In the heart of the forest, trees and a manufactured clearing waged a slow war. Nature was winning. Of the old temple, only the main building had some roofing left. Small buildings were scattered around, of which only crumbling parts of walls remained. Small animals and birds had claimed cracks and hiding places as their own.
A sudden noise shattered the stillness, sending the small creatures darting for cover. A few birds took off, wings flapping toward the higher branches. A loud laugh echoed through the abandoned ruins, then faded into silence. Inside the temple, a thin but athletic young man in ragged travel clothes was jumping around, obviously excited about something. The crumbling walls stood watch, as if holding their breath. The young man stopped, gazing in the distance. Two weeks of discomfort, totally worth it. He then pumped his fist and screamed, "Yes, Jake, you did it!"
He sprawled across his makeshift bed, still grinning. He found it amusing that he used the old, cracked altar as a mattress. Like he was some worthless offering no god would bother to take. Or maybe you watched over me? You were supposed to be a guardian of some sort a long time ago. Are you that desperate for followers? The laughter faded, but his smirk remained as he rolled a strange, gleaming bauble between his fingers. The gem at its center, pure and transparent, mirrored the surroundings, like a mini world was trapped inside. The stone was held in delicate metalwork, intricate and old. Jake tilted it, letting a stray ray of sunlight catch the stone. Iridescent refractions danced inside, shifting like liquid fire. A hint of blue danced in the stone, mirroring Jake's eyes.
This was it, his ticket out. Months of planning, failed scams, and near-misses had led to this moment. He'd done the impossible. Breaking into the College of Magic was not an achievement. Getting inside was easy if you knew where to slip through, but cracking the treasure vault and escaping unscathed? That was something to be proud of. Or was it? The College had its reputation. People whispered about its powerful mages, untouchable secrets, and hidden knowledge. Jake grew up far away from the college, or rather, he survived on the fringe of civilisation until now. And he knew better. There's no such thing as magic. Those old swindlers at the College were running a better con than anyone else. They weaved illusions, played tricks, dressed up cheap parlor acts as forbidden knowledge. His smirk widened. Same game, higher stakes. But this glowing trinket? This was his now.
He mechanically blew away a strand of brown hair that kept falling into his eyes. Then tossed the bauble into the air, watching it spin in the dim light. His thin fingers caught it effortlessly. Where to next? He imagined himself somewhere far away, somewhere the College wouldn't chase him. A new city, a new identity. The bauble landed neatly in his palm. It shuddered with a low hum, vibrating through his fingertips. Jake frowned and sat up, staring intently at the stone.
A second ago, the gem was transparent white. Now, a deep pink pulse glowed from its core, throbbing like a heartbeat. The metal felt warmer, almost alive. A prickle crawled down his spine. What is going on? Jake stood up, scanning the ruins. The broken stone and old pillars were shimmering, like something seen through the heat rising from a summer road. Mist coiled through the air, thickening unnaturally. He had seen unusual things as a thief, but never something like that. The air was distorting to give birth to the mist. The pink glow from the stone seeped outward, staining the fog like ink in water. Soon, his surroundings were drowned in a monochromatic light pink tone. The world around him shifted, like looking through warped glass.
Jake's instincts screamed. Hide first, think later. That reflex had saved his life more times than he could count. His heart pounded, but he moved slowly, carefully. His sharp ears strained… Nothing. No birds. No wind. Even his breath was muffled, as if the mist swallowed sound itself. He crept toward the doorway, his foot clipped his old cooking pot. It dropped without a clink, rolled, and came to a dead stop against the wall. A chill washed over Jake as the mist reacted. Swirls of pink smoke sniffed at the pot. Or at least, that's what it looked like. Tendrils curled around it, tasting, testing, like a predator inspecting its prey. Jake froze. Then he ran.
Stepping outside didn't bring relief. Cold air pressed against him. Blankness swallowed his thoughts, leaving nothing but the distorted world beyond the broken walls. The ruins barely existed anymore. Everything past the fractured walls was warped, distant, like a dream fading before awakening. In front of him, the mist thickened, an impenetrable veil swallowing everything just five steps ahead. Jake's curiosity warred with his fear. He clenched his fists, that old fire in his gut flickering back to life. You think you can trap me here? I'll show you!
Anger burned through the unease. He screamed, but the mist swallowed every sound. It stirred in response, shifting and swirling. A deep chill seeped into his bones, like an enormous beast waking up. Jake shivered as a hostile presence washed over him. An overwhelming gaze fell upon him, pressing against his skin like ice, pinning him in place. The thief's survival instincts took over, razor-sharp and unyielding. He fell into an old habit, a whispered mantra: I'm not here. You can't see me. I'm not here. Go away. Slowly, the pressure eased. The mist pulled back, unraveling like smoke caught in a breeze. But a lingering sense of danger remained. Jake's breath rasped in his throat. His hands trembled. He stumbled back into the ruins. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The pink glow of the bauble pulsed erratically.
He collapsed onto the altar, gripping the jewel tightly, his stomach twisting. Despair overwhelmed him. He couldn't tell if the hollow ache in his gut was from hunger, fear, or the unsettling thrum of the bauble in his hand.
Hours passed. His instincts stayed sharp, waiting for something, anything, to happen. But nothing did. The bauble's pulse slowed in his grip, its rhythm matching his fading strength. The cold seeped deeper as exhaustion pulled him under. The mist weaved around him, as if it was breathing against his skin.