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Chapter 17 – Whispers of Shadows

As the sky bathed in the first light of morning, silence within the camp began to stir, like a slumbering beast stretching after a dreamless night. Dewdrops glittered at the tips of grass blades, and a delicate veil of mist danced between distant mountains. V sat alone upon a small stone at the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his mind flooded with voices he could no longer silence. The darkness within him stirred—not to consume, but to warn. This time, it whispered.

Footsteps approached—familiar and rhythmic. Graceful, yet strong. Thena moved silently to V’s side, a flask adorned with fine metallic engravings in her hand. She extended it.

“Water,” she said softly. “I know you don’t drink it… but sometimes, we drink just to remember.”

V took the flask, bowed his head slightly, and took a sip. Then, turning his eyes to Thena, he murmured, “To remember? Since when have we truly tried to forget?”

Thena lifted her gaze to the sky. “We always pretend to forget. Remembering… requires courage.”

Silence fell between them. Only the wind echoed through the stones. Then V asked:

“What happened to Ajak? No one speaks of her. But I know the grief in your eyes carries her name.”

Thena’s face tensed. Her eyelids grew heavy, her jaw clenched. And then, in a hushed voice, she began to speak:

“That night, the stars were falling. The sky was silent… but the earth trembled. Ajak was with us—our guide, our anchor. She was the core of our faith. But Phoros… his darkness wasn’t just of the flesh—it was of the spirit. He broke us from within. When Ajak went to face him, she went alone. Her choice. She offered peace. But… she never returned.”

V’s hands slowly clenched. “Peace. What an ancient and hollow word it’s become.”

Thena lowered her head. “We recovered her body. But her soul… was shattered in Phoros’ grasp. Ajak’s eyes were open. Even in her final breath, she searched for hope.”

V did not answer for a long while. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper: “There was light in her chest. But now the world is wrapped in darkness. To restore that light… a price must be paid.”

That morning, the camp was broken down. Tents were folded, ammunition packed, maps redrawn. The Eternals marched forward into a future woven with shadow, more cautious and united than ever before. V climbed atop Griffon’s back; his eyes scanned the distant forests and valleys. Thena walked beside him, Sersi carried the map, Ikaris watched from above. Makkari patrolled the perimeter in silence. Each was a warrior, but in their hearts echoed not the thirst for battle—but the weight of an inevitable end.

Days passed. Forests were crossed, rivers forded. Nights were painted with tales of darkness around the campfire. But the unrest growing inside V deepened with each step. Shadows whispered more than usual; their echoes clouded his mind. His eyes darted at every flicker of darkness, and his heart tightened with a strange foreboding.

Just before dawn on the third night, V awoke with a sudden jolt. His eyes snapped open to the dark—but this night’s darkness bore something else. A voice echoed by his ear, vile and cold—whispers that crawled from the shadows.

“Destroyed… No place left… All has turned to ash…”

V’s eyes gleamed. Griffon stirred restlessly near the tent. V seized his staff and rushed outside. The Eternals had not yet woken, but the shadows painted a vision in his mind: a massive burn mark at the heart of a settlement, lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, and a black-armored figure—Lord Phoros.

Without a word, V leapt onto Griffon’s back. The creature ascended instantly, wings slicing the sky. V’s eyes swirled with fury.

Thena, waking from her slumber, caught sight of him. “V! What’s happening?!”

Only one word fell from his lips: “The settlement…”

As V soared through the heavens like a fallen star, the Eternals sprang into action. Ikaris shot into the skies, Makkari surged forward like a tempest. Thena, Sersi, Druig, and the others followed with horses and swift-moving vehicles. None could match V’s speed—but something else kept them close: a will born of hope and fear entwined.

As hours passed, smoke began to stain the sky. A dark mist rose on the horizon. The forest was ablaze. Rivers had dried. And at last… they arrived.

When V dismounted from Griffon, his breath caught like a blade in his chest. His eyes, upon witnessing the ruin, collapsed into silence. The settlement was gone. The earth was soaked in dried blood. Trees had fallen, homes shattered to dust. Darkness had devoured it all. But the most haunting sight… stood at the center.

Upon a colossal platform wrought from obsidian stone, hundreds of figures were arrayed. All faced the same direction. All stood in the same grim silence. At first, V did not understand. But as Thena stepped closer, she whispered:

“They’re all… they’ve all become part of Phoros’ army.”

And at their heart, seated upon a throne woven from shadowed steel, a figure cloaked in black armor turned his gaze upon them. Lord Phoros—his eyes glowed with crimson flame, and a twisted smile curled his lips.

“Welcome,” echoed a voice that shattered the silence. “Forgive the delay… but the feast has already begun.”

Something within V broke. It rose from the shadows. His eyes dimmed into darkness, and his staff ignited with black flame. This time, the battle was not just for vengeance… but for the scream of everything that had been lost.