The sound came again—low, deliberate, and somehow both distant and near.
"Aaron…"
He froze, every muscle tensing. The night air was cool against his skin, yet a bead of sweat traced down his neck. The darkness in the forest seemed to thicken with each passing heartbeat. Lyra, who had been walking beside him just moments before, stopped mid-step and tilted her head, her expression tightening.
"You heard it too?" Aaron whispered, his voice barely above the rustle of the leaves.
Lyra's eyes scanned the shadows. "Yes. But it's not coming from one direction—it's… everywhere."
Aaron swallowed hard. His instincts screamed at him to run, but something about the voice was… familiar. Not a voice he recognized, exactly, but one that stirred a strange pull deep inside him, like a memory he couldn't quite grasp.
They stood there, listening. The whisper came again, and this time, it was unmistakably closer.
"Aaron… come…"
A cold shiver shot down his spine. "This is a bad idea," he muttered, but his feet betrayed him, taking a cautious step forward. Lyra caught his arm.
"You're not seriously going toward it, are you?" she hissed.
"I—" Aaron hesitated. "I think… it knows me."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't follow it." Her grip tightened.
Before he could respond, the air around them shifted, heavy with an unnatural stillness. The chirping insects stopped. Even the faint rustling of branches went silent. It was as if the whole forest was holding its breath.
Then, without warning, a faint glow appeared between the trees ahead. It wasn't bright—more like the dim shimmer of moonlight reflected on water—but it pulsed in time with the voice.
Aaron glanced at Lyra, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. In her eyes, he saw a reflection of the same uncertainty churning in his chest. But curiosity—and something else, something he couldn't name—was stronger.
"I need to see what it is," Aaron said firmly, pulling his arm free.
Lyra exhaled sharply. "Fine. But I'm not letting you go alone."
They moved forward cautiously, every step sinking them deeper into the oppressive silence. The glow grew stronger, weaving between the trunks as if it were alive, drawing them onward.
The whisper came again, clearer now. "Aaron… hurry…"
He tried to call out, to demand who—or what—was speaking, but the words caught in his throat. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged. Panic flared briefly, but he forced himself to focus on walking, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
Lyra's hand brushed his as they moved, a silent reassurance. Her other hand rested on the hilt of her dagger, the blade she had never once let out of reach since they met.
After several minutes, they entered a small clearing. The glow pooled in the center, casting faint light over a weathered stone that jutted out of the ground like an ancient monument. Strange symbols covered its surface, carved deep and worn smooth with age.
Aaron's breath caught. The symbols seemed to twist and shift when he looked directly at them, as though they refused to be understood.
The voice came again—louder now, and more urgent.
"Aaron… touch it."
Lyra immediately stepped in front of him. "No. Whatever this is, it's not normal. We're leaving."
Aaron shook his head slowly. "I… I think I'm supposed to."
"You think, or you know?"
"I don't know how I know, but…" He trailed off, his eyes fixed on the stone. "It feels like it's calling me—only me."
The glow brightened, spilling over the grass and painting their faces in silver-blue light. The symbols seemed to shift faster, as though responding to Aaron's presence.
Lyra's voice dropped to a near-growl. "If you touch that thing and something happens to you, I'm dragging your unconscious body back to town
Aaron gave a faint, nervous smile. "Noted."
He stepped forward.
The moment his fingers brushed the stone, the world exploded in light. A blinding flash consumed the clearing, forcing Lyra to throw her arms over her face. Aaron felt a rush of heat, followed by a sensation like being pulled through water at impossible speed. His vision swirled with shapes and colors he couldn't name, and the whisper became a chorus, dozens of voices speaking in unison.
Then, just as suddenly, it all stopped.
Aaron found himself standing in a vast, empty space. The ground was smooth and black, reflecting the faint light of an endless void above. There was no wind, no sound—only stillness.
And then… a figure appeared.
It was cloaked in shadow, yet Aaron could make out the faint outline of a humanoid form. The figure's eyes glowed faintly, not with malice, but with a weight of knowledge that made Aaron feel small.
"You have come," the figure said, its voice deep and resonant, layered with echoes.
Aaron's heart pounded. "Who are you? Why do you know my name?"
The figure tilted its head. "Because your path began long before you were born. And now… it begins again."
Before Aaron could respond, the void around them rippled, and images began to take shape—distant worlds bathed in strange suns, colossal beings locked in battle, rivers of stars stretching into infinity.
"You stand at the edge of what is," the figure continued. "Beyond lies what could be. But only if you survive what comes next."
Aaron's mouth was dry. "What's coming next?"
The figure took a slow step forward, and though its face remained hidden, Aaron felt its gaze pierce through him.
"A trial. One that will decide not only your fate, but the fate of countless others."
The void shuddered, the images fracturing into shards of light.
And just before everything dissolved, the figure's final words echoed in Aaron's mind:
"Trust no one… not even those you think you know."
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