The forest was still again—too still.
No wind.
No rustle of trees.
No breath.
Just those glowing eyes—unblinking and far too calm for something lurking in darkness.
Seraphina's heartbeat thundered in her chest as she instinctively stepped in front of Henry, her hand flaring faintly with energy she couldn't yet name. Mason moved beside her, his blade low but ready, muscles tense like a wolf on edge. Lysara's hand hovered near her dagger, her blue eyes narrowed into slits as she stepped forward slightly.
Then, the shadow moved.
Slow, steady steps echoed on the forest floor like the sound of fate knocking on their path.
Out of the darkness emerged a tall figure draped in midnight robes, a strange dark mist swirling about their feet. The glowing eyes didn't belong to a creature—they were the figure's own. A hollow hood shadowed their face, but every instinct in Seraphina screamed that whatever they were, they weren't entirely human.
"You shouldn't have come here," the figure spoke. Its voice was deep, soft, and strangely melodic—like a lullaby sung in a graveyard.
"Who are you?" Mason barked, stepping forward protectively. "Speak!"
The figure tilted their head slightly. "Names have power," they said. "But for now… you may call me the Watcher."
Lysara's breath caught. "The Watcher? That's impossible. You're just a myth. A guardian cursed to roam the Forest of Wither for eternity…"
"A myth," the Watcher murmured with a hint of amused. "And yet… here I stand."
Henry gulped. "Why were you watching us?"
The Watcher's gaze shifted to Seraphina. "Not you. Her."
The group instinctively turned to Seraphina, who stiffened under the intense gaze.
"She carries the mark," the Watcher continued. "The storm bound to the flame. The balance was broken the moment she stepped into these woods."
Seraphina's hand curled tightly. "I don't know what you mean."
"But you will. Soon."
A flash of wind whipped through the clearing, and the trees groaned around them.
"You've awoken something," the Watcher said, their eyes glowing brighter. "The shadows will follow you now, and they will not stop—not until the truth is spilled and the cycle ends."
Lysara stepped in front of Seraphina, glaring. "Enough with the riddles. What do you want?"
"To warn you. And to test her."
Before anyone could move, the Watcher raised one hand. The ground trembled. A strange circle of black runes glowed beneath Seraphina's feet. She tried to step out, but the magic pulsed, holding her in place.
"No!" Mason shouted, lunging forward, but a wall of dark energy blasted between them, sending him flying back against a tree.
"Seraphina!" Henry yelled.
"I'm fine!" she called out, though her voice trembled. Her skin prickled with burning energy, and visions began to flicker in her mind—shadows twisting, a girl's scream, a crown shattered in blood…
"You carry memories that do not belong to you," the Watcher whispered. "And the forest remembers them all."
The ground cracked beneath her. Power surged. A rush of images overwhelmed her senses—flames, ruins, a woman in white weeping before a mirror. A name echoed in her skull: Velithra.
"What… is this?" she gasped.
"You will understand… when it is time," the Watcher said softly. "But first—survive."
Suddenly, the mist around the Watcher thickened like a storm cloud, and his form began to fade.
"Wait—!" Seraphina shouted.
But They were gone.
In his place, dozens of glowing red eyes blinked open from the surrounding trees.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
An army of shadows.
Lysara hissed and drew both daggers. "Prepare yourselves!"
Mason staggered back to his feet, blood on his lip but fire in his eyes.
Seraphina's breath came in ragged gasps. The runes beneath her feet fizzled, fading—releasing her.
The air grew heavy and darkened ominously.
And from deep within the woods came a distant, blood-chilling howl… not from a beast…
But from something older.
Something waking up.
Something hungry.
The trees bent as if bowing.
And then—out of the trees—a shadow beast unlike any they had faced before stepped into the clearing. Its body was stitched with golden runes, and where its heart should be, a glowing gem pulsed like a second moon.
It looked directly at Seraphina…
And whispered her name.
The beast stood motionless at the edge of the clearing. Its form shimmered with shifting shadows as though it wasn't entirely made of flesh and bone. The golden runes etched into its dark skin pulsed rhythmically with the heartbeat of the glowing crystal embedded in its chest.
And then it spoke again, in a low, gravelly voice that echoed not in the air—but in Seraphina's mind.
"Velithra…"
Seraphina froze. That name again. That word that had carved itself into her thoughts like a branding iron just moments ago. The same name the Watcher had whispered before vanishing into mist.
"Who's Velithra?" she whispered, heart pounding.
