The world snapped back with a violent, almost painful snap. One heartbeat, the Whispering Market had been alive with flickering neon flames, impossible stalls, and murmurs threading through the air like static. The next, Erevan was standing on the cracked plains.
Kaelith, Vega, and even Sir Quacksalot were beside him. But everything else—the market, the floating lanterns, the glitching merchants—had vanished.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the gray expanse, pressing against his temples like a weight made of stone. He could feel the relic inside his chest, pulsing hotter than any injury should allow, syncing with the erratic beat of his own heart.
(Relic Integrated: Shardbound Core)
(Effect: Corruption Affinity unlocked)
(Current Stability: 16%)
He pressed a hand against his ribs, trying to steady himself. "So… anyone else feel like I just swallowed a nuclear warhead, or is that just me?"
Kaelith's eyes swept the horizon, fingers brushing lightly over her bowstring. Her usual composure was threaded with unease. "It wasn't just the relic, Erevan. There was… something else. Something watching."
Erevan groaned, letting out a sound somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. "Yeah, the discount Grim Reaper with a hole for a face. Did anyone catch its name? I feel like I should report it to customer service. 'One Whisperer, slightly void-faced, terrorizes anomaly, 10 out of 10, would not recommend.'"
Vega's glitching form flickered violently, more erratic than usual, their tone low and serious. "That was no merchant. That was a Whisperer. And if it saw you, it will not forget. Not you. Not your shard. It will mark it forever."
Erevan tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the tightness in his chest. "Great. So, add 'being stalked by shadow-demons with zero chill' to my bingo card. Right between 'contractually obligated to nearly die every week' and 'accidentally destabilizing reality.'"
Sir Quacksalot quacked solemnly, tilting his head, as if he understood exactly what that meant.
The cracked plains trembled beneath their boots. At first, it was subtle, almost like the hollow heartbeat of the world itself. Then the pulse grew stronger, urgent, echoing through the bones of the earth.
(System Alert: Threat Level Escalation)
(Incoming Anomaly Detected – The Whisperer's Shadow)
From the fractures, shadows began to slither. Thick, black as spilled ink, moving like liquid intent, pooling upward and stretching until a humanoid shape emerged.
Erevan's stomach tightened. The void-faced figure stared without eyes, without expression, yet radiated something: pure predation. Reality itself seemed to strain at its edges, folding unnaturally to contain it.
Kaelith drew an arrow, nocking it with a calm precision that belied the tension in her jaw. "Erevan. Whatever that thing wants, it's not here to negotiate. It isn't here to talk."
Erevan took a slow step back, hands hovering near his chest as the shard throbbed violently. Static prickled along his veins. "Yeah, I got that vibe when it stared at me like I was an appetizer platter."
The shard whispered inside his mind, twitching with awareness of the looming shadow.
(Ability Unlocked: Corruption Pulse)
Effect: Release unstable static energy in a 20-meter radius
Warning: May damage allies. May damage self. May… do nothing
Erevan blinked. "Wait, did it just say 'may do nothing'? That's not a power. That's a shrug!"
The Whisperer lifted one elongated arm. Shadows whipped forward, slicing the air like living blades.
Kaelith loosed her arrow—a streak of pale blue fire screaming toward the entity.
Vega stepped into its path, glitch energy rippling outward like a chaotic wave, warping the arrow mid-flight and twisting the light into a liquid current that bent unnaturally around the shadow.
Erevan's pulse quickened. Two heartbeats to decide: trust the relic, or run screaming across the plains. His body made the choice.
"Fine! Pulse this!"
The shard in his chest ignited. A jagged wave of raw static exploded outward, crackling and snapping through the air. Shadows screamed and splintered, black lines cracking through the ground in chaotic, jagged webs.
Kaelith was thrown backward, bow clattering, as she hit the dirt. Vega slammed sideways, glitch sparks trailing their form like a comet of broken code. Sir Quacksalot tumbled through the chaos, squawking indignantly.
When the dust settled, the Whisperer remained—but its form wavered, flickering, edges jagged and unstable, like reality itself was rejecting it.
(Corruption Pulse dealt 28% integrity damage)
(Warning: Stability -3%)
(Current Stability: 13%)
Erevan staggered, static bleeding across his vision, the horizon doubled. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking inside his chest.
Kaelith scrambled upright, brushing dirt from her armor. "It… it hurt it!"
Erevan wheezed a laugh, chest heaving. "Yeah, well, it hurt me too! Fair trade, right?"
The Whisperer tilted its voided head once, then collapsed into a flicker of smoke, dissolving into the wind. A whisper pricked at the edges of Erevan's mind, sharp and cold.
Silence returned. Only his ragged breaths and Sir Quacksalot's indignant quacks broke it.
(System Alert: Encounter Survived)
(Progression Path Unlocked: Whisperbound)
(New Objective: Survive three more encounters with the Whisperer)
Erevan blinked at the floating text. "Three more? Oh, sure. Because one wasn't enough trauma for my week."
Kaelith lowered her bow slightly, unease lingering. "It didn't retreat. It marked you. The Whisperer doesn't fight to win—it fights to claim."
