The wind whistled through the trees of Veridian Forest, a cold lament that swept dry leaves and a chill that slipped beneath armor like an invisible blade. Twisted trunks rose like broken sentinels, their bare branches clawing at a gray sky that seemed to hold its breath. A group of four adventurers moved forward with cautious steps, their boots crunching over the leaf-strewn ground with a sound that faded into the vastness of the forest, as if the air itself swallowed it. They were explorers from the East City branch of the Adventurer's Guild, sent to unravel the mystery of Thalric and his team's disappearance—a group that had ventured into the forest weeks ago to investigate anomalous activity and never returned.
Mara, the leader, walked at the forefront, her sturdy frame clad in hardened leather armor that creaked with each step. Her weathered face, etched with lines from years of battles and sleepless nights, was taut, her dark eyes scanning the terrain with a mix of resolve and something deeper: a fear she wouldn't admit to the others. She gripped a longsword in one hand, its worn edge still sharp, while the other rested on a dagger at her hip—a habit that had kept her alive more times than she could count. The air was thick, heavier than it should have been in spring, and each breath left a bitter aftertaste in her throat, as if she were swallowing ashes.
"There's nothing," muttered Jorin, a thin, nervous man walking to her right, his voice barely a whisper trembling on the edge of panic. His bony fingers clutched a short sword, and his eyes, sunken in dark circles, darted from tree to tree as if expecting something to leap from the shadows. "Thalric and his crew… not a trace. No armor, no weapons, no blood. It's like the forest swallowed them whole."
Mara didn't answer right away, her gaze fixed on a clearing ahead, a space where the trees parted as if fleeing from something unseen. The ground there was dusted with black ashes floating in the air, shimmering with a faint red glow that pulsed like a distant heartbeat. There were no bodies, no signs of a struggle—just that eerie void that made the forest's silence feel alive, watchful. "This isn't a normal forest," she said at last, her raspy voice cutting through the air like a blade. "There's something here… something I don't understand."
Lirien, the youngest of the group, a healer with a pale face and green eyes that flickered with a mix of curiosity and dread, shivered to her left. Her gray robe was speckled with dirt, and her hands gripped a staff carved with runes that emitted a faint blue glow, a futile attempt to steady her nerves. "It feels like the life's been ripped out of this place," she whispered, her voice quaking as she stared at the floating ashes. "No birds, no insects… nothing. Like something consumed it all."
Torvak, a burly man with a scar slashing across his cheek, grunted from the rear, his warhammer resting on one shoulder as his dark eyes swept the clearing. "I've seen fields scorched by dark magic, villages razed by orcs… but this is different," he said, his deep tone heavy with a rare caution. "No burn marks, no blood. Just… nothing."
Mara stopped at the edge of the clearing, the ashes drifting around her like fragments of a shattered sky. The red glow stirred something in her, an echo buried in her memory—words whispered by her grandmother on cold nights by the fire. "This isn't the first time I've felt this," she said, her voice low but steady, her eyes locked on the ashes as if they might speak. "My grandmother lived through it… a hundred years ago, when the sky bled red and the earth split open. The Catastrophe."
Jorin let out a nervous laugh, a sharp sound that broke the silence and earned him a cutting glare from Torvak. "The Catastrophe?" he said, his sword shaking in his grip. "That was a comet, Mara. Everyone knows that. The kingdoms confirmed it—a comet that disrupted the world's magic. What's that got to do with this?"
"My grandmother didn't believe it," Mara shot back, her tone hardening as the memory came alive in her mind. "She was in New Eldrin that day. She saw the sky split into black fissures, heard trumpets that froze her blood. She said a shadow knight stepped from a portal, its lance shattering King Alaric's attack—the invincible Alaric—with a single blow. 'The Queen has awakened her first echo,' it declared, and then everything broke. She swore it wasn't a comet—that it was a queen's awakening."
Lirien frowned, her staff's blue glow dimming as the air seemed to thicken. "That sounds like old wives' tales," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "King Alaric stopped The Catastrophe. He's invincible—everyone knows that. The mages of the Ivory Tower proved it was a comet. Why make up a queen?"
Torvak grunted, tightening his grip on his hammer. "Tales or not, something killed Thalric and his lot," he said, his eyes fixed on the clearing. "And this place doesn't lie—there's something here I don't get, and I don't like it."
Mara didn't reply, her mind caught in her grandmother's words. "The sky bled, and the knight laughed," she'd said, her voice trembling even decades later. "It wasn't a comet, Mara. It was a queen, and her echo's still out there." Mara had thought them the ramblings of a trauma-scarred old woman, but now, facing this void, the red ashes, and the weight crushing her chest, she wasn't so sure. What if her grandmother had been right? What if that queen still lived?
"Search the clearing," she ordered, her voice sharp as she unsheathed her dagger, a reflex to steady the tremor in her hands. "Look for anything—tracks, energy, whatever. But don't split up. Whatever did this might still be close."
The group fanned out carefully, their movements slow and tense, as if afraid to wake something dormant. Jorin probed the ground, his fingers brushing the ashes that crumbled into fine, cold dust, his breath quickening as he muttered, "Nothing… nothing…" Lirien raised her staff, trying to sense the place's energy, but the blue glow snuffed out instantly, her face paling as she whispered, "It's like the air's dead." Torvak tapped a tree with his hammer's handle, the sound reverberating with a hollow echo that made them all freeze, their eyes darting to the shadows.
