The Last Nightmare

The silence pressed in on Nate like a living thing.

Not the silence of an empty room, nor the quiet hush of the wind-still night. This was something else—something deeper. A silence that felt wrong, as if the very air held its breath.

The shrine had been abandoned for centuries, maybe longer. Dust lay thick over the cracked stone floors, untouched by time, as though the past had frozen in reverence to whatever had once ruled this place. The walls, carved with ancient symbols, bore the weight of forgotten prayers. And yet, beneath the dust and decay, something remained.

A presence.

He felt it before he heard it.

A whisper.

Soft. Indistinct.

It came from nowhere. Everywhere.

Nate stilled, his breath caught in his throat. His hand went instinctively to Selis, the sword strapped to his back. The weapon had been his companion for years, forged in battle and bound to his very soul. Yet as his fingers curled around its hilt, something sent a shiver up his spine.

Selis was trembling.

Not a physical shake, but something deeper—an unease buried in the very essence of the blade. The violet runes etched along its surface flickered uncertainly, their glow erratic.

Selis had never reacted to anything like this before. Not in war, not in bloodshed, not even in the face of death.

Now, for the first time…

It was afraid.

The realization settled in his gut like ice.

"What the hell is going on?"

His voice barely broke the oppressive stillness. He tightened his grip on the sword, pulse hammering against his ribs. Every instinct screamed at him to leave. To turn back.

But something kept him rooted.

A whisper, curling through his mind. Not a voice. Not a thought.

A presence.

Watching. Waiting.

Nate exhaled sharply, steadying himself. He wasn't here by accident. Something had led him to this place. Something wanted him to see.

His gaze drifted across the chamber, drawn to the farthest wall. A mural.

Cracked. Worn. Yet enough of it remained.

He stepped forward. Selis trembled again. A silent warning.

But he ignored it.

His fingertips brushed the stone.

And the world shattered.

---

A force ripped through his mind.

Nate's breath caught, his vision blurred, and the shrine vanished.

The dust. The ruins. The cold air.

Everything dissolved into fire.

Screams echoed across a city that no longer existed.

The world before him was alive—a city of towering structures, their spires piercing the heavens. Gleaming stonework stretched beneath an obsidian sky, illuminated by the glow of floating lanterns. The streets bustled with figures draped in flowing robes, their eyes marked with strange sigils. And at the heart of it all stood the shrine.

No longer ruined. No longer forgotten.

It stood whole, bathed in violet light, its altar pulsating with divine energy.

Nate felt the reverence of the people. The awe in their eyes. The way they knelt before the monolithic figure at the center of the city.

A god without form.

Wrapped in darkness.

A being whose very presence stretched beyond the limits of perception.

Their god.

Nate's chest tightened. He couldn't see its face, its body. It wasn't a figure—it was a presence. A weight in the air, pressing down on everything around it. The shadows deepened in its wake, bending to its will.

It wasn't simply darkness.

It was power.

But then, the vision shifted.

Fire.

Blazing. Merciless.

The sky split open, torn apart by divine wrath. A storm of golden flames rained down, consuming the city in an instant.

Nate felt the terror. The betrayal.

This wasn't war.

It was extermination.

The people who had once knelt in worship now burned, their screams lost in the roaring inferno.

He saw them beg.

They fell to their knees before the Fire God, hands raised in desperate prayer.

But there was no salvation.

The flames did not discriminate. They devoured priests and warriors, children and elders. The city melted, its history erased in divine fire.

And at the center of it all—

The God of Darkness stood alone.

Its form shattered,and power ripped away.

And then—

Sealed.

Not by fate.

By divine chains forged in fire.

Nate's breath hitched.

This wasn't just a forgotten city.

It had been purged.

Erased.

His gaze moved to the last part of the mural, but deep gashes had been cut through the stone. Deliberate. As if someone had wanted to destroy the final truth.

Only a single name remained, faintly carved beneath the ruin.

"God of Darkness."

Nate felt a chill crawl up his spine.

This wasn't just a shrine.

It was a graveyard.

And something had been buried here alive.

---

The vision shattered.

Nate gasped for air, his lungs burning as if he had truly breathed in the ashes of that lost civilization. His body trembled, his mind reeling from what he had seen.

The shrine's silence was absolute once more, but the air had changed.

It was heavier. Denser. As if the very fabric of the world had shifted.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his thoughts.

That wasn't just a vision.

It had felt real.

As if he had been there, witnessing history itself unfold.

He clenched his teeth, forcing his breath to steady.

The God of Darkness had been betrayed.

Her name erased.

Her power sealed.

And now—

Something was waking up.

Selis trembled in his grasp, the runes along its blade now pulsing with violet light.

Nate felt it before he saw it.

A shift in the air. A pressure deep in his chest.

Then—

The shrine shook.

Dust cascaded from the ceiling. The ancient carvings began to glow, pulsing like a heartbeat.

And then—

The whisper.

No longer a whisper.

A voice.

Low. Cold. Ancient.

It spoke not in words, but in raw existence.

"Who are you, mortal? You wake me from my slumber."

The ground split beneath Nate's feet. Darkness spilled forth like a flood, curling around the ruined chamber.

A presence uncoiled.

Something vast.

Something forgotten.

A deep, endless void.

And then—

Two eyes opened within the abyss.

Their gaze pierced through reality itself.

A hunger, vast and immeasurable.

A being that had once been worshiped—and then betrayed.

A god who had not forgotten.

A god who had waited.

And now—

She was awake.