Voices on the wind

As Lara ascends the narrow Moon Archwood trail, steepened by slick moss-covered stone and shifting earth that seems alive beneath her feet, a new presence begins to stir around her—whispers echoing not in words but in memories: laughter of children who once danced under this same moon; chants of guardians past; then sudden silence.

Then—she sees them: **the Hollow Watchers**, tall shadow figures cloaked in bark-skin armor woven from dead roots. They don't attack—but follow from a distance along ridges above, their hollow eyes glowing like dying embers whenever lightning splits the sky far below.

Halfway up the mountain pass guarded by twisted ironwood trees growing sideways out of rock walls—a creature appears unlike any other: **a lynx with antlers made of frost**, its breath crystallizing air even on this warm night. It doesn’t flee when Lara freezes—it bows low before her… then turns silently northward down a forked path unmarked on any map.

Guidance?

Trap?

She has no choice but to follow...

The frost-antlered lynx moves with unnatural silence, each step leaving behind faint shimmering ice patterns that melt as quickly as they form. Lara hesitates only a heartbeat before following—Kaeli’s warning still echoing in her mind.

*“Don’t turn back—even if shadows speak your name.”*

But now, it’s not just shadows.

As she takes the unmarked fork, the wind shifts—and suddenly voices rise from all around. Not whispers this time. *Clear.* Hauntingly familiar.

“Lara…”

Her mother’s voice—soft and warm—from years ago when she was still alive.

Then:

“*You don’t have to do this… Just go home.*”

She stops dead.

That voice—it's *her own*, but older. Weary. Speaking with regret she hasn't lived yet.

A cold knot tightens in her chest. These aren’t memories…

They’re temptations.

The path ahead slopes into a narrow ravine flanked by jagged stone columns that rise like broken teeth from the earth—ancient pillars carved long ago by forgotten hands, their surfaces etched with spiral glyphs pulsing faintly blue beneath moss and lichen.

And then—the lynx vanishes mid-step, dissolving into mist between one breath and the next… but not before turning its glowing silver eyes toward one of the pillars—the tallest at the ravine’s heart—with something like sorrow in its gaze.

Lara presses forward despite every instinct screaming to retreat. Her fingers trace the carvings on that central pillar… and gasps as vision floods back:

*A circle of robed figures under three moons.*

*An amulet placed upon stone—an offering.*

*Nyamwe—not monstrous—but weeping,* bound not by malice but by duty too heavy for one soul alone...

*"We asked you to stay,"* chants echo through memory.* "Now who will guard us when you sleep?"*

She staggers back—the truth crashing over her: **Nyamwe wasn’t imprisoned...

(To be continued…) 🌫️🦌🌙

Author: please feel free to commen & like my story &. Correct me when am wrong 🙏😊

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