Mara knelt near the center of the clearing, her fingers tracing a mark on the ground—a circle of twisted branches, their bark etched with lines that seemed to shift, an echo of the black fissures her grandmother had described. "This isn't natural," she murmured, her voice quaking as the memory of those trumpets rang in her mind. But before she could say more, a whisper sliced through the air—a low lament, like a faint echo of cold laughter that came from nowhere and everywhere at once. The adventurers spun, weapons raised, but there was nothing, just the wind now carrying a red tinge in its howl.
"We need to go," Jorin said, his voice breaking as he stumbled back, his sword clattering to the ground. "This isn't a job for us."
"Not so fast," Torvak growled, though his eyes betrayed his own unease. "If we run without answers, the Guild'll have our heads."
Mara stood, her gaze locked on the twisted branches. "We're not running," she said, though the weight in her chest screamed otherwise. "But this isn't something we can face alone. We head back to East City. The Guild needs to know."
In the Adventurer's Guild headquarters in New Eldrin, Cedric Veylan studied a map spread across his desk, his fingers drumming a rhythm that echoed like falling debris from a century ago. Red marks dotted the canvas, one pinpointing Veridian Forest where Thalric and his team had vanished. Midday light streamed through the window, bathing his office in a glow that clashed with the darkness clouding his mind. His black tunic, embroidered with golden threads, fit a body untouched by time—a Guild secret he guarded like a weapon. But his gray eyes, sharp as daggers, betrayed a burden no spell could erase.
Eldrin burst into the room, his pale face flushed and his glasses slipping down his nose as he clutched a small vial. "Sir," he said, his voice shaky as he set it on the desk, "a report from East City. Thalric's team… gone in Veridian Forest. This is all they found."
Cedric took the vial with fingers that trembled for a split second, a reflex of the young apprentice who'd fled through ruins as the sky bled red. Inside, black ashes floated with a faint red shimmer, an echo that struck him like a hammer to the chest. The memory surged: the roar drowning Harveth's screams, the fire swallowing the old headquarters, the shadow knight whose lance shattered Alaric's golden light with one strike. "The Queen has awakened her first echo," it had said, and Cedric, hiding behind a broken beam, had felt terror carve itself into his soul. Now, this vial—this void—was the same. "Not again," he muttered, his sarcasm masking the cold sweat trickling down his spine.
"What's the report say?" he asked, his voice sharp as he turned the vial, the red glow reflecting in his eyes.
"Nothing clear, sir," Eldrin replied, adjusting his glasses with a nervous tic. "No bodies, no gear, just these ashes. They say the forest is… dead. Like something consumed everything."
Cedric slammed the vial down, his mind racing as the echo of trumpets resounded in his memory. "Consumed," he repeated, his cold smile slicing the air. "Like a hundred years ago, when the sky cracked and Harveth burned. This isn't a comet, Eldrin—I don't care what the Ivory Tower's books say. This is her."
"Her?" Eldrin frowned, his pen quivering over his notebook.
"The Queen," Cedric snarled, leaning forward. "The one who woke her echo and left us in ashes. If this is her doing, I'll draw her out—I'll control her. I won't be the apprentice running again." His tone blended fear and ambition, a man who saw chaos as a ladder to power. "Send another team—expendable, but well-armed. Have them scour the forest until they find something or die trying. And dig up the Catastrophe records—I want every scrap Harveth left before the fire silenced him."
Eldrin nodded, scribbling swiftly as Cedric's words filled the room with weight.
Inside the dungeon, on the second floor, Sebastián watched from a shadowed corner, his eyes tracing the underground lake where embedded gems cast greenish reflections. He'd never left in a hundred years, his world confined to these walls, his human strength too feeble to fight but enough to tend the poisonous plants that had snared many an intruder. The chaos Aurora and Kaili wrought didn't faze him—it was their game, and he was a willing spectator, a gardener in a realm of shadows.
Kaili emerged from the lake, her slender form slicing through the water with a hiss, her iridescent wings unfurling with a whisper that filled the air with purple and blue reflections. Her purple skin gleamed, golden runes pulsing as water slid down her curves, her black armor molding to her body like a second skin. She approached Sebastián, her steps echoing on the stone, stopping so close that the heat of her wings enveloped him. "The insects are restless, gardener," she said, her voice a cruel whisper as she brushed his arm with a wing, a deliberate touch that prickled his skin. He grinned, bold, sliding a hand along her arm, and she didn't pull away, her runes flaring gold in silent acceptance.
"Let them play," he replied, his tone indifferent as his gaze lingered on the lake's shimmer. "You and Aurora know how to keep them busy."
Kaili laughed, a cold sound that vibrated through the walls, and strode off toward the fourth floor, leaving a trail of water that gleamed like blood under the gemlight.
In the main chamber, Aurora sensed the intruders' feeble souls brushing her domain. Her amber eyes flared with a cosmic glow, and with a whisper to the dungeon—"Kaili, have fun"—she sealed her will. When Sebastián entered, she greeted him with a serene smile, leading him to the garden with steps that echoed like a command. They sat so close their thighs brushed, and as she offered him a blue flower that bloomed under her touch, her fingers lingered on his, her warm breath grazing his neck. "For you," she whispered, her voice laced with possessive tenderness that charged the air.
"It's beautiful," he said, taking it with a calm that didn't question the chaos beyond. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the outside world—with its ashes and echoes—vanished, leaving only the refuge they'd built together.
Beyond, in the forest, Kaili emerged among the trees, her wings slicing the air with a wail that warped the light. With a gesture, the clearing bent: shadows stretched like claws, the wind laughed with forgotten voices, and an invisible plague clouded the adventurers' minds, leaving a trail of cosmic ashes as a taunt. "Let the game begin," she whispered, her lethal voice curling through the air as she watched the group flee, her cruel smile an echo of the laughter that had shattered the sky a century ago.