The Tale of The Fallen Primordial

Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Sunless Ravine



By the time they reached the Sunless Ravine, the scorching heat of the desert had vanished, replaced by an unnatural, bone-chilling cold. Towering cliffs loomed on either side, their jagged surfaces stretching high enough to block out the sun. The entire valley seemed locked in perpetual twilight, the faintest slivers of light barely penetrating the dense shadows below. Twisted, dark vines clung to the cliff walls, their strange, rustling leaves betraying movement despite the absence of any wind.

"This place reeks of Black magic," Zuka muttered, his voice low and sharp. The chill in the air wasn't just physical—it carried a lingering, malevolent energy that prickled at his senses.

Noir descended beside him, his boots crunching softly against the rocky ground. His crimson eyes gleamed with interest as he surveyed their surroundings. "The Sunless Ravine," he said, his voice calm but edged with intrigue. "A cradle for shadows... and for secrets. Magic doesn't just die here, brother—it lingers, festering long after its caster has gone."

As the group ventured deeper into the ravine, an eerie sound began to drift through the air. At first, it was faint, a whisper that could have been mistaken for the sigh of distant wind. But the further they descended, the louder it grew, rising into a chorus of murmurs that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

One of the Dragonoid soldiers faltered mid-flight, his voice trembling as he asked, "What is that?"

"The voices of the past," Noir replied, his tone casual but unsettling. He tilted his head as though listening more closely. "Spirits bound to this place by the magic they wielded in life. Or, perhaps, the magic that consumed them. Tell me... what are they saying to you?"

The soldier didn't respond, his eyes darting nervously toward the oppressive darkness below.

Zuka remained focused, his golden eyes fixed on the faintly visible path ahead. Still, even he couldn't deny the heavy, suffocating energy that pulsed through the ravine. It was alive—pulsing like a heartbeat, each thrum vibrating with an unspoken warning.

"They're saying we don't belong here," Kaizen muttered, his voice tense as his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Noir smirked, his sharp teeth glinting faintly in the twilight. "Or perhaps," he said, his voice taking on an almost playful tone, "they're asking us to stay, Kaizen. Inviting us to join them, to see what lies beyond the veil."

The whispers grew louder with each step, overlapping until it became impossible to distinguish one voice from another. It was as though the air itself carried their words, wrapping around the group and pressing against their ears. The soldiers flew closer together, their movements growing tighter and more synchronized as the ravine's oppressive aura took hold of their nerves.

But as the group approached the exit, the voices reached a deafening crescendo, only to fall silent the moment they stepped into the open air. The stillness that followed was almost jarring, the absence of the whispers leaving an uncanny void.

The world beyond the Sunless Ravine was a stark contrast to the twilight depths they had just escaped. Rolling green hills stretched out before them, bathed in the warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun. The fertile lands of Jordan were lush and inviting, a sea of verdant beauty that seemed untouched by the horrors they had passed through.

In the distance, the capital city rose proudly against the horizon. Its gleaming walls and towering spires reached toward the heavens, a testament to human ambition. The city glimmered in the sunlight like a beacon of civilization, its presence almost defiant in its splendor.

"This is Jordan," Zuka said, his voice calm but edged with the weight of what lay ahead. His golden eyes scanned the kingdom, taking in the spires and bustling roads. "The place where everything begins."

Noir landed beside him, his wings folding elegantly against his back. His gaze swept across the horizon, a mixture of amusement and curiosity flickering in his crimson eyes. "Humans always build so high," he remarked, his voice soft but laden with irony. "Reaching for the heavens, as if they've forgotten the shadows crawling at their feet."

Zuka cast him a sidelong glance. "Are you always going to speak in riddles?" he asked, his tone halfway between exasperation and humor.

Noir's lips curled into a wider smile. "Riddles are how the wise hide their truths from the foolish," he said with a faint laugh. "But for you, my foolish brother... perhaps someday I'll give you a straight answer."

Zuka turned his attention back to the city, his expression thoughtful. The weight of the journey ahead pressed against him, heavy and inevitable. "Someday," he murmured, his voice low but resolute.

Noir said nothing, though his grin lingered as the brothers stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the distant city where destiny awaited.


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