Golden odyssey

The light turned to darkness.

Eryndal felt himself being pulled in, swallowed by the force of a vortex that had neither shape nor direction. His eyes had closed, yet he knew this was no ordinary darkness. He could hear the hurried breaths of his companions, sense their agitation, but everything seemed distant, as if their voices were fading into an endless echo.

He tried to focus, to understand where he was, but a deep dizziness overtook him, as vast as the abyss into which he was falling. It was as if the entire universe was suspended around him. The weight of the creature, the weight of the hooded man, pressed down on his shoulders. Each thought seemed to dissolve into the growing void, each memory shattering into fragments.

Then, suddenly, a flicker of light.

His eyes opened.

They were in a place he did not recognize. Around them stretched a vast, barren plain, an endless horizon. The ground was covered in ash, a landscape that could have belonged to a dying world. There was no vegetation, no life—only a deep, oppressive silence that filled every particle of air.

His companions' faces were tense, their gazes scanning this new environment with palpable unease. The hooded man, however, remained unaffected. He stood there, calm, arms crossed, observing the scene with an unsettling tranquility.

— Where are we? Darek asked, breaking the silence. His voice, usually strong and confident, sounded fragile, uncertain.

The hooded man slowly turned his head toward him, a faint smile forming beneath his hood. He had yet to reveal his face, yet every movement, every gesture, carried an unfathomable weight.

— You are where the truth begins to unfold. Where the world as you know it fractures. You stand at the threshold of the end, he said, his voice calm but laden with infinite meaning.

Alessia stepped forward, her brows furrowed. She was no longer the uncertain young woman she had once been. The tension, the pain she had endured after the sacrifice—it had made her more resolute, fiercer.

— You speak in riddles, she said defiantly. What does all of this mean? Are we supposed to understand something, or is this just another mystery?

The hooded man regarded her for a moment, a fleeting glint of amusement in his unseen eyes.

— Understand? There are things the human mind cannot grasp.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each of them.

— You have crossed a threshold, a point of no return. You chose to learn what was never meant to be known. And now, the threads of fate are unraveling.

A deep rumble echoed through the air. The space around them distorted, like a spider's web twisting under an invisible force. The horizon fractured, and cracks spread across the ground, emitting a reddish glow—one eerily similar to the light on Eryndal's palm.

— What do you mean by that? Elion demanded, his stance shifting as if preparing for an attack, his hand sliding toward his staff. But his gaze remained sharp, as though perceiving something the others could not.

The creature, though still present in the air, seemed to fade, merging with the darkness around them. It had not moved, yet its essence, its influence, remained—tangible, undeniable.

The hooded man's voice resonated again, deeper, graver.

— Truth comes at a price.

He raised a hand, and a tear appeared in the sky—a rift leading to another world.

Through it, a vision of a distant past unfolded. A ruined world. A kingdom burned to its foundations. Civilizations reduced to dust, realms where magic had consumed everything they had once loved.

Eryndal felt his chest tighten. He finally understood. The sacrifice was not just the loss of soul or life. He had sacrificed their future, their dreams of a better world. They were now witnesses to a terrible truth—a truth so heavy it threatened to crush them.

— You are witnesses to a cycle that repeats itself.

The hooded man's voice was unwavering.

— A cycle of destruction and renewal. Every generation has made the same choice. You sacrificed a part of yourselves to gain ancient knowledge, but you are merely pioneers on a path others have already walked. You are doomed to watch the same mistakes unfold, to witness the end of everything you hold dear.

A scream pierced the air—a strangled voice emerging from the darkness.

Eryndal turned sharply.

In the distance, a figure emerged—a familiar silhouette. A man, yet twisted, broken, bearing the marks of a sacrifice far older than theirs. He moved toward them, slowly, pain etched into every part of his being.

— The past always returns, murmured the hooded man, his eyes glowing with something almost melancholic.

— And with it, the shadows of choices long made.

The figure drew closer. His features had blurred, his face a mask of suffering. He was like an echo of the future—a vision of what Eryndal and his companions would become if they failed to break this cycle.

The wind howled.

The ashes swirled around them.

And the red light on Eryndal's palm burned brighter than ever.

The choice they had made, the price they had paid—had it been the key to their salvation… or their eternal damnation?

"The tension rises as new revelations emerge about the consequences of the sacrifice. The characters now face the horror of what they have unleashed and the realization that they are trapped in an endless cycle…"