Chapter 302
Dain couldn’t escape the feeling that something was wrong. Every day, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon began to rise, he could sense it—the pull. It was faint at first, like the brush of wind against his skin. But lately, it had grown stronger, a weight he could no longer ignore. The Moon Shard.
He sat by the window of his cabin, staring out into the vast forest that stretched endlessly before him. The moonlight bathed the landscape in a silver glow, its light penetrating the trees like a searchlight. But it wasn’t the moon that had him captivated; it was the shard. He could feel it calling to him, hidden somewhere in the woods, its presence like a magnet to his soul.
His fingers itched at the thought. The Moon Shard had been in his family for generations, passed down through his ancestors with caution and reverence. It was said to hold unimaginable power, a force capable of reshaping fate itself. But what power it truly possessed remained a mystery, one that no one had dared to fully uncover. Until now.
Dain had always felt its presence, like a faint pulse deep within his chest. But ever since he had touched it, the pull had become impossible to ignore. Every night, it grew stronger, as if the shard itself were awakening from a deep slumber. He wasn’t sure why, but he could feel it now—its pulse calling him. The closer the moon got to its peak, the stronger the pull became.
It wasn’t just the power that drew him in—it was the darkness. The shard radiated a strange, ominous energy, one that Dain couldn’t quite place. It was not the light of the moon he felt, but something darker, older, hiding beneath the surface. There was a whisper on the edge of his consciousness, a voice that barely reached his ears but seemed to claw at the edges of his mind.
The pull grew unbearable. Dain pushed away from the window and stood up, pacing the room in frustration. He had to know. He had to understand what the shard wanted from him. The air was thick with tension, and every step he took felt heavier, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to turn around and flee, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.
The whispers came again, faint but insistent. They were growing louder, clearer.
“Dain… come…”
He froze, his heart skipping a beat. The voice was no longer distant, but close—intimate. He knew it wasn’t his imagination. The shard was speaking to him, calling to him. There was no turning back.
Grabbing his cloak, he stormed out of the cabin, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The wind howled through the trees, but Dain hardly noticed. His mind was consumed by the shard, its power pulling him forward, drawing him deeper into the heart of the forest.
The moon hung high in the sky now, a brilliant orb that illuminated the path ahead. Dain’s breath misted in the cold air as he moved with purpose, following the unseen thread that guided him. It wasn’t long before he arrived at the ancient clearing where the shard had been hidden for centuries. The stones that circled the clearing were worn with age, their surface etched with symbols he couldn’t read. In the center of the clearing, a small altar stood, and there, glowing with an eerie light, lay the shard.
Dain hesitated, his breath caught in his throat. The shard pulsed with energy, its glow flickering like a heartbeat, and his chest tightened with anticipation. The air around him seemed to hum, charged with an invisible force. He stepped forward slowly, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
His fingers trembled as he reached out and brushed the smooth surface of the shard. The moment his skin made contact, a surge of power shot through him, sending a shockwave through his entire body. His vision blurred, and he staggered back, his hand still tingling with the lingering energy. He could feel the shard’s presence deep inside him, seeping into his bones, filling him with a strange fire.
The whispers intensified, now a chorus of voices that filled his mind, drowning out all other sound. They were frantic, urgent, and yet somehow soothing, wrapping around him like a shroud. He couldn’t tell if they were speaking words, or if it was the shard itself communicating directly with his soul. But he could feel it—a deep, dark power rising within him.
“You are the chosen one…” the voice whispered, clearer now, deeper.
Dain closed his eyes, trying to ground himself. The power surged again, overwhelming him. He stumbled to his knees, his body trembling with the force of it. He felt the shard’s grip tightening on him, pulling him closer to something he couldn’t fully comprehend.
His breath was shallow as he fought to regain control, but the pull was unrelenting. The energy coursing through him was both terrifying and intoxicating, and he couldn’t tear himself away.
The whispers grew louder, more insistent. They surrounded him, filled his every thought, until there was nothing else but their voices.
And then, through the chaos of the whispers, one word pierced through the haze:
“The shadow is yours.”
Dain’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes snapped open. The shard pulsed with a sudden, violent surge of energy, its glow intensifying until it almost blinded him. The darkness that had lingered in the background now consumed him entirely, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak.
He gasped, his chest heaving as the weight of the words sank in. The shadow? Was this what the shard had been waiting for? What had it chosen him for?
The moon above him glowed brighter, its light casting long shadows across the forest floor. And Dain realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn’t just standing in the forest anymore.
He was standing at the edge of something much darker.