Lysara positioned herself in front of Seraphina, one dagger glowing with a silvery enchantment. "Don't answer it. It's a Mindcaller. It speaks to confuse you. To weaken you."
"But it knows me," Seraphina said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It… it's like it's calling me by a name I don't remember."
The beast took a step forward. The runes on its body shimmered brighter with each movement. Its eyes, deep pits of fire, never left hers.
"You were mine…" it whispered, the words heavy with ancient sorrow and rage. "You are still mine."
"No, she isn't!" Mason growled, hurling his blade into the air. A blast of magic followed, light and fire spinning together in a perfect spiral as it slammed into the beast's shoulder.
The creature roared—a sound that made the earth tremble.
It staggered back, but only for a second.
Then, without warning, it lunged.
Everything blurred.
Henry tackled Seraphina out of the way just as the beast's clawed limb struck the ground where she'd stood, sending rocks and dirt exploding into the air. Mason moved like a shadow, intercepting the beast and slashing with a glowing second blade. Sparks flew as steel met rune-covered flesh.
Lysara charged to his side, her daggers slicing with deadly precision, aiming for joints and weak points. "Aim for the heart crystal!" she shouted. "That's its source of power!"
Seraphina pulled herself upright, chest heaving. Her vision blurred for a moment, and then—something changed.
She could feel it.
A presence inside her.
A heat in her chest that answered the pulse of the crystal in the beast.
She clenched her fists, and light flared in her palms. Not fire, not entirely—it was older, purer, like light carved from the first sunrise.
"Everyone back!" she shouted.
The others obeyed instinctively.
The beast turned toward her again, baring rows of jagged teeth.
"Let's see what this power can do," Seraphina whispered.
She raised her hands—and a surge of golden flame erupted from her palms, arching through the air in twin ribbons of power. They struck the beast head-on, wrapping around the crystal in its chest.
The beast screamed—this time not in rage, but in pain. It thrashed, the golden runes on its body flashing wildly, out of sync, destabilized.
Then—an explosion.
Light burst outward in a ring from the beast's chest, hurling everyone back.
Silence followed.
Smoke hung in the air.
Seraphina forced herself to her knees, coughing.
And then—movement.
The smoke parted slowly, and what they saw made Seraphina's blood freeze.
The beast was still standing.
Weakened.
But standing.
The crystal at its heart was cracked—fractured down the center—but it still pulsed dimly.
But that wasn't the worst part.
From behind the beast, more shadows crept forward. Figures cloaked in darkness, hooded like the Watcher but smaller, thinner. Their eyes glowed red and blue and green. There were five. No—seven.
Ten.
They surrounded the clearing in a half-circle, all gazing at Seraphina.
And then—in perfect unison—they dropped to one knee.
And whispered,
"Velithra, welcome home."
Seraphina stood frozen, her heart thundering in her chest. The shadows that had once appeared menacing were now bowing before her, their voices carrying the same reverent tone one might use for royalty—or a goddess.
"Velithra, welcome home."
The name struck her like a blow. It echoed in her mind, but this time it didn't feel foreign.
It felt… familiar.
"No…" Seraphina took a trembling step back. "I'm not Velithra. My name is Seraphina!"
The leader of the cloaked figures raised his head slightly, revealing a face painted with glowing sigils. His voice was deeper than the rest, ancient and layered with an accent from no kingdom she'd ever heard of.
"You are she who sealed the Gates of Oblivion. You who bore the Flame of Rebirth. Your soul was scattered across time, but now… it has returned to its vessel."
Mason pulled Seraphina behind him instinctively. "Don't listen to them. They're trying to manipulate you."
But the man's words stirred something deep inside her—a fire, long dormant, flickering back to life.
"Is that what's happening to me?" Seraphina whispered to herself. "Is that why I can control this strange power?"
Lysara looked between Seraphina and the kneeling shadows, blades still drawn. "Whether it's truth or a trick, we can't stay here. The beast's not dead, and these freaks aren't exactly giving peace treaty vibes."
The cracked beast snarled behind them. Despite the damage Seraphina had inflicted, it began to rise again, its broken crystal glowing faintly, healing slowly.
"We need to move. Now," Henry said urgently. "We'll figure out the rest later."
But before they could run, the lead shadow lifted a hand.
"You are being hunted, Velithra. Not just by that beast—but by forces that even your current strength cannot defeat."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "Then help me understand. Tell me what I need to do."
The man nodded slowly. "When the moon turns red in seven nights, the blood gate will open again. You must choose your path before then. Seek the Temple of Ashara. There, the truth will be laid bare."
