The Shards of Fate

Aedan didn't sleep that night.

He sat by the window of the small inn, staring out into the moonlit village. The cobbled streets were empty, the buildings silent as if the entire place had been abandoned. But the shadows—he could feel them shifting, pressing against the edges of his vision.

He had always been good at ignoring his gut instincts. But this time? His instincts screamed that something was watching.

Kael lay sprawled on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, breathing slow and steady. As reckless and loud as he could be, he had an annoying ability to sleep through anything.

Aedan envied him.

The old woman's words rang in his mind.

"Once you hear it, it never leaves you."

He clenched his fists, trying to push away the lingering dread. The shard still pulsed in his palm, its warmth oddly comforting—but was it his now, or did it belong to something else entirely?

Aedan let out a slow breath and forced himself to stand. He wasn't going to get any sleep, so he might as well clear his head.

Carefully, he grabbed his cloak and stepped outside.

The night air was cold and still. The sky above was a deep, endless black, with only a few pale stars piercing through the vast emptiness.

Aedan walked through the village, keeping his steps light. The silence was unnatural. The houses looked abandoned, the windows dark like empty sockets. It felt as though the entire place was holding its breath.

As he passed the ruined chapel, a sharp pain lanced through his skull.

Aedan staggered, clutching his head. His vision swam—darkness creeping at the edges, whispering.

Then—

A flash.

A shadow standing in the distance, its form flickering like candlelight.

A voice. Low, distorted, familiar.

"You are not ready."

Aedan gasped as his vision snapped back to reality. He was on his knees, breathing hard. The pain was gone, but the cold lingered in his bones.

He turned his head sharply.

The street was empty. No figures. No whispers. Just the faint rustling of the wind.

Aedan exhaled shakily. He needed to leave this place.

Now.

By dawn, Aedan and Kael had packed their things.

The old woman stood at the entrance of the inn, watching them with the quiet patience of someone who had seen too many people walk the same doomed path.

Kael adjusted the sword on his back. "So what now? We go looking for more of these shards?"

Aedan hesitated. He didn't want to, but something told him he didn't have a choice anymore.

"They're already looking for us," he muttered. "Might as well figure out what the hell they actually are before something else does."

The old woman smiled faintly. "Then I hope you're ready."

Aedan frowned. "For what?"

Her gaze flickered past him—toward the road leading out of the village, where the trees seemed to stretch higher than they should, their branches curling like skeletal fingers.

"For the things that are already waiting."

Aedan turned toward the road, unease curling in his stomach. The forest loomed ahead, dark and endless.

He had a feeling their journey had only just begun.

The road ahead stretched into the dense forest, where the gnarled trees swayed without wind, their bark dark as charcoal. Mist clung low to the ground, winding through the roots like grasping fingers.

Kael groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't like this. Feels like we're walking straight into a damn horror story."

Aedan huffed, gripping the strap of his pack. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

The old woman remained by the inn's doorway, watching them with an expression Aedan couldn't quite place. It wasn't pity. It wasn't even concern.

It was expectation.

"You'll want to keep moving once you enter that forest," she said. "Don't stop, don't turn back, and whatever you do—" her gaze locked onto Aedan, "—if you hear something whisper your name, ignore it."

Kael shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, see, that's not the kind of advice that makes me feel better about this."

Aedan gave the old woman a final nod before stepping onto the path. "Thanks for the warning."

"Don't thank me." Her voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper. "Not yet."

The weight of her words lingered as Aedan and Kael left the village behind..

The first hour passed in relative silence, aside from the occasional rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth.

Kael had his hand on the hilt of his sword the entire time. "I don't like this. It's too quiet."

Aedan didn't disagree.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. It wasn't just quiet—it was wrong.

The forest seemed to shift when he wasn't looking. Trees that should have been behind them now loomed ahead. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, curling across the ground like reaching limbs.

Something was watching.

Aedan's grip tightened on the shard in his pocket. Its warmth pulsed steadily against his palm, grounding him.

Kael exhaled through his nose. "Alright, I can't take this anymore. This place is messing with my head."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small metal flask, taking a swig before offering it to Aedan.

Aedan gave him a skeptical look. "You're drinking now?"

Kael shrugged. "Either I drink, or I start screaming. Your choice."

Aedan rolled his eyes but took the flask. The burn of alcohol chased away the lingering cold.

The path ahead twisted, leading toward an ancient archway of stone, half-buried in vines. The carvings were faded, but Aedan could still make out the symbols.

He froze.

He had seen them before.

On the shard.

A low hum filled the air, vibrating through his bones.

Kael tensed. "Do you hear that?"

Aedan didn't respond. He was already moving, stepping closer to the archway, drawn forward by an unseen force.

Then—

A breath against his ear.

"Aedan."

His blood ran cold.

It was his own voice.

Spoken from behind him.

Aedan's entire body went rigid. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to look—

Kael grabbed his shoulder. "Don't." His voice was tight, serious. "We keep walking. Now."

Aedan swallowed hard, forcing himself to move. His skin crawled as the whispering grew fainter, melting into the trees.

The old woman's warning echoed in his mind.

"If you hear something whisper your name, ignore it."

They passed under the archway. The hum ceased.

The forest beyond was different. The air was thicker, heavier. The trees loomed taller, their branches twisting in unnatural shapes. The path no longer looked like something meant for people to walk—it was ancient, cracked stone, half-swallowed by moss.

Aedan exhaled, trying to steady himself. "What the hell was that?"

Kael shook his head. "I don't know, but let's not stick around to find out."

They pressed on.

Somewhere behind them, something shifted in the trees.

And whispered his name again.