CHAPTER 76: SHADOWED PATH

The snow changed again.

It was finer now, more like dust than flake, and it clung to the skin in a way that felt wrong. Not wet. Not cold. Just... present. As if the forest wanted to mark them.

Leon moved at the front, his eyes tracking every flicker between trees. The vanguard followed in a staggered line—scouts wide, archers ready, mages in the rear. No one spoke. The silence of Witchpine still hung over them, thick as a veil.

Kellen joined him. "No prints but ours," he murmured. "Even the animals won’t come this far."

Leon nodded. He’d noticed.

They passed the last of the ridge and entered what looked like a natural corridor—two lines of stone rising from the snow like pillars. Black moss clung to their sides, pulsing faintly.

Naeve signalled a halt. She crouched near one of the stones, brushing snow away to reveal a carved emblem—a crescent eye crossed by a single vertical line.

"This was a watch path," she whispered. "Old realm. Before the crowns."

Elena, kneeling beside her, examined the stone. "These are ward markers. Not to keep something in—but to warn what’s ahead."

Leon’s grip tightened. "So it’s not over."

He stood and raised his hand.

"Fan out. No torches. Follow the moss line. We don’t stop again until we reach the break."

The column obeyed. Step by cautious step, they moved deeper into the stone corridor.

Above them, the canopy had vanished. A grey sky peeked through. But no snow fell now. No wind. Only the unnatural hush of a forest that had forgotten how to breathe.

Hours passed.

The trail curved sharply west, revealing a sloping descent lined with dead pine. There, waiting like a wound in the landscape, was a ravine—a deep gash with no bridge and no bottom in sight. Just a frozen fog that swallowed the drop.

Leon signalled stop. The troops formed up, circling the ravine’s edge.

Kellen cursed under his breath. "This wasn’t on the scout maps."

Naeve pulled a small stone and dropped it over the edge.

Nothing.

No sound. No impact.

Elena’s voice was barely audible. "We’re not meant to cross this. We’re meant to stop."

Leon stepped closer. The fog moved oddly—less like mist and more like breath.

Then, from the depths, came a sound.

Faint. Metallic.

Chains.

Leon drew his sword. Slowly.

"Whatever we woke in Witchpine... it’s down there. And it’s waiting."

And just then, a whisper rolled across the fog—not a voice, not words. But every soul present heard the same thing:

Come see what you’ve freed.

And the wind returned.

The snow flared sideways, caught in a sudden gust that howled low and long. Not just air—there were tones inside it. Echoes. As if a choir of the dead had stirred beneath the ravine. The horses reared. Soldiers fell back a pace. Only Leon stepped forward.

"We hold here," he ordered.

Elena grabbed his arm. "You’re not going down there."

He didn’t look back. "I don’t plan to. Yet."

The fog shifted again, rising in sudden shapes. Not solid. Not illusion. Just impressions of things. A gate. A chained figure. A crown lying sideways in the snow. Each vision gone before it fully formed.

Kellen muttered something sharp under his breath. "This whole forest’s been guiding us to this place. It’s not random. This path. That hollow. That thing we fought."

Naeve spoke up, her eyes still locked on the ravine. "You think it’s trying to speak?"

"No," Leon replied. "I think it’s remembering."

Silence again.

And then—footsteps. Behind them. Soft. Deliberate.

The entire vanguard turned.

But there was nothing.

No prints. No motion. Just a pressure in the air, like something watching from just beyond the edge of sight.

Elena’s hand moved to her staff. "We can’t stay here. Not long. Whatever that is—it’s bleeding into us."

Leon nodded. "Then we move. Around the ravine. Find the mouth of this place. If there’s a way in, there’s a way out."

Kellen growled. "And if there isn’t?"

"Then we seal it."

They moved again, tracing the ravine’s edge like a blade’s curve. The fog thinned briefly as they passed a cluster of weathered stones—ancient monoliths, half-fallen, each carved with the same crescent eye. Elena slowed, touching one.

"There’s a ward active here," she said. "Faint. But still alive. Something tried to hold this place shut."

"Did it work?" Kellen asked.

She looked down into the fog.

"No."

Leon stopped again at a slight rise. From here, the ravine narrowed into what looked like a passage—jagged cliffs rising like fangs, and in the distance, a faint glow. Not fire. Not magic.

Something older.

"There," Leon said.

The wind calmed.

And from the ravine’s mouth came the sound of drums.

They didn’t echo. They rolled low and deep, like heartbeats struck against iron.

Elena went still. "That rhythm... it’s patterned."

Naeve lowered to one knee, eyes closing. "Three beats. A pause. Four. A pause. Then silence. It repeats. That’s a call sign."

Kellen bristled. "A call for what?"

She opened her eyes. "Not what. Who."

Leon studied the mouth of the ravine again. The glow shifted faintly—and now it looked like torchlight, flickering from beneath the earth.

"We’re not alone down here," he muttered.

Behind them, the trees groaned as wind picked up through the corridor they’d travelled. Noises followed. Not voices. Not creatures.

Breathing.

Something old was waking.

Leon turned to the others. "Ready formations. Defensive posture. If that’s a gate, we’re the last ones standing before it opens."

The mages drew closer, protective wards humming faintly in the air. Archers knocked arrows. Naeve stepped forward.

"Permission to scout ahead?"

Leon paused. Then nodded. "Two minutes. No more. Eyes only."

She vanished into the fog.

And in her absence, the drums grew louder.

Then something answered them.

One deep horn blast.

Far older than any instrument.

And the forest held its breath again.

The sound stretched. Not just a note, but an invocation. It reached into the marrow, a vibration that made even the air feel brittle. Trees trembled. The earth beneath their boots seemed to groan. Every soldier felt the urge to step back—but none did.

Leon held fast, eyes fixed on the ravine’s glow.

Elena moved beside him, quiet. "It’s calling something up. Or calling something down. Either way, we’re standing at the edge of it."

The horn faded.

Then came the scraping. Iron on stone. Rhythmic. Laboured.

Chains again.

But this time, they moved with purpose.

A voice—not human—rose from the ravine. It didn’t speak in any tongue known to them, but they all understood what it meant.

Release me.

Leon didn’t flinch. "No."

Another chain dragged. A pressure rolled outward from the ravine’s mouth.

Elena staggered. Kellen dropped to one knee. The air was thickening.

Leon stepped forward, sword raised.

"If this is a gate," he said, "then let it see who stands before it."

And the fog moved.