The moonlight barely pierced through the dense canopy of the Whispering Woods, casting long, dancing shadows on the forest floor. Aerion moved silently, his black cloak blending into the night, his steps purposeful but cautious. Behind him, Kael and Selene followed, weapons ready and eyes alert. The deeper they ventured, the stronger the sense of unease grew.
"These trees… they speak," Selene whispered, her hand tightening around her staff.
"They whisper warnings," Kael added, his voice grim. "This forest remembers blood."
Aerion said nothing. He had been here before—once, as a child, dragged by his mother during one of her desperate escapes. Even now, fragments of voices echoed in his mind: screams, sobs, and a haunting lullaby sung by a dying sorceress. The Whispering Woods weren't just dangerous. They were cursed.
A cold breeze rustled the leaves. Shadows flickered. Then came the sound—soft and broken—like sobbing carried by the wind.
Selene stopped abruptly. "Someone's crying."
"No," Aerion said sharply. "It's not someone. It's something."
Before they could react, the trees around them shifted. Dark tendrils, like mist, snaked from the ground, forming vague, humanoid figures. Hollow eyes opened in the darkness.
Wraiths.
Kael unsheathed his sword. "Damn it. Wraiths already? We haven't even reached the gate."
"They're drawn to power," Selene murmured. "And we're practically shining with it."
The Wraiths lunged.
Aerion raised his hand. Black flames burst from his palm, consuming one of the creatures mid-leap. Kael parried another with precise strikes, his blade glowing faintly blue. Selene whispered a chant, releasing a wave of light that scorched the surrounding shadow figures.
But for every Wraith they felled, more emerged. Their whispers grew louder, words forming from the chaos:
"He rises. He returns. He ends the light…"
Aerion felt it—something calling to him deeper within the woods. A voice he recognized from his dreams.
"Abyss-born… return to us…"
"Keep moving!" he shouted. "We're close!"
They carved a path through the shadowy swarm, driven not by desperation, but by something far more dangerous—destiny. The forest twisted around them, guiding them toward a broken altar deep within a glade. There, a strange relic pulsed faintly with abyssal energy: a fragment of the Void Crown.
Selene gasped. "That's… that's a piece of it."
The Void Crown—worn only by the rulers of the Abyss—had been shattered when Aerion's father was slain. This fragment hummed with memories of ancient power, calling to its heir.
Aerion stepped forward, his heart pounding.
The shadows recoiled.
Kael warned, "Are you sure about this?"
"No," Aerion said. "But I don't have a choice."
He reached out and touched the fragment. Darkness surged through his veins, visions flashing before his eyes—armies kneeling, worlds burning, a kingdom beneath the earth screaming his name.
Then silence.
The Wraiths dissipated instantly, the forest falling still.
Selene knelt, breathless. "You just… absorbed it."
Aerion turned slowly, his eyes darker, heavier. "That was just one piece."
Kael looked around. "How many are left?"
"Seven," Aerion whispered. "And each is guarded by something worse."
Far above, the moon vanished behind thick clouds. A storm was coming. And the Abyss King's path had only just begun.