"You mean… claim what?" Erevan asked, shard thumping violently in agreement.
"You," Vega said flatly, glitch flickering across their form. "Or what you carry."
Erevan rubbed his face, muttering to himself. "Let me get this straight: cursed relic fused into my ribs, shadow-demon wants me on layaway, and every sneeze costs me stability points. Got it."
"Correct," Vega said, calm as ever.
Sir Quacksalot pecked at his boot, as if to punctuate the absurdity of his complaints.
Kaelith's gaze swept the cracked plains. "We can't linger. It will return stronger. We need shelter—somewhere the shadows can't reach freely."
Erevan groaned, shoulders sagging. "Suggestions?"
Kaelith hesitated. "The Glass Citadel."
Vega flickered violently. "Death sentence. The guardians inside destroy anything tainted by corruption. You won't make it three steps."
Kaelith's eyes flashed. "And what's your solution? Let him wander these plains until it eats him?"
Erevan raised his hands. "How about a compromise? Somewhere less… murder-y. Maybe a beach resort? With cocktails?"
Neither responded.
The shard throbbed painfully.
(System Quest: Seek Shelter – Glass Citadel)
Reward: Stability Recovery +5%
Failure: Immediate Whisperer Encounter
Erevan slumped forward. "Of course the system sides with Team Certain Death. Thanks, buddy."
Sir Quacksalot quacked sharply, either in agreement or protest—he couldn't tell which.
Kaelith tightened her grip on her bow. "It's decided. The Citadel."
Vega flickered, unstable. "You'd better hope your shard behaves. The guardians won't hesitate if it doesn't."
Erevan exhaled slowly. "Great. Shadow Toast or Citadel Toast. Can't wait to find out which one tastes worse."
Jagged towers glinted in the distance—the Glass Citadel. The shard throbbed against his ribs like a drumbeat, whispers pressing against his mind:
You are marked.
You are chosen.
You are mine.
Erevan muttered under his breath, "Oh yeah. Totally fine. Definitely not hallucinating evil ASMR in my brain. This'll be a great trip."
Sir Quacksalot quacked, apparently in full agreement.
Far behind them, deep in the cracks of the world, a shadow stirred. Waiting.
The plains were silent. Too silent. Every footfall on the cracked earth echoed unnaturally, bouncing off the jagged fragments like a warning. Erevan's chest burned from the pulse, veins crackling with static that lingered long after the first blast. His ribs felt like they were stuffed with shards of white-hot glass.
Kaelith crouched beside him, breathing shallow, checking her bow for damage. "It's not gone. It's still watching," she murmured, voice tight. Her golden eyes scanned the horizon with surgical precision, tracing every shadow, every ripple in the fractured light.
Erevan exhaled, trying to steady his shaking hands. "Sure. It's probably just taking notes. 'Notes: human male. Slightly crispy. Enjoyable screaming. Subject approved for further testing.'"
Vega hovered slightly ahead, their glitching form pulsing as if resonating with the shards embedded in Erevan's chest. "It is assessing you," they said softly, voice stretched across digital and human tones. "It knows what you carry. That relic binds you to corruption. You cannot escape that notice."
Erevan rubbed his face, trying to massage away the panic—or at least pretend he was. "So let me get this straight: I now have a cursed relic fused into my ribs, a shadow-stalker wants me for breakfast, and every sneeze could cost me a point of stability. Sounds like a bargain, right?"
"Correct," Vega said calmly, and for a second, Erevan considered smacking them.
Sir Quacksalot waddled over, pecking at Erevan's boot, clearly judging him for whining.
Kaelith's gaze shifted toward the horizon. "We can't linger. We need shelter. Somewhere enclosed. Somewhere the shadows can't flow freely."
Erevan groaned, shoulders sagging. "Suggestions?"
Kaelith hesitated, weighing her options. "The Glass Citadel."
Vega flickered violently. "Death sentence. The guardians destroy anything tainted by corruption. You won't survive three steps inside."
Kaelith shot Vega a sharp glance. "And your suggestion? Let him wander the plains until it eats him?"
Erevan threw up his hands. "Compromise? Maybe somewhere less… murder-y. Beach resort? Cocktails?"
No one laughed.
The shard pulsed violently, reminding him it wasn't about comfort.
(System Quest: Seek Shelter – Glass Citadel)
Reward: Stability Recovery +5%
Failure: Immediate Whisperer Encounter
Erevan slumped, muttering under his breath. "Of course the system sides with Team Certain Death. Thanks for the pep talk, buddy."
Sir Quacksalot quacked sharply, either agreeing or protesting—he couldn't tell which.
Kaelith tightened her grip on her bow. "It's decided. The Citadel."
Vega flickered, body unstable. "Then hope your shard behaves. The guardians will detect the faintest hint of corruption."
Erevan exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. "So, Shadow Toast or Citadel Toast. Let's see which burns worse."
Jagged towers glinted in the distance—the Glass Citadel. Light fractured across impossible angles, reflecting shards of the sky. The shard throbbed against his ribs, whispering:
You are marked.
