Chapter 7 – Whispers of the Forgotten Realm
The forest had not known silence since Kael's awakening. Even when the night draped itself in velvet shadows, the trees shuddered with an unseen pulse, their roots trembling as if the earth itself feared what had been unleashed.
Kael sat at the edge of the campfire, his hands clenched, his breath shallow. His veins glowed faintly beneath his skin, threads of silver and violet weaving across his arms like veins of living lightning. He tried to steady them, but the energy within him refused to be tamed.
Lyra watched him from across the fire, worry furrowing her brow. "Kael," she whispered, breaking the silence, "you're not… yourself. The power—it's changing you."
"I can feel it too," Serin muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond the camp. "Every creature within leagues has gone quiet. That's not natural."
Elara pulled her cloak tighter, her voice trembling. "It's as if the night itself is listening."
And then it came—the whisper.
Soft, yet chilling, it slid through the air like mist curling through broken glass. A language none of them recognized, yet Kael understood every word. His head jerked toward the shadows, his eyes glowing faintly.
Child of forgotten blood… bearer of untethered might… the balance quakes.
Kael stood, his fists tightening as the whisper grew louder, echoing in his mind. It wasn't merely sound—it was pulling at him, dragging his soul toward something unseen.
The fire flared, sparks bursting skyward as if the flame itself recoiled. A figure emerged from the shadows—not flesh, not ghost, but something in between. Its form flickered like smoke, its voice layered with a thousand tones.
"You are not ready," the spirit intoned, its hollow gaze fixed on Kael. "Infinite strength comes with infinite chains. For every realm you bend, another will break."
Lyra stood, dagger drawn. "Who are you? What do you want from him?"
The spirit's hollow laugh carried through the night. "Not want. Warn."
And as if to prove its words, the ground beneath them split. A jagged tear of light carved through the soil, stretching upward until it formed a rippling gateway—a rift of swirling shadows and pale fire. From within came a sound like distant bells, each chime soaked in sorrow.
Kael staggered closer, his chest heaving. "I know this place," he whispered, though he had never seen it before. Memories not his own pressed against his mind—wars waged in forgotten realms, voices begging for salvation, chains of starlight binding an eternal throne.
The spirit lifted its shifting arm, pointing at the rift. "The Forgotten Realm calls you, Kael. Cross, and you will claim dominion beyond mortal measure. But every step you take within will cost you something you hold dear."
Silence fell. The crackle of the fire was nothing compared to the weight of those words.
Lyra rushed forward, grabbing Kael's arm. "Don't listen to it! We don't even know what's inside. You could be walking into a trap."
His gaze softened as he looked at her. For a heartbeat, he almost turned away. But the whisper came again, stronger, pressing into his skull like a blade of ice.
Choose, Kael. Power or restraint. The world will not wait for your fear to fade.
Serin cursed under his breath. "If you walk through that rift, you may never come back."
Kael's lips curved into something between fear and resolve. He pried Lyra's hand gently from his arm, his voice low. "If this power destroys me, then better me than all of you. If I don't master it, someone else will pay the price."
And without waiting for another word, Kael stepped forward. The rift's light swallowed him whole, and the whispers rose into a deafening chorus.
When the light died, only silence remained.
Lyra stared at the empty air where he had stood, her heart pounding. "Kael…" she whispered, her hand trembling in the night.
Behind them, the spirit lingered, its voice echoing like a curse. "The boy walks a path where even gods fear to tread.