Kael walked. His small legs ached, unused to the endless, uneven terrain. The ashen soil shifted under his worn shoes with a dry, rustling sound – one of the few noises that dared exist in this silent land.
Vispera's warmth remained, a constant, gentle pressure in his mind, a silent hand guiding him forward. She didn't push him to run anymore, just encouraged him to keep moving, step by step, away from the ruins of his past.
The landscape offered little variation. Grey hills rolled into grey valleys under the same unchanging grey sky. Occasionally, a particularly twisted cluster of Twisted Flora would jut from the ground, looking like grasping, skeletal fingers frozen in agony. They added to the pervasive sense of unease, silent monuments to life perverted.
He tried, sometimes, to hum a tune his mother used to sing, but the notes felt flat, swallowed by the heavy silence. The memory of the melody itself felt… fragile, like it too could be swept away if he wasn't careful.
Hours blurred into a single, grey stretch of time. Kael's body was weary, his mind dulled by the monotony and the ever-present ache of the Bedel in his chest.
Then, he saw something different.
Ahead, in a small, shallow valley, stood a figure. It looked like a person, frozen mid-stride, made of the same grey, ashen material as the ground and the twisted plants. It was perfectly, unnaturally still. A Durağan Doğan (The Stillborn).
It was terrifying precisely because of its stillness. In a world where life meant movement and The Void meant an unnatural silence, this frozen form felt like a perversion of both. Its head was slightly tilted, an arm outstretched, as if reaching or pointing before being abruptly halted in time.
Vispera's warmth shifted from guiding to warning – a feeling of caution, a clear sense of avoidance. Do not approach. Go around.
Kael stopped, his small body tense. He remembered the Echo Stalker, the cold fear, the burning light, the tearing pain of the Bedel that followed. He didn't want to use the light again. Not yet.
He watched the Stillborn. It didn't move. It didn't make a sound. It was just… there, a statue of grey death in the grey landscape.
Following Vispera's insistent, cautious pull, Kael began to carefully detour around the valley, putting as much distance between himself and the Stillborn figure as the terrain allowed. He kept his eyes on it, half expecting it to lurch into sudden, silent motion.
It didn't. It remained frozen, a chilling testament to The Void's power to halt life in its tracks.
Eventually, he cleared the valley and the unnerving presence of The Stillborn. Vispera's warmth softened slightly, a sense of relief flowing through their connection.
He was tired. So deeply tired. His legs burned, his eyelids felt heavy. He needed to rest.
Vispera guided him towards a cluster of large, cracked rocks that offered a small overhang, a meager shelter from the biting wind that sometimes whispered through The Void. He sank down against the cold stone, pulling his tattered clothes tighter around himself.
In the relative stillness of this small alcove, the ache of the Bedel seemed to pulse more noticeably. He closed his eyes, trying to think of his mother's face, to hold onto it.
A soft image flickered – her smile, warm and gentle. He focused, trying to see it clearly. But it was like looking at something through thick, swirling smoke. He couldn't quite grasp the details. The edges blurred, faded. A familiar wave of cold emptiness washed over him, a dull throb behind his eyes. Another piece… gone? He hadn't even used the light. The Bedel was always working.
A wave of despair threatened to drown him. What was the point? If memories faded even when he did nothing, if the world was just endless grey and silent monsters, what was the point of walking, of trying?
Vispera's warmth pulsed strongly, filling his chest, pushing back the despair. It wasn't a command this time, or a warning. It felt like… shared sorrow, yes, but also resilience. A gentle, unwavering presence that simply was. It felt like a silent promise to remain, a stubborn refusal to be consumed by the grey. Keep going, the warmth seemed to say, but with endless patience and understanding. I am here.
He leaned into the feeling, drew strength from it. He didn't understand Vispera, but she was real. She was warm. She was hope.
Opening his eyes, Kael looked out from his rocky shelter at the endless grey landscape. It was still desolate, still silent, still dangerous.
But on the distant horizon, through the perpetual grey mist, he thought he saw something. Not a rock formation, not Twisted Flora. A faint, shimmering distortion in the air that seemed to hold a shape, unlike the fluid forms of the Echo Stalkers. Or perhaps… a very faint, unnatural light, almost swallowed by the distance and the gloom. Something else was out there.
With Vispera's warmth a steady comfort in his heart and the ache of the Bedel a dull reminder of the price, Kael knew he couldn't stay here forever.
He needed to keep moving. Towards… whatever that was.