The wind carried whispers that did not belong. Ren could hear them, low and fractured, like voices speaking from beyond the veil of reality. They curled around him like invisible tendrils, slipping through the cracks of his consciousness.
"It is watching..."
"He has taken the Voidfang..."
"The cycle will break..."
Ren clenched his jaw, steadying his breath. The voices had begun ever since he grasped the Voidfang, growing stronger the longer he wielded it. At first, he had thought they were remnants of the weapon's previous owner—shadows of forgotten battles. But now, standing alone in the war chamber of his newly fortified stronghold, he knew better.
These whispers were not echoes of the past.
They were warnings of the future.
A flicker of movement drew his gaze to the edge of the chamber. Mira stood at the entrance, her silhouette framed by the torchlight. She had barely slept since their battle with the Heralds, her eyes sharp with concern.
"You're hearing them again, aren't you?" she asked.
Ren sighed. "They haven't stopped."
Mira stepped closer, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. "You don't think it's the gods?"
Ren shook his head. "No. This is something else. The gods are watching, but they don't whisper. They command."
Mira frowned, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. "Then what do they want?"
Ren exhaled slowly. "That's what I need to find out."
Before Mira could respond, the chamber doors creaked open again. This time, it was Draven who entered, his expression grim. The strategist had spent the last few days gathering intelligence from spies and scouts across the continent. Whatever he had learned, it wasn't good.
"We have a problem," Draven said, crossing the chamber with long strides. "Two, actually."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
Draven unrolled a map onto the table between them. "First, the gods are moving faster than we expected. More Heralds have been sighted near the eastern territories. If they're gathering forces, it means they're preparing for something big."
Ren studied the map. "And the second problem?"
Draven hesitated, then tapped his fingers against the edge of the table. "There's been talk of… something else. A presence. Our spies report strange occurrences—entire villages abandoned overnight, warriors disappearing without a trace. The survivors speak of shadows moving on their own, of voices whispering in the wind."
Mira stiffened. "That sounds exactly like what Ren has been experiencing."
Draven nodded. "And that's not all. There's a rumor spreading among the old mystics. They call it the Forgotten One."
Ren felt a chill crawl up his spine. "The Forgotten One?"
Draven's voice was low. "A being even the gods fear."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. The gods had always been the ultimate force in this world—unchallenged, omnipotent. But now, something else lurked in the dark, something ancient enough to make even divinity tremble.
The whispers in Ren's mind surged again, louder this time.
"The gods are liars..."
"The cycle ends with you..."
Ren met Mira's gaze, then Draven's. The path ahead was no longer just about defying the gods.
It was about uncovering the truth they had buried.
And the truth was calling his name.