2025-05-25 18:15:39
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Too Late to Turn Back
“You’re too slow…”Lyra’s voice was heartbreaking. Its tone was cold, alien, like a shadow that had lost its light. Darren stared at her through the wisps of smoke, his heart caught in his throat. Lyra stood beside Varn, her robe transformed into a dark purple hue with patterns like black ink flowing in water. Lyra’s eyes—once sparkling with spirit—now glowed a fiery purple, like an unquenchable demonic candle.“Lyra!” Darren shouted, stepping forward with his sword in hand. “That’s not you! Fight its influence!”But Lyra did not answer. She merely raised her hand slowly, and from her palm, a vortex of dark energy emerged—spinning slowly, like a whirlpool swallowing light.Seraphina, still sprawled on the ground, clutched Darren’s robe. “That’s not the Lyra we know. But that doesn’t mean she’s gone… You have to believe she can still be saved.”Maeve drew two long knives from behind her leather belt. “If she chooses the side of darkness, we have no choice, Darren. This isn’t about your
The Room Without Shadows
Their footsteps echoed through the long corridor that seemed to stretch endlessly. Darren walked in front, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, while Maeve followed behind, gripping tightly the silver dagger gifted by Zimar. Seraphina, now looking more exhausted than ever, bit her lip, trying to steady her trembling legs."Lyra is ahead... I can feel it," Darren muttered, his voice taut with tension.The corridor was cold and silent, yet the air around them seemed to churn with unseen energy. No shadows followed their steps, even though the faint light from the lanterns on the wall still glowed. Seraphina only then realized this oddity and paused."Wait... have you noticed? Our shadows are gone," she whispered.Maeve snapped her head around. "Damn it, it's a trap—"Suddenly, the walls of the corridor shook violently. The black stones shifted on their own, forming a new structure. Without warning, the floor beneath them yawned open like the mouth of a primeval beast. Darren pulled
Branches of Fate
Beams of light shot up from the glowing pillars, piercing the black sky and splitting the space into shards of invisible dimensions. Arkan, Mira, and Reza were flung in different directions, their bodies pulled by an unknown force that tore through the fabric of reality.The wind whispered like the voices of a million lost souls. Lyra's voice still echoed in their ears—cold, no longer bearing the warmth of the girl they once knew."One of you... will not return."Arkan landed hard on a scorched black stone floor. A heavy thud echoed behind him—the stone door closed on its own, trapping him in a narrow corridor with a towering ceiling. The walls were carved with faces in tears.His steps were heavy. His sword emitted a faint flicker, as if reflecting its wielder’s doubt.From the end of the corridor came the sound of soft footsteps.“Arkan…?” A familiar voice echoed from the darkness.Arkan looked up, eyes wide. That small figure… Aira—his sister who had long since died. But how could
The Hidden Truth
A low growl echoed from beyond the ruins as Reza turned his face away from his still-bleeding wound. Arkan and Mira stood frozen, their gaze fixed on the creature slowly emerging from the black mist. Not just any creature—this was something not even recorded in Zimar's ancient scriptures, something that seemed to originate from the depths of a world they never knew existed.Its figure resembled a human, yet it was too tall and thin, as if its bones had been stretched, tearing its skin until it was almost ripped. Its eyes glowed fiery red, and on its chest pulsed a strange symbol—appearing like a seal etched from the light of darkness. Its breath was heavy, smoky, and each step left a frozen trail on the stone floor."This… is no ordinary creature," Mira whispered, slowly raising her dagger. "Even the scent of the air has changed… like poison."Arkan swung his sword, preparing himself. "Is this one of the Guardians of the Second Stage?""Worse," Reza murmured, his hand trembling. "This
The Final Weave
The Thread of Dream-Reality trembled in Lyra’s hands, as if aware that this very moment held the key to either salvation or annihilation. One final weave… not only to seal Vareth-Nhul, but to save the fragile yet still-living soul of the Child.The cavern's ceiling cracked—CRACK!—pillars collapsing one by one as ancient creatures began to spill through the Main Gate into the real world. Thick black mist like oil dripped from above, taking the form of elongated hands that reached for anyone who dared to move.Arkan and Darren knelt, their bodies shaking from the magical energy they were pouring out to shield Lyra and the Child.“Hurry, Lyra!” Mira cried out in desperation, standing among rubble and blood that now pooled across the temple floor.Lyra closed her eyes. Her fingers began to dance in the air, manipulating the glowing Thread—not with ordinary magic, but with memories, hopes, and choices.“The weaving begins…”She stitched the sky. She rewove the currents of time. She inscrib
At the Brink of the Main Gate
The colossal shadow loomed before them, yet it wasn’t the shadow that rooted Arkan in place—it was the small figure at its center. The Little One, the very child they had protected all this time… now stood in the middle of a blood-carved rune circle, their body radiating an aura of void so dense that it made the air itself feel suffocating.“L-Little One?” Mira’s voice trembled, caught between horror and disbelief.But the child didn’t turn. They only stared at the massive gate behind them—the Main Gate—sealed for millennia with the blood of the Ancient Guardians. Ancient emblems rotated slowly above it, sucking the surrounding aura into their motion. And now, with a single word from those tiny lips, the entire world could change.“I… remember everything,” the child said quietly, yet their voice echoed through the cavern like thunder splitting the sky. Their eyes were no longer those of a human child. What stared back were two bottomless voids, gleaming dark purple—like the eyes of Va
