The dust had barely settled when Kaelen finally sheathed his sword. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his breath still ragged from the battle. The guardian was gone, the obelisk shattered, and the unnatural loop that had held them prisoner had been broken.

Yet, something was wrong.

The valley—the one they had fought so hard to escape—was gone.

Where there had once been jagged cliffs and winding paths, now stretched an entirely different landscape—vast, desolate, and unfamiliar. A barren expanse of blackened earth extended before them, and in the distance, a great mountain loomed, its peak lost in swirling violet storm clouds.

Kaelen took a step forward, his boots crunching on the dry, brittle ground. It felt wrong beneath him, like walking across the remnants of something long-dead. He glanced at the others, gauging their reactions.

Orin’s expression was grim, his gaze locked on the distant mountain.

Dain was scanning their surroundings, his fingers twitching near his bow, uneasy.

Elira stood perfectly still, staring at the sky—not above, but below.

Kaelen followed her gaze, and his breath caught.

The sky—the real sky—was no longer above them.

It stretched out beneath their feet, an endless abyss of stars and swirling galaxies, as if they were walking on the very edge of existence itself. Their own shadows twisted unnaturally against the reflective void, mirroring them in delayed, distorted movements.

Varian whistled low. “Alright. I’ll be the first to say it—where in all the gods’ names are we?”

Orin exhaled slowly. “Not anywhere we should be.”

Elira shivered, rubbing her arms. “I can still feel it. The magic. It’s stronger here.”

Kaelen clenched his jaw. “We were never supposed to make it past that loop.”

Dain nodded grimly. “Which means whatever’s out here… no one was meant to see.”

Silence fell over the group.

Then Orin, ever the pragmatist, turned toward the mountain. “It’s the only landmark. If we are to make sense of this place, we start there.”

Kaelen looked up at its towering form, unease curling in his gut. It called to him, the same way the artifact had.

But he nodded. “Then we move.”

The Road That Shouldn’t Exist

They walked in silence, the only sound the faint whisper of wind moving over the dead earth.

It was unnervingly quiet.

No birds, no insects, no signs of life. Not even the echo of their own steps felt natural—like the ground refused to acknowledge their existence.

Hours passed. Or at least, Kaelen assumed hours had passed. There was no sun, no moon, no sense of time. Only the unchanging sky beneath them and the swirling void above.

Then—the first sign of life.

Elira stopped suddenly. “Wait.”

The others halted.

“What is it?” Kaelen asked.

She pointed. “Look.”

At first, he didn’t see anything. But then, just ahead on the path, he saw it—a single tree.

It stood alone in the emptiness, twisted and gnarled, its bark a deep shade of silver, as if carved from moonlight itself. No leaves, no blossoms—just cold, lifeless branches reaching upward toward the void.

Dain narrowed his eyes. “That’s… impossible.”

“It’s not dead,” Orin murmured, stepping closer. “It’s sleeping.”

Varian scoffed. “Trees don’t sleep.”

Orin turned, his expression unreadable. “Here, they might.”

Kaelen stepped forward, reaching out—

Then the whispering began.

It wasn’t wind.

It wasn’t the sound of the ground shifting.

It was voices.

Kaelen froze.

They came from everywhere and nowhere, layered, overlapping, speaking words he should understand but somehow didn’t. His head throbbed. His pulse quickened.

Elira let out a strangled gasp, clutching her ears. Dain cursed under his breath, stepping back, arrow nocked, searching for a threat he couldn’t see.

The tree moved.

Not like a living thing—but like a reflection in water, rippling and distorting.

And then, it spoke.

Not in words. Not in a voice.

But in memory.

Kaelen’s mind split apart.

A Glimpse of a Forgotten Past

A battlefield, drenched in golden light and crimson blood.

Figures locked in combat, but their faces were empty, shifting, unformed—like memories left unfinished.

And then—the cube.

The artifact.

Resting in the hands of someone he should know but didn’t.

They turned, looking directly at him.

Kaelen’s breath caught.

Their face—

“You were never meant to be here.”

Kaelen hit the ground hard, gasping as he snapped back into his own body.

Orin was crouched beside him, hand on his shoulder. “You saw something.”

Kaelen blinked, his mind still reeling. “A battle. The artifact. And… someone.”

Orin’s expression darkened. “Who?”

Kaelen swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The whispering had stopped. The tree had returned to stillness.

Dain glanced between them. “That’s it. We burn it.”

“It’s not the enemy,” Orin said.

Varian crossed his arms. “Then what is it?”

“A warning,” Orin murmured. “Or a memory of one.”

Elira shuddered. “Then we keep moving.”

Kaelen hesitated, his gaze lingering on the tree. He felt its weight pressing against his mind, something unspoken left behind.

Then he turned.

They walked on.

The Shadow in the Fog

The closer they got to the mountain, the thicker the air became—heavier.

Then, without warning, the ground shifted.

Not like an earthquake. Not like crumbling stone.

It tilted.

Kaelen barely had time to react before he felt it—gravity turning against them.

Elira screamed as the world flipped, and suddenly, the sky that had been beneath them was above, and the ground was gone.

They were falling.

Kaelen reached for anything—any foothold, any ledge—

And then—

A hand.

A cold, unfamiliar hand grabbed his wrist.

It wasn’t one of his companions.

His stomach lurched. He looked up.

And froze.

The face staring down at him—he had seen it before.

Back in the vision.

Back in the memory.

The figure smiled.

And let go.

Kaelen plummeted into the void.

To be continued...