Echoes of the Fallen Realm

Chapter 2: The Wound of the World

The sun had not risen for days, or so it seemed to Emauneml as he trekked deeper into the wildlands. The sky, blanketed by thick, ominous clouds, never allowed a sliver of light to penetrate the gloom. The ground beneath him, once lush and fertile, had turned to cracked earth, as if the very world itself had suffered a mortal wound.

Emauneml had journeyed far from what remained of Ciri'ers, leaving behind the ashes of his once beautiful home. His heart grew heavier with each passing step, but he pressed forward, driven by the promise he had made—to destroy the creatures that had ripped his life apart. He followed the trails of destruction they left behind—abandoned villages, burnt-out farms, and forests stripped bare. This was no ordinary devastation; it was the mark of something unnatural.

As he moved through a ruined forest, Emauneml's thoughts turned inward. His hands, calloused and scarred from countless battles with the beasts, rested on the hilt of his sword. He thought back to the night it all began—the night the creatures first struck. But those memories were too painful, too raw to dwell on. Instead, he focused on the task ahead: finding the heart of the destruction.

The creatures had come from somewhere, and Emauneml was determined to find their origin.

He reached a clearing at the edge of the forest, where the ground sloped into a great valley. From the heights, he saw the true extent of the devastation below. A massive fissure had torn the earth open, stretching as far as the eye could see. It was as though the world itself had split apart, and from the black depths of the wound, an ominous glow rose, flickering like firelight.

This, Emauneml knew, was the source—the place where the creatures were born, or summoned. The Wound of the World.

His grip tightened around his sword. He could feel the air grow thick with the scent of rot and decay, and distant growls echoed from the chasm below. Whatever had unleashed the monsters upon Ciri'ers, it was tied to this place. And whatever lay in those depths would not give up its secrets easily.

Emauneml descended cautiously into the valley. Each step brought him closer to the edge of the fissure, where the ground was soft and unstable. The air grew colder, the sense of danger more palpable. He could feel eyes on him, though he saw nothing in the shadows.

Suddenly, a sound—a low, guttural growl—echoed from within the chasm. Emauneml drew his blade, his eyes scanning the darkness. Out of the shadows, a figure emerged. It wasn't a creature he had fought before. This one was larger, its skin pale and rough, with jagged teeth and glowing red eyes. A monstrous form of brute strength and malevolence.

Emauneml steeled himself, feeling the surge of adrenaline course through his veins. This was only the beginning. Whatever was down here, it was far worse than anything he had faced before.

With a roar, the creature lunged at him, and the fight for survival began.

As Emauneml parried the first blow, he realized something strange—this monster didn't seem mindless like the others. It moved with purpose, with intelligence. Its attacks were coordinated, and it studied him with eyes that gleamed with malice.

Emauneml fought fiercely, dodging and countering with precision, but this was a different kind of battle. For the first time, he realized he wasn't just facing wild beasts—there was something greater controlling them, something far more dangerous than he had ever imagined. The creatures weren't just products of chaos; they were soldiers in a war he had yet to understand.

As he finally struck the creature down, its blood staining the ground at his feet, Emauneml stood panting, his sword dripping with dark, foul ichor. His heart pounded in his chest, and a cold realization crept over him.

The monsters weren't just hunting. They were building towards something.

And at the heart of it all was the Wound of the World.

The deeper he went, the more certain he became—this was no mere act of destruction. The monsters had a master. And Emauneml was about to face something far more terrifying than he had ever imagined.

The Wound of the World would not just test his strength—it would test his soul.