At dawn, a thin mist clung to the mountainside, rolling between the crags like a restless tide. Aric stirred awake before the others, the cold biting at his skin despite the thick wool cloak. He sat for a moment, listening. The mountain was eerily still—no birdsong, no rustle of small creatures in the brush. Only the faint, hollow sigh of the wind weaving through distant gullies.
Kael woke next, rising with the silent ease of a hunter. He crouched at the ledge's edge, scanning the valley below. "The mists came early," he murmured. "That's never a good sign."
Aric glanced toward the pale shrouds that drifted along the slopes. "What does it mean?"
Kael straightened, his eyes fixed on the winding trail above. "Old folk say the mountain breathes when it senses intruders. The mists mark the path of the awakened."
Lira stirred with a soft yawn, clutching her doll tightly as she blinked up at the two men. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing yet," Aric said gently. "Stay close to us today. The mountain doesn't welcome strangers."
They set off shortly after, packing away the camp in silence. The higher they climbed, the thicker the mist became, until the world shrank to a narrow stretch of rocky path surrounded by a curtain of shifting white. Every step felt like walking through a dream—silent, unreal.
The path itself grew treacherous, with jagged rocks and patches of ice hidden beneath the fog. At times, the mountain slope fell away to sheer cliffs that vanished into the mist below. Kael led them carefully, testing the ground with his spear before each step.
Hours passed in a tense quiet, broken only by the sound of boots crunching against stone. Lira clung to Aric's hand, her gaze darting nervously at the shifting mist.
It was Lira who first noticed the whispers.
She slowed, tugging lightly at Aric's sleeve. "Do you hear that?" she whispered.
Aric stopped, straining his ears. At first, there was nothing—just the low sigh of the wind. Then, faint and distant, came the sound of voices. They were soft, like murmurs carried from far away, yet oddly clear, as if spoken right beside the ear.
"Keep moving," Kael said sharply, his tone edged with unease. "Don't listen to them."
But the whispers grew stronger the further they went, threading through the mist like unseen fingers. They weren't merely sounds—they carried emotions, coaxing, tempting. Some promised warmth and safety, others whispered of secrets buried beneath the mountain. Lira pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head.
"I don't like it," she said, her voice trembling. "They're calling my name."
Aric gripped her shoulder gently but firmly. "Ignore them. They're not real."
"They'll try to draw you off the path," Kael warned without looking back. "If you follow them, you'll never return."
The relic at Aric's belt pulsed faintly, a soft warmth against his hip. Strangely, the whispers seemed to fade slightly whenever his hand brushed the pouch. He kept it close as they pressed on, the unseen voices fading in and out like the tide.
Eventually, they reached a narrow pass between two sheer cliffs. The mist was so thick here that the air shimmered with droplets of moisture. At the center of the pass stood a massive slab of stone, flat and upright, like a gate carved by giants. Its surface was etched with the same flame-like sigils Aric had seen on the lower pillars.
Kael stopped a few paces away, planting his spear in the ground. "This is the first test," he said quietly. "The Gate of Whispers."
Lira peered around Aric's arm, her voice small. "A test?"
"The ancients sealed the mountain to keep something in—or to keep people out," Kael said grimly. "No one passes the Gate unless they can withstand its voice."
As if in response, the sigils on the stone flared faintly with pale blue light. The whispers in the mist swelled into a chorus, each voice distinct yet blending into a strange, haunting harmony. Aric felt a chill slide down his spine.
He stepped forward, placing his palm against the cool stone. The relic at his belt glowed faintly, its warmth seeping into his arm. The voices shifted, as though recognizing him, then grew harsher—angrier.
In his mind, the whispers took shape as words. They spoke of his past, of the mistakes that had cost him his former life, of the regrets he carried like hidden scars. The weight of them pressed into his chest, trying to bend his will.
Aric gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. He had come too far to falter now.
"Your words mean nothing," he muttered under his breath. "I'm not that man anymore."
The relic pulsed again, stronger this time, and the sigils on the stone dimmed as though retreating. Slowly, the oppressive weight of the whispers lifted, replaced by the quiet hush of the mountain.
The massive stone gate shuddered. With a deep grinding sound, it shifted aside, revealing a narrow path winding upward into the mist.
Lira let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You did it…"
Kael stepped forward cautiously, his expression still wary. "Don't relax yet. The mountain's tests only get harder."
As they passed through the opened gate, Aric glanced back once. The mist behind them seemed to swirl with restless shapes, as if disappointed prey had slipped away.
The path ahead wound upward between towering cliffs, disappearing into the endless white. Somewhere beyond, the heart of the mountain—and the sealed fortress—awaited.