"And if I don't?" Seraphina asked, voice sharp with doubt and rising anger.
The figure didn't flinch.
"Then this world burns," the figure said.
A heavy silence fell.
Suddenly, the air grew colder. The beast let out another roar, this time more furious, and began charging toward them, its limbs reforming rapidly.
"Get behind me!" Mason shouted, summoning a barrier of light between them and the creature.
But before the beast could strike again, the shadows rose in perfect formation and stepped in its path.
They chanted in a forgotten tongue.
A circle of fire burst from the ground, encasing the creature.
It screamed in frustration, unable to pass.
"You will have time," the lead shadow said, turning to Seraphina one last time. "But not much."
And with that—they vanished into mist, swallowed by darkness, taking the beast with them in a swirl of fire and shadow.
Only silence remained.
Everyone stood in shock, chests heaving, minds racing.
Finally, Henry spoke. "So… what now?"
Seraphina didn't answer right away. She looked down at her hands—still glowing faintly.
Then up at the sky.
The sun was beginning to set, but the clouds above were stained faintly red, as though foreshadowing something dreadful.
Her voice was low, determined.
"We find the Temple of Ashara."
And just as she spoke the words, a gust of wind swept through the forest, carrying a whisper through the trees, but a secret none could trace.
"The flames shall rise again…"
As Seraphina's words settled in the air—"We find the Temple of Ashara"—a strange stillness washed over the group. It wasn't peace. It was the calm before another storm.
Lysara sheathed her blades, stepping closer to Seraphina. "You really believe what they said? That you're some ancient goddess or… whatever Velithra is supposed to be?"
Seraphina didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the glowing horizon where the red tint of dusk deepened unnaturally fast.
"I don't know what I believe anymore," she admitted quietly. "But I know what I felt when I touched that crystal beast. It was like something inside me woke up—and it wasn't afraid."
Henry exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "So we're just going to walk into a temple that may or may not exist, based on cryptic warnings from creepy shadow people?"
Mason stepped forward, voice calm but resolute. "We don't have a choice. Whatever Seraphina is… or was… she's connected to this. That thing called her Velithra. They all did. That can't be coincidence."
Lysara rolled her eyes. "Or we've all gone mad."
Still, no one moved to argue. The truth had shifted. And now, uncertainty clung to every breath.
"Then we leave at dawn," Seraphina finally said, glancing toward the thick forest trail beyond. "No more waiting. We move."
But just as she turned, a low rumble began beneath their feet.
The ground trembled, barely noticeable at first—but then came the sound.
A scream. Not human. Not beast. Something in between.
Henry's eyes widened. "Please tell me that's not the crystal monster again."
"It's not," Mason said grimly, drawing his blade. "It's something else."
From the direction of the mountain, the sky cracked open with a blinding flash of lightning. A tear—like a wound—split through the clouds, revealing a dark vortex swirling beyond.
Out of it… descended a figure.
He hovered mid-air, cloaked in gold and red. His eyes glowed with the same strange energy that coursed through Seraphina. But unlike her, there was no warmth in his gaze.
Only fury.
Lysara took a step back. "Who the hell is that?"
Seraphina's heart dropped.
Because somehow—she knew.
"The Seeker," she whispered.
The man raised a hand, and the wind howled in response. Leaves, dust, and fire circled him like spirits obeying his will.
"I have come for the vessel," he spoke, voice thunderous and echoing through the valley. "She was not meant to awaken yet. You have interfered, Mason Knight. You, Henry of the Fallen Flame. And you…"
His eyes locked onto Seraphina.
"…you dare wear Velithra's soul."
Seraphina stepped forward, trembling, but refusing to let it show.
"I didn't ask for this power," she said, voice louder than she thought it could be. "But I'm not giving it up either."
The Seeker's lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile.
"Then you have chosen rebellion," he said simply.
He lifted his hand again. The air grew tight, suffocating.
Mason moved in front of Seraphina, wings of light flaring wide, sword glowing brighter than ever. "You'll have to go through me."
The Seeker's eyes narrowed. "Gladly."
And with a flick of his fingers—the ground exploded.
A blinding light swallowed them all as the air split with the sound of power crashing into power. Trees flew, flames sparked across the earth, and a force so immense it shook the mountain surged toward them.
Seraphina tried to reach Mason, but the light was too strong.
"Mason!" she cried, her voice swallowed by the blast.
Everything turned white.
And just before she blacked out, a whisper touched her ears—a voice not her own.
"The soul must awaken… or the world shall fall."