You are chosen.
You are mine.
He muttered under his breath, "Oh, totally fine. Just walking with a shadow demon breathing down my chest. Normal Tuesday."
The plains groaned beneath their feet. Fractures widened, temperature dropped. Shadows seeped from cracks, twisting like liquid intent.
Then it emerged.
The Whisperer.
Liquid night poured into humanoid form, impossibly vast and impossible to comprehend. Its void-face tilted, scanning Erevan like he was a puzzle it intended to solve. Every instinct screamed run, but every step forward was weighted by the shard's pulse, by the relic's corrosive heat.
Erevan's hand hovered over the relic. He could feel the shards thrumming, resonating in tense synchronization. Every pulse sent nausea rippling through his gut.
"Looks like we've got company," he muttered, attempting a grin that faltered halfway. "And it didn't even bring an RSVP."
Kaelith's arrow glowed faintly. "It doesn't negotiate. It doesn't bargain. It claims."
Vega's form shimmered, glitching violently. "It's assessing you, Erevan. It knows what you carry. That relic—it binds you to the corruption. It cannot ignore that."
Erevan exhaled slowly, trying to calm the thrum in his chest. Great. I'm marked, radioactive, and everyone's pretending to be polite about it.
The Whisperer stepped closer. Its edges flickered and twisted unnaturally, as if reality itself strained to contain it. The shard pulsed violently, reacting to the proximity. The relic throbbed in tandem, sending sharp jolts up his spine.
Kaelith's voice cut through the tense silence. "Erevan, you need to control it. The relic and your shard—they're tied. If you let the pulse surge uncontrolled, you could destabilize both yourself and the terrain."
Erevan's eyes darted between her, Vega, and the shadow. "So… freak it out or blow myself up. Yeah. Perfect. Comforting."
Vega's glitching form stabilized just enough for a faint smile. "It's not control. It's balance. Let it resonate with you, not against you. Let it echo, not dominate."
He could feel the shard reacting, wild, eager, threatening to overwhelm him. The relic burned with corrosive heat in his chest. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to scream. Instead, he inhaled sharply, letting the pulse intertwine with his shard.
A jagged wave of static exploded outward, slamming into the Whisperer. Shadows screamed, jagged lines cracked across the ground, the earth buckling in protest.
The Whisperer recoiled, edges tearing into itself, flickering violently.
(Corruption Pulse Activated: Integrity Damage Dealt – 40%)
(Warning: Stability -5%)
(Current Stability: 8%)
Erevan staggered, chest pounding. "Yep. Definitely not fine. Definitely going to die here. But hey, at least I'm making it hurt for it."
Kaelith rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a lash of shadow tendrils. "It's adapting! Keep moving, Erevan!"
Vega's hand waved, glitch flames intercepting the Whisperer's strike. "Don't overextend! Balance the pulse. Hurt it, but stabilize yourself!"
The shards screamed in harmony, every pulse sapping Erevan's strength. Each beat tore at the edges of the shadow, forcing it to retreat fractionally.
"I feel like I'm being chewed on from the inside while I chew it from the outside. Fair," he muttered through static-laced breaths.
Sir Quacksalot, undeterred, charged into a coil of shadow, spinning wildly and knocking edges apart. Erevan let out a bitter, short laugh. "Yes, my duck is braver than I am. Fantastic. Glad someone's having fun."
The Whisperer wavered, flickering as if trying to rematerialize fully. Every pulse, every interference from Vega shredded its form incrementally. Its void-face tilted—calculating, patient, predatory.
It wasn't just attacking. It was marking him. Claiming him. Testing the limits of endurance.
Kaelith's voice sliced through the tension. "We can't hold here. Distance. Take it somewhere contained. The Citadel. Only chance."
Erevan leaned on the shard's pulse, sweat stinging his eyes. "Glass Citadel. Sure. Less murder-y. Totally a casual stroll. What could go wrong?"
Vega flickered, anxious. "You must control both shards the entire way. The guardians will detect the faintest corruption flare."
"…I know," Erevan said grimly. "I explode. Got it. Totally reassuring."
The Whisperer's shadows stretched, flickering, probing for weaknesses. The relic throbbed violently. Every whisper of static urged action.
The shards screamed in harmony. Every step toward the Glass Citadel was a gamble, every pulse a negotiation between life, death, and the curiosity of an entity that existed beyond understanding.
Sir Quacksalot quacked indignantly, pecking at Erevan's boot—a sharp, absurd reminder that life still existed, no matter the apocalypse.
The Citadel shimmered in the distance, jagged towers reflecting the fractured sky. Static whispers pressed at Erevan's mind:
You are marked.
You are chosen.
You are mine.
Erevan clenched his jaw. "Yeah, totally fine. Just a normal walk with a shadow demon breathing down my neck. Fun. Really fun."
Kaelith and Vega exchanged a brief glance. Every step forward was a countdown. The Whisperer was patient. It would not forget.
And far behind them, deep in the fissures, the shadows stirred—waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.