The Road
The road was a dry river of dust and loose stones.
Lucas walked without haste. His eyes fixed on nothing. His body moved on its own.
But he was not alone.
"Keep walking."
The whisper slid into his mind like sweet poison. Familiar. Comforting enough to be dangerous.
"The path lies before you."
He didn't answer. He couldn't. Maybe because part of him agreed. Maybe because the other part already knew it was too late to turn back.
The city emerged on the horizon like a poorly healed wound. Tall, grimy walls stood like the ribs of a dead beast that still insisted on breathing.
Lucas stopped. The wind blew dust through the half-open gates, as if even the world avoided entering.
He knew: that city would hate him.
But he stepped inside anyway.
The City of Shadows
The smell hit him like a hot punch to the gut: rotting spices, rust, stale sweat, and old blood baked into the stones. The air was hot, heavy, and pressed down on his shoulders like a soaked blanket.
The city wasn't alive. It was rotting while standing.
The streets were a suffocating chaos. Tattered tents fought for every inch of space. Vendors screamed offers in blended dialects, as if selling their own sanity. Children thin as shadows bit at the air for scraps of bread. Beggars crawled like worms, stretching hands that no longer looked human.
The scent of fresh bread tried to survive among the stench of rotten meat. A butcher's shop displayed dark slabs of flesh hanging from rusty hooks, swarmed by flies buzzing as if mocking the world.
Further down, men threw dice over a makeshift table. Their laughter was hollow, forced, until a dagger flashed. One of them collapsed, his throat split open.
Blood seeped into the cracks of the stones. No one reacted.
The game continued.
Lucas moved through the chaos like a specter. Eyes followed him. Some with fear. Others with hunger. Others… with recognition.
The city recognized predators.And Lucas was one of them.
The Tavern of the Damned
The door creaked. The air inside was old, as if the sins had soaked into the walls.
Conversations, drinks, smoke.
When Lucas entered, silence fell for a second. One second was enough.
He sat at the counter. Ordered something that didn't matter. The gesture was a ritual. The glass, a disguise.
A voice came from behind:
"Looking for something, stranger?"
Lucas didn't turn.
"Information. About... powerful figures."
Dry laughter. The man smelled of addiction and betrayal.
"Power has a price. And you don't look like you have gold."
Lucas tilted his head just enough. His eyes gleamed under the lantern's light. It wasn't a human shine.
The man swallowed hard.
"Well... maybe you could talk to him."
He pointed to a corner of the tavern where the light refused to reach.A hooded figure awaited him.
Lucas moved toward it.
Kael, the Negotiator
"My name doesn't matter," the figure said without lifting his face. "But if you need one, call me Kael."
Lucas sat. The table between them looked more like an altar than furniture.
"I'm looking for a way to recover something lost. I need to find the Demon King."
Kael stayed silent for a moment.
"He's testing you."
The voice echoed again inside Lucas. Closer now. Almost... eager.
Lucas ignored it.
Kael leaned in:
"There's a legend about a temple... a place where the laws of existence bend. But, like everything that involves power..."
He smiled.
"...there is a price."
Lucas kept his gaze steady.
"What price?"
Kael extended a hand, fingers thin as burnt branches.
"I need a symbol. Something that proves you understand what you're about to do."
Lucas said nothing.
Kael looked directly at him.
"Every man carries something that anchors him to the past."
Kael's gaze dropped. To the bracelet.
"If you had to choose between moving forward... or holding onto the last memory of who you once were..."
Pause.
"What would you choose?"
The air thickened.
"He shouldn't know."
The Abyss's voice seemed to smile within.
Lucas closed his hand. The bracelet between his fingers. Clara's face, her laughter, the warmth of her small hand.
Kael kept watching. Waiting.
"She's already forgotten you."
Lucas clenched his teeth.
"Let go."
He lifted his hand.And opened it.
The bracelet fell onto the table.
Kael picked it up carefully, as if touching something sacred. In return, he placed a map before Lucas.
"May the path lead you where pain can no longer follow."
Lucas took the map. Stood up. And left.
Each step grew heavier.
Hollower.
And then he heard:
"Now you belong to us."
The voice no longer whispered. It laughed.
And Lucas... laughed with it.
But there was no joy in that sound.
Only the sound of what remained of a man.