The trail stretched endlessly before the column of slaves, a ribbon of dust winding through the desolate plain.
The twin suns had vanished below the horizon, plunging the Dark Star Realm into a twilight of eerie stillness.
The air grew cold, the wind carrying a faint, metallic tang that set Song's nerves on edge.
His legs burned with each step, the slave collar tightening whenever he slowed.
The Twilight Lord Sect's representative led the way, his black robes blending into the gathering shadows.
Song's body screamed for rest, but the collar's grip was unrelenting.
He glanced at the old man beside him, whose frail form seemed ready to collapse.
"How much farther?" Song whispered, his voice hoarse.
The old man shook his head, his breath labored.
"No use asking," he said.
"They'll march us until we break."
Song's jaw tightened.
He had survived the caravan by burying his despair, but this journey tested his limits.
Each step was a battle, each breath a defiance of the collar's chokehold.
I won't break, he vowed, clinging to that burning spark within.
The caravan moved deeper into the mountains, the terrain growing harsher.
Jagged rocks lined the path, their edges glinting in the faint light of the stars.
The air grew heavier, as if the mountains themselves exhaled a warning.
Song's tattoo pulsed again, stronger now, sending a shiver through his veins.
What's happening to me? he thought, his fingers brushing the single stripe on his forearm.
The collar suppressed his spiritual energy, yet the tattoo seemed to stir, as if answering an unseen call.
Grue's heavy footsteps echoed behind the column, his presence a constant threat.
Song could feel the overseer's eyes on him, that crooked grin promising pain.
"He's still watching you," the old man muttered.
"Stay low, Song."
"I'm trying," Song replied, his voice tight.
"But it's like he wants me to fail."
The old man's eyes darkened.
"Men like Grue don't need a reason," he said.
"They break people because they can."
Song's chest tightened.
He had learned to endure cruelty, but Grue's malice felt personal, as if Song's mere existence offended him.
The column halted at the base of a towering cliff, its surface etched with strange runes that glowed faintly in the dark.
The Twilight Lord raised a hand, and the slaves sank to the ground, exhausted.
Song's legs gave out, his body collapsing onto the cold earth.
The collar loosened slightly, allowing him to breathe.
The old man sat beside him, his face pale.
"You're stronger than you look," he said.
"But don't push yourself too far."
Song managed a weak smile.
"I don't have a choice," he replied.
The Twilight Lord approached the cliff, his fingers tracing the runes.
A low hum filled the air, and the stone shuddered, revealing a hidden passage.
The slaves stirred, fear rippling through the column.
Is this the cave? Song wondered, his heart racing.
The rumors of the Twilight Lords' cursed cave flooded his mind—tales of lost power and unspeakable horrors.
His tattoo pulsed again, a sharp jolt that made him gasp.
The old man noticed, his eyes narrowing.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Song shook his head, unsure how to explain.
"It's my tattoo," he whispered.
"It's… doing something."
The old man's expression turned grim.
"Be careful, boy," he said.
"That tattoo might be more than it seems."
Before Song could reply, the Twilight Lord's voice rang out.
"Move!"
The slaves scrambled to their feet, driven by the collars' tightening grip.
Song forced himself up, his muscles screaming.
The column shuffled toward the passage, the darkness swallowing them whole.
Inside, the air was damp and heavy, the walls slick with moisture.
The runes glowed brighter now, casting an eerie light that danced across the slaves' faces.
Song's tattoo pulsed in rhythm with the runes, each beat stronger than the last.
What is this place? he thought, his mind racing.
The passage widened into a vast cavern, its ceiling lost in shadow.
Strange, rune-covered crates lined the walls, their contents hidden.
The Twilight Lord stopped, turning to face the slaves.
His eyes swept over them, lingering on Song once more.
"You will serve a greater purpose," he said, his voice cold and resonant.
Song's heart pounded.
What purpose?
Were they to be laborers, or something far worse?
The collar tightened, urging silence, but his tattoo burned, as if awakening to a hidden legacy.
Grue stepped forward, his grin wider than ever.
"You heard the master," he barked.
"Move, worms!"
Song stumbled forward, his body pushed to its limit.
The cavern seemed to pulse with energy, the runes glowing brighter with each step.
His tattoo flared, a wave of warmth flooding his veins.
He gasped, his vision blurring.
The old man grabbed his arm, steadying him.
"Hold on, boy," he whispered.
"Don't let them see."
But it was too late.
Grue's eyes locked onto Song, his grin twisting into something predatory.
The Twilight Lord raised a hand, silencing the overseer before he could act.
Song's legs buckled, and the world tilted.
His tattoo burned hotter, a whisper of power stirring within.
As darkness closed in, he heard a faint voice—not the Twilight Lord's, not Grue's, but something ancient, echoing from the void.
You are more than you know.
Song's eyes fluttered shut, his body collapsing.
The cavern's runes flared, casting a blinding light.
Whatever awaited in this place, Song was bound to it—whether by fate or curse.