Eclipsed

Chapter 58

As Ren approached the fork in the path, he paused, his gaze lingering on the old, weathered signpost. The arrow pointing toward the Kingdom of Ryouen was clearly marked, though its wood had aged and faded with time. The other arrow, pointing to an unmarked path, seemed almost deliberately hidden, its wood cracked and broken as though it had been left there for years, abandoned by those who dared not travel its way.

Ren's eyes narrowed as he studied the path. There was something about the unmarked route that piqued his curiosity, drawing him toward it despite the ominous feeling it evoked. He was no stranger to danger, and this path, despite its unsettling aura, felt like something he needed to face. The last time he had walked this way, he'd felt the weight of the unknown pressing on him, the sense that something—or someone—was waiting for him.

With a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, Ren stepped forward, his cloak swirling around him like a dark cloud. His weapon, the katana, was concealed beneath his cloak, though his hand rested near the hilt, ready for anything. The path narrowed and became overgrown, the trees twisting above, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to him. The air grew thick, fog rolling in at his feet, shrouding the path in an eerie, oppressive atmosphere.

He walked deeper into the unmarked path, his senses heightened. The wind had died down, and the usual sounds of nature had been replaced by an unsettling silence. As he pressed forward, the mist seemed to thicken, blurring his vision and dulling the world around him. His footsteps, once crisp and firm, now echoed in the stillness, muffled by the fog that hung heavy in the air.

Soon, Ren found himself standing before a graveyard, its weathered tombstones jutting from the ground like broken teeth in the darkness. The fog here was thicker, swirling around the graves as if it had a life of its own. The air was still, except for the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of a wooden cross swaying in the wind. The silence was suffocating, and Ren couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

"Something's not right here," Ren muttered to himself, his voice barely breaking the stillness. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his katana, the cool metal reassuring against his palm. As he ventured deeper into the graveyard, his eyes darted from one shadowed tombstone to the next, searching for any sign of movement. The mist seemed to curl around the graves, creating strange shapes and silhouettes that flickered in and out of view.

Then, he heard it—a soft shuffle of footsteps, barely audible over the sound of his own breathing. Ren's instincts flared. He drew his katana in one swift, practiced motion, the blade humming in the misty air. His eyes scanned the graveyard, waiting for whatever was approaching to reveal itself.

A voice broke the silence, deep and gravelly, echoing from somewhere in the fog. "How dare you trespass upon the Fallen Lands?"

Ren's eyes narrowed as he looked around. "Who's there?" His grip tightened on the katana, the edge glinting ominously in the fog.

From the shadows, a figure slowly emerged. It was humanoid, but not quite human. The figure wore a black skull mask, its hollow eyes dark and empty. Its body was withered, as though it had long since ceased to belong to the living. The figure was tall, and in its hand, it carried a large scythe, its blade dull and jagged like it had seen countless battles.

Ren's heart raced, and he quickly took a step back, his katana ready. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, voice steady, though his eyes never left the approaching figure.

The figure stopped a few paces away, tilting its head slightly, as if inspecting Ren. "I see... A cursed human." Its voice was cold, distant, and it seemed to carry an ancient weight.

Ren frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Cursed? What do you mean by cursed? I didn't just get cursed by stepping down this path, did I?" His grip on his katana tightened, but he didn't make a move.