The Last Nightmare

The shrine shook.

Cracks splintered along the stone floor, thin at first, then widening into jagged, gaping wounds. A deep rumble resonated through the chamber—less a sound and more a vibration that crawled beneath Nate's skin, shaking him from the inside out.

His breath came in slow, measured beats. His heartbeat, however, was anything but steady.

The shadows spilling from the ground were no longer mere tricks of light.

They moved.

They slithered like living veins of darkness, pulsing, twisting, breathing. The air was thick with something ancient, something wrong—as if the laws of the world had begun to fray at the edges.

And then—

A voice.

Not spoken. Not heard.

Felt.

A whisper laced with the weight of centuries, sliding into Nate's mind like a dagger wrapped in silk.

"You… awakened me."

The words sent a tremor down his spine. They did not echo in the chamber—they bypassed sound itself, reverberating straight into his thoughts.

Nate gritted his teeth, his heart hammering against his ribs. He forced himself to steady his breathing, but it was like trying to stay calm while drowning.

His instincts screamed at him to run.

To turn away.

To leave this place buried.

But he couldn't.

He had seen the vision.

He had witnessed fire rain from the heavens, a civilization wiped from existence, its god chained and forsaken.

And now, that god stood before him.

Awake.

Watching.

Waiting.

Nate took a slow step back. The ground creaked beneath his boots, the cracked stone shifting under his weight. He tightened his grip on Selis, but the sword's violet runes flickered erratically—unstable, uncertain.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice steady despite the cold terror creeping up his spine.

The darkness pulsed. A presence unfurled, stretching outward like unseen tendrils brushing against reality itself.

Then—

The eyes opened.

Not two. Not three.

Many.

A ring of glowing violet irises burned within the abyss, their light cold and infinite. Their gaze was neither cruel nor kind—it was something beyond human comprehension. A will that had once ruled, once been worshiped, once been betrayed.

A god whose name had been erased from history.

"You speak my name, mortal?"

Nate swallowed, the weight of those words pressing into his skull.

"I don't know your name," he admitted.

The air trembled.

A soundless laugh, or perhaps a whisper of amusement.

"They have done well to bury it. Even the world itself forgets."

The shrine walls shuddered, the ancient carvings glowing violet, fragments of long-forgotten symbols flickering to life. For a moment, Nate saw glimpses—images seared into his mind.

A throne shrouded in twilight.

A goddess standing before her people, her presence alone commanding the heavens.

Then—chains of fire, wrapping around her existence, burning, branding, sealing.

The vision faded as fast as it came, leaving only a heavy silence in its wake.

He witnessed fire rain from the heavens, a civilization wiped from existence, its god chained and forsaken.

"You…" The voice was velvet and abyss, each syllable brushing against the edges of his mind. "You are… different."

Nate clenched his fists. He couldn't move—not because of fear, but because something held him in place.

The weight of her gaze was suffocating, like standing before a presence too vast to comprehend.

And yet—

He did not bow.

He refused to.

The pressure in the air grew heavier. The eyes within the abyss narrowed, shifting with a quiet, unsettling intensity.

"Mortal. You stand before me. You saw my past. My ruin.

And yet, you do not bow."

Nate clenched his jaw. Something within him resisted.

Not out of arrogance. Not out of pride.

But out of instinct.

Every part of him knew—this was not a being meant to be worshiped.

It was a force.

A storm.

A god who had been cast down, stripped of everything, sealed away to be forgotten.

A goddess who would not stay forgotten much longer.

"I'm not your follower," Nate said carefully. "I'm not your enemy either."

A pause.

"You were sealed away," Nate said slowly, keeping himself together.

Another long pause.

Then—

A whisper of amusement.

"And you have undone the first chain."

Nate's breath hitched.

The first chain?

Did that mean—

A low hum vibrated through the chamber. The cracks along the floor deepened, and a faint, pulsing sigil appeared beneath Nate's feet. The same sigil that had been carved into the mural—though now, it was whole, unbroken.

Something had changed.

He had changed something.

A sliver of understanding began to form in Nate's mind. This shrine had been a prison, not just a ruin. His mere presence had weakened its bindings.

"I didn't mean to free you."

"And yet, you have."

The violet eyes narrowed slightly. Then—

She stepped forward.

Or perhaps she never moved at all, yet was suddenly closer.

"Tell me, mortal. What do you seek?"

The question struck him harder than expected.

What did he seek?

Power?

Knowledge?

Freedom?

Strength to protect what was his?

Nate hesitated.

And that was answer enough.

The shadows curled around her, slow and deliberate, as if weaving something unseen.

"You walk a path of uncertain fate."

"Your soul bears neither chains nor oaths."

"And yet… something within you calls to me."

The abyss shifted.

Nate felt it.

A pull.

A connection.

And then—pain.

A sharp, searing heat shot through his chest, right over his core. His knees nearly buckled, but he held firm. He grit his teeth, his breath turning ragged.

Something was burning inside him.

No—not burning.

Awakening.

The darkness flowed toward him, not consuming, but merging.

"Take it."

Her voice was closer now, barely a whisper against his skin.

"My essence. My bloodline. My power—"

"A fragment of what was stolen from me."

The moment she spoke, the pain exploded.

Something within him tore open—not breaking, but expanding.

His veins burned black and violet, his vision flickering between the present and something older.

Something deeper.

Memories that were not his.

A thousand voices whispering in a language he should not understand, yet did.

A throne lost.

A war undone.

A promise unfulfilled.

He gasped as raw power surged through him.

And then—

Silence.

The pain vanished.

The connection remained.

Nate fell to one knee, breathing hard, his entire body trembling.

The shrine was silent once more.

The shadows—still.

Yet he felt it.

The mark had not just claimed him.

Something had changed inside him.

Something new had been born.

He looked down at his hands, fingers trembling.

And there—

Etched into his skin, woven into his very being—

A sigil pulsed.

A bloodline had been awakened.

And the Goddess of Darkness… had chosen him.

She watched him in silence for a moment. Then—

"Rise, mortal."

"Our fates are now entwined."

A flicker of something unreadable in her many eyes.

Expectation.

Curiosity.

Perhaps even amusement.

But beneath it all, something else lurked.

Something vast.

Unknowable.

As Nate stood on unsteady legs, something inside him pulsed.

A coldness settled into his chest—not painful, not foreign—just different.

His shadow rippled once before stilling.

For a moment, just a moment, his own eyes flashed violet.

He swallowed hard.

What had she given him?

And what—

Would it cost?

The voice came one last time, its presence curling around the edges of his mind like the whisper of an unseen tide.

"Mortal. We will speak again."

And then—

The shadows receded.

The abyss vanished.

The shrine's trembling ceased, the glow in the walls fading to nothing. The only proof that anything had happened at all was the sigil now etched into his skin.

Nate exhaled.

And for the first time in his life—

He realized he was no longer just walking his own path.

Something else was walking with him.