. They destroyed themselves."
The hooded figure did not answer immediately. When they finally spoke, their voice was softer than before.
"Power without understanding is a blade without a hilt. Wielded recklessly, it cuts the one who holds it."
Rylan exhaled sharply. The visions still whispered to him. The rise of empires, the fall of civilizations. The Sigil-Bearers had walked the path he now tread. Some had reached heights beyond comprehension, yet none had endured.
Their power had been real. Their downfall, inevitable.
But why?
He looked down at his hands. His Sigil still burned faintly upon his skin, the mark of his potential. But was it also a curse?
He had sought strength, but now he wondered—was he only walking the same doomed road as those before him?
The hooded figure watched him in silence, as if waiting for him to ask the right question.
And then, he did.
"The visions," Rylan murmured. "I saw something beyond them. Beyond the Sigil-Bearers. There was something... watching. It saw me."
The air grew colder.
The figure's posture remained unchanged, but Rylan felt the shift in their presence. A heaviness settled between them, an unspoken understanding.
"You are not the first to see," the figure finally said.
Rylan's heart pounded. "What was it?"
The figure tilted their head slightly. "A presence beyond mortal understanding. Some call them the Watchers. Others call them the Forgotten Gods. They exist beyond the Veil, beyond what even the highest Sigil-Bearers could comprehend."
A chill ran through Rylan's bones. "Are they... enemies?"
The figure's voice remained unreadable.
"They are not friends."
Rylan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Then why did they let me see them?"
The figure turned slightly, their hood obscuring their face. "You are marked now. You have stepped beyond the boundaries of the mortal world. And they have noticed."
Rylan felt his blood run cold.
Had he made a mistake?
The visions had shown him things no one else had ever seen. Knowledge that had been buried for centuries. But had he drawn something else to him?
"You fear them," the figure said. It was not a question.
Rylan clenched his fists. "Shouldn't I?"
The figure remained silent for a long moment. Then, they moved, gesturing toward the path that led deeper into the forest. "Come. There is more you must understand."
---
They walked through the trees, the night thick with silence. Shadows stretched long beneath the moon, twisting and curling like living things. Rylan could still feel the weight of unseen eyes, as if the Watchers had not yet turned away.
Finally, they emerged into a small clearing. At its center stood an ancient stone monolith, weathered by time. A single Sigil was carved into its surface, glowing faintly in the dark.
The figure turned to him. "Place your hand upon it."
Rylan hesitated, then stepped forward, pressing his palm against the cold stone.
The moment he did, a flood of voices surged through his mind.
Not words—memories.
Flashes of battle. Sigil-Bearers standing atop crumbling citadels, their bodies alight with power. A war that tore through the heavens, the earth itself split open beneath the force of their conflict.
And then, the Watchers.
Not as gods, not as creators—but as judges.
They had seen the rise of Sigil-Bearers before. They had seen mortals grasp at divinity.
And when they deemed them unworthy—when they saw the imbalance, the arrogance, the hunger for power beyond restraint—
They had erased them.
Rylan staggered back, his breath ragged.
His vision cleared, and the hooded figure stood before him, their gaze unreadable.
"You understand now," they murmured.
Rylan's heart pounded. "The Watchers... they don't just observe." He swallowed. "They decide."
The figure nodded. "And they have begun to watch you."
A shiver ran through Rylan's spine. His path had always been dangerous. But this—this was something else entirely.
The Sigil-Bearers before him had reached heights unimaginable, but none had survived the judgment of the Watchers.
Would he be different?
Could he be?
The figure turned away. "You must rest. The trials ahead will not be kind."
Rylan barely heard them. His mind was racing.
For the first time since he had begun this path, he wondered—was it possible to win this game?
Or had he already sealed his fate?
As he lay beneath the cold night sky, the whispers of the past still ringing in his ears, he realized one thing with chilling certainty.
He was no longer walking an unknown path.
He was walking one that had already been judged.
---
To be continued...