The golden bridge stretched before them, suspended in the void like a thread of light. Mallory took the first step, the Blade of Heroes humming softly in her grip. The others hesitated for only a mont before following.
Greg muttered under his breath, "I don’t trust magic bridges. Too much ’oh no, it’s collapsing at the last second’ energy."
Quinn grinned. "Yeah, but wouldn’t it be fun?"
Greg shot him a look. "I will throw you off this thing."
The bridge held firm beneath their feet, each step echoing unnaturally, like the sound was being swallowed by the void. As they moved forward, the air shifted.
It felt... thicker. Heavier. Like they were walking through sothing more than just empty space.
And then the whispers started.
Faint at first. Distant. But then—clearer.
"Turn back."
"The path ahead is ruin."
"You are not worthy."
The words coiled around them, slithering into their ears, pressing against their minds.
Greg clapped his hands over his ears. "Nope. Nope. I refuse to be haunted by disembodied eldritch judgnts!"
Elara narrowed her eyes. "They’re testing us."
Alex exhaled slowly. "Ignore them. Keep moving."
Mallory tightened her grip on the blade. She could hear the voices too, but they were different for her. Not warnings—mories.
Or at least, they should have been.
Familiar words, familiar voices... but they felt hollow.
Like echoes of a life she could no longer fully rember.
Sothing had been taken from her.
She shoved the thought aside and kept moving.
The whispers grew louder.
The bridge began to shift.
Each step forward beca harder, like they were pushing against an invisible force. The golden light flickered—monts of darkness replacing the glow beneath their feet.
Then, ahead of them, the gate appeared.
A massive archway of black stone, etched with runes that pulsed with cold silver light. It looked ancient, untouched for centuries—yet it humd with power, waiting for them.
Waiting for her.
___________________________
Mallory took a slow breath as the golden light of the gate behind them dimd, vanishing into nothing.
They had arrived.
The city before them was a graveyard of giants—massive, broken towers stretched toward the sky, their stone foundations cracked with age. Pale, silver-blue vines curled around ruined statues, and the streets were eerily silent. Not even the wind stirred.
Greg shuddered. "Okay. Calling it now. This place? Super cursed."
Quinn adjusted his daggers. "Yeah, but look at all the loot."
Elara shot him a glare. "This isn’t a scavenger hunt, Quinn."
Mallory wasn’t listening. The Blade of Heroes vibrated softly in her grip, the runes along its hilt pulsing with golden light.
Sothing was here.
Sothing waiting.
Alex stepped beside her, his hand on his sword. "Mallory?"
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze was fixed on the largest structure in the city—a massive cathedral-like building, still partially intact, standing at the heart of the ruins.
"The Oracle is there," she said. She didn’t know how she knew. She just... did.
Greg sighed. "Great. The creepy center of the creepy city. Love that for us."
No one argued. They started forward, boots crunching softly against the broken stone.
The deeper they went, the more wrong the air felt. The silence was unnatural—thick, heavy, listening. As if the city itself was watching them.
Then the echoes started.
Faint at first.
Footsteps that weren’t theirs.
Shadows moving at the edges of their vision.
Whispers drifting through the still air.
Alex tensed. "We’re not alone."
Mallory’s grip on her sword tightened. "We keep moving."
They passed through what might have once been a marketplace—collapsed stalls, shattered pottery, rusted weapons left where they had fallen. Frozen remnants of a civilization long gone.
And then—
A figure appeared in the street ahead.
It was human-shaped but... wrong.
Its body flickered, shifting between solid and translucent, like a projection that couldn’t fully hold its form. Its face was featureless, its body wrapped in a tattered, dark cloak.
It stood completely still.
Watching them.
Greg took a step back. "Okay. NO. Absolutely not. We are NOT doing haunted city nonsense."
The figure suddenly tilted its head.
And then, it moved.
Not walking—gliding. Silent. Swift. Straight toward them.
Mallory reacted on instinct.
She raised the Blade of Heroes, and the mont the golden light flared—
The figure stopped.
The city seed to shudder.
And then, with a sound like breaking glass, the figure vanished.
Greg exhaled. "I hate this place so much."
Mallory didn’t lower the blade. She could feel it now. The city wasn’t just haunted.
It was trapped.
And they had just stepped inside its cage.
They didn’t stop moving.
By the ti they reached the massive doors of the cathedral, the echoes had grown louder. The whispers were no longer distant—they were right behind them.
When Mallory pushed open the cathedral doors, the inside was...
Breathtaking.
Unlike the ruined city outside, the interior was pristine—tall marble pillars stretched toward a high, vaulted ceiling covered in intricate carvings. Golden lanterns burned softly, lining the walls.
And at the far end of the massive hall, sitting upon an elevated throne of stone and crystal—
Was the Oracle of Rust.
A figure clad in ragged, crimson robes, their face hidden beneath a silver mask.
The mont they entered, the Oracle spoke.
"You carry the Blade."
The voice echoed, ancient and knowing.
Mallory stepped forward, ignoring the uneasy looks from the others. "We need answers."
The Oracle’s head tilted slightly. "And you have paid the price to receive them."
Her stomach clenched. She didn’t even know what she had lost when she took the sword. But it was gone.
And she could never get it back.
The Oracle slowly rose from their throne.
"The Blade of Heroes is no re weapon," they said. "It is a seal. A lock. And it is now yours to wield."
Mallory frowned. "A lock for what?"
The Oracle’s silver mask glead.
"The thing that slumbers beneath this city."
Greg groaned. "There it is. The part where everything gets worse."
Quinn shot him a look. "When did you think things were going well?"
The Oracle stepped closer, their voice lowering.
"The Forgotten Gate does not lead to salvation. It was built to contain sothing. Sothing that once shook the heavens."
The floor beneath them rumbled.
"The last Hero sealed it away," the Oracle continued. "And with their sacrifice, the city fell to ruin. Their legend erased."
Mallory swallowed hard. "And now?"
The Oracle paused.
"The seal is breaking."
Mallory’s grip on the sword tightened. "Because of ?"
The Oracle studied her for a long mont. Then, softly—
"Because of ti."
Silence.
Then, suddenly, the entire cathedral trembled.
A deep, thunderous roar shook the air, so powerful that the lanterns lining the walls flickered.
And then—
The doors behind them slamd shut.
Greg whirled. "Oh, co on!"
The Oracle turned toward the far end of the cathedral. The golden lanterns dimd, one by one, until only the faint silver glow from their mask remained.
"The mont has co," they said.
The floor beneath them cracked.
A gust of freezing wind surged through the hall, howling like a dying beast. The cathedral groaned as the very stones seed to twist and warp.
Alex stepped beside Mallory. "Tell we’re not about to fight sothing horrifying."
Before she could answer, the floor beneath the Oracle collapsed.
A void of darkness erupted outward, consuming everything in its path.
And from that darkness—
Sothing moved.
A formless, writhing shadow. Massive. Ancient. Waking.
The Oracle’s voice was calm.
"The First Horror rises."
Greg threw up his hands. "I TOLD YOU THIS PLACE WAS CURSED!"
Then the darkness lashed out.
And the battle began.
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