The Shadows Of The Higher Realms

Ragnar hesitated. Riona's words echoed in his mind, filling the silence with their weight. "It leads to your destiny." He didn't trust her—not fully. Her cryptic responses, her cold demeanor, the faint smile that seemed to hint at something she wasn't telling him. Still, he felt drawn to the stone structure, as if it were pulling him forward with an invisible thread.

He followed her.

The air felt heavier with each step, as though reality itself thickened around them. Ragnar glanced over his shoulder. The forest beyond the clearing had grown darker, the trees standing like silent sentinels. The world felt… different.

"This place," Ragnar said finally, breaking the oppressive silence. "It doesn't feel real."

"It's real enough," Riona replied without turning to him. Her voice was calm but distant, as though she were speaking to someone far away.

"Real enough for what?" Ragnar pressed. He was tired of her cryptic responses, tired of being left in the dark.

She stopped abruptly, and Ragnar nearly collided with her. She turned to face him, her pale eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Real enough to destroy you if you let it."

Before Ragnar could respond, the ground beneath them shifted. It was subtle at first—a faint tremor that could have been mistaken for a trick of the mind. But then it grew stronger. The earth groaned and split, cracks spidering out from the stone structure and radiating into the forest.

"What's happening?" Ragnar asked, his voice rising.

Riona didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the stone and placed her hand on its surface. The runes glowed brighter, and the tremors stopped. The silence that followed was deafening, as though the world itself were holding its breath.

"You're not ready," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not ready for what?" Ragnar demanded, stepping toward her.

She turned to him, and for the first time, he saw something resembling fear in her eyes. "For the truth."

Before he could respond, a sharp, metallic sound cut through the air. Ragnar spun around, his heart racing. From the shadows of the forest, figures emerged.

At first, they seemed human—tall, cloaked figures walking with slow, deliberate steps. But as they stepped into the moonlight, Ragnar saw that they were anything but human. Their skin was a pale, translucent gray, their faces devoid of features save for hollow, black voids where their eyes should have been.

"What are they?" Ragnar asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Sentinels," Riona said, her voice steady. She didn't seem surprised by their arrival.

"Sentinels? What do they want?"

"They're here for you."

Ragnar's blood ran cold. "Me? Why?"

"Because you don't belong here," she said simply. "And they're here to correct that."

The Sentinels moved closer, their movements unnervingly fluid, as though they were gliding rather than walking. The air grew colder with each step they took, frost forming on the grass beneath their feet.

Ragnar took a step back. "What do we do?"

Riona didn't answer. Instead, she stepped in front of him, placing herself between him and the approaching figures. She raised one hand, and the air around her seemed to ripple.

The Sentinels stopped.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then one of the Sentinels stepped forward, its void-like eyes fixed on Riona. When it spoke, its voice was a low, guttural sound that seemed to resonate in Ragnar's bones.

"You have interfered," it said.

Riona didn't respond.

The Sentinel tilted its head slightly, as though studying her. "You know the rules, Riona. Why do you protect him?"

Ragnar's breath caught in his throat. They know her?

"He is not ready," Riona said, her voice steady.

"That is not your decision to make," the Sentinel replied. "You overstep your bounds."

Ragnar stepped forward, his fists clenched. "What the hell is going on? Who are you? What do you want from me?"

The Sentinel's void-like eyes shifted to him, and Ragnar felt a wave of cold wash over him, as though the creature's gaze could pierce his very soul. "You are an anomaly," it said. "A fracture in the cycle. You must be corrected."

"Corrected?" Ragnar repeated.

Before the Sentinel could respond, Riona raised her hand again. The air rippled, and the Sentinels stepped back, their movements almost reluctant.

"He is under my protection," Riona said.

"For now," the Sentinel replied. Its voice was low, almost a growl. "But you cannot protect him forever."

With that, the Sentinels turned and disappeared into the forest, their forms dissolving into the shadows.

Ragnar turned to Riona, his mind racing. "What the hell was that? What do they mean by 'corrected'? And why do they know you?"

Riona didn't answer. She turned back to the stone structure, her expression unreadable.

"Riona!" Ragnar shouted. "You owe me some answers!"

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "They're right," she said finally. "You don't belong here."

"What does that mean?"

She turned to him, her eyes tired. "This world, this dimension—it's not your home. You were brought here, pulled from the cycle of your existence. The Sentinels are... caretakers. They maintain the balance of the cycles, and you are disrupting that balance."

Ragnar shook his head. "Why me? I didn't ask for this!"

"No," Riona said softly. "You didn't. But it doesn't matter. You're here now, and that changes everything."

Ragnar stared at her, his mind spinning. Nothing made sense. The Sentinels, the stone structure, Riona's cryptic words—it was too much.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "What am I supposed to do?"

Riona stepped closer, her gaze intense. "Survive," she said simply.

Before Ragnar could respond, the ground beneath them shifted again. This time, the cracks in the earth widened, and a blinding light erupted from the stone structure. Ragnar shielded his eyes, but the light was overwhelming, consuming everything around him.

When the light faded, he found himself standing in a completely different place.

The forest was gone. The stone structure was gone. Even Riona was gone.

Ragnar stood alone in a vast, empty expanse. The ground beneath his feet was smooth and reflective, like a mirror, and the sky above him was a swirling vortex of colors that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Where am I?" he whispered.

A voice answered, but it wasn't Riona's. It was deeper, older, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"You are where you were always meant to be," the voice said.

Ragnar turned, searching for the source of the voice, but there was nothing—only the endless expanse.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this place?"

The voice didn't answer. Instead, it laughed—a deep, echoing sound that sent shivers down Ragnar's spine.

"You have much to learn, Ragnar," the voice said finally. "And even more to remember."