Shadows of the Forgotten

The night stretched longer than it should have. The forest, once dark, now breathed shadows into life. Ash swirled like restless spirits around Alden’s feet, whispering secrets he didn’t want to hear. The deeper he ventured, the heavier the air became, thick with the scent of burned wood and old regret.

But it wasn’t the ash that weighed him down. It was the name.

Liora.

It clung to him, heavy as a chain. A name he should have remembered, but couldn't. A promise he might have made, but couldn't recall. Each step felt like betrayal, but to whom, he didn't know.

He stumbled into a clearing, the ground bare save for a single stone, half-buried and cracked. The mist parted as if in reverence, revealing the ruin of an old monument. A pillar, charred and broken, stood defiant against the consuming ash.

Carved into its base were ancient symbols, faded by time but still pulsing with a strange, cold power. As Alden’s hand reached out, the symbols glowed faintly beneath his fingertips.

The shadow’s voice stirred within him. You forget because you fear.

Fear. The word settled deep into his bones.

Alden clenched his jaw, pushing back the rising panic. He wasn’t afraid. He couldn't be. Not now. Not when the shadows hunted him, and his past clawed at the edges of his mind.

Yet the ground trembled beneath his feet, as though mocking his resolve.

Then came the sound. A sharp, hollow beat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It wasn’t his heart. It was something older. Deeper. Beneath the earth.

Alden’s hand hovered over his sword, fingers twitching. The shadows swirled thicker, writhing like serpents, whispering his name with a lover’s intimacy.

And then the ash parted.

From the earth, a figure rose. Not of flesh, but of shadow and dust. Its face was hidden beneath a dark hood, but its eyes burned—bright, golden, and filled with unspoken rage.

It was her.

No. Not her. But shaped like her. Liora.

Or what was left of her.

The figure’s hand extended, long fingers dripping with shadow.

“You left me,” it said, voice layered with grief and accusation. “You promised you'd return.”

Alden’s throat went dry. He stepped back, his heel brushing against the stone. “Who are you?”

The figure’s head tilted, as if confused. Or amused.

“I am what you forgot.”

The wind howled, tearing through the clearing, and with it came a thousand voices. All whispering the same name. Liora.

Pain stabbed behind Alden’s eyes, a sharp, tearing sensation that ripped through his mind. He saw flashes. Images not his own. A field bathed in crimson light. A woman’s scream. His hands, covered in ash, reaching out but grasping nothing.

Then—darkness.

The figure stepped closer. Shadows coiled around her like living armor. “You let me burn.”

“No!” Alden growled, though doubt burned in his chest. “I don’t remember… I didn’t—”

The figure's laugh was soft, broken. “That is your curse. To forget. To run. And now... to pay.”

Before he could react, the shadow struck. A tendril lashed out, slicing across his arm. The pain was immediate, sharp and searing. The wound didn’t bleed—it burned with cold fire, ash sinking into his skin like poison.

Alden staggered, clutching his arm. But the pain wasn’t just physical. It tore into his thoughts, digging for memories. Memories he had buried.

And beneath the agony, a whisper rose.

You left her.

You burned her.

You broke your promise.

"No!" Alden roared, but the shadow didn’t stop. It pressed closer, hunger radiating from it like heat.

"You will remember," it hissed. "Or you will burn again."

With a burst of desperate strength, Alden slashed his sword. The blade tore through the shadow, but instead of dissipating, it split, recoiling with a shriek that made his bones ache. The figure reformed, the wound knitting itself together like water sealing a breach.

"You cannot kill what you are bound to."

And in that moment, Alden understood.

This wasn’t an enemy. Not truly.

It was a memory. A curse. A shadow born of his own forgetting.

And it wasn’t going to let him go.

The shadow lunged again, but this time, Alden didn’t strike. He dropped his sword and stood still, arms at his sides, heart hammering.

"I don’t remember," he said quietly. "But I want to."

The shadow froze. Mist curled at its feet. Its shape flickered, unstable. A scream echoed through the clearing—a sound of pain and betrayal.

And then it was gone.

Dissolved into ash.

Alden dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. His arm throbbed, but the pain was distant now. Beneath the stone, the symbols glowed brighter. And a single line of text appeared beneath them.

"Only in remembrance shall the shadow break."

Alden stared. His heart pounded. He knew what he had to do.

Find the truth.

Face it.

Or be consumed by it.

As he stood, his gaze turned to the horizon. The forest stretched endlessly, but somewhere in its heart lay the answer. The memory he had lost. The promise he had broken.

And the shadow that waited to devour him.

But Alden wasn’t running anymore.

He picked up his sword, the ash still clinging to its blade, and walked into the darkness.

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