The Shattered Prophecy

Eryk’s legs were trembling, but he couldn’t stop moving. Each step was driven by something deep within him, a primal instinct that urged him to go forward, despite the bone-chilling fear that crawled under his skin. The scream still echoed in his ears, reverberating through his bones as if the mountain itself was alive with menace.

The mountain had never felt so oppressive. The air had thickened, suffocating him, pressing in from every angle, and yet he kept climbing. The weight of the fear, the heavy uncertainty that gripped his chest—he couldn’t shake it. The sound of those agonized screams haunted him, and the presence of something darker loomed just out of reach.

Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to escape, but he pushed forward. He had come so far. He had spent days climbing this mountain, pushing his body past its limits, learning to harness his power, to focus, to follow the sword path. And now, just as the final test seemed to be unfolding, there was something lurking—something he couldn’t understand. Something terrifying that he needed answers to.

But the moment he decided to take another step, to continue onward and confront whatever horror awaited him at the top of the mountain, everything went still.

The scream stopped.

For the briefest moment, the world felt like it had frozen in time, suspended in an unnatural quiet. The air was still, the oppressive weight lifting.

Eryk stopped mid-step, heart racing. He stood there, breathless, eyes scanning the mountaintop. His thoughts swirled, his fear mounting. What had caused that? What was it?