Chapter 4 – Echoes in the Stone
The deeper they ventured into the ruins, the quieter the forest became.
Lucian had expected the shattered remnants of stone walls and moss-choked towers to feel lifeless, but instead, the silence pressed in like a fog, heavy and watchful. The trees thinned as the structure emerged—what once must have been a fortress now lay broken across a clearing, its outer walls crumbled, yet its heart strangely intact.
The air here was still.
Kaiser, walking a step ahead, paused beside an arched stone doorway. Vines crawled across the stone like veins, and the carvings—some in ancient script, others in patterns long forgotten—seemed to pulse faintly under the moonlight. His long blond hair caught the light in silver streaks, brushing his shoulder as he tilted his head.
"You feel that?" he asked casually, unwrapping a popsicle with one hand.
Lucian looked around. "What? The silence?"
Kaiser grinned around the cold treat. "Mm. The quiet is too clean."
Lucian's gaze narrowed. Now that it was pointed out, he realized—there were no insects, no rustling wind, no chirping from the trees above. Just the crackle of their soft footsteps and the occasional drip of moisture from the broken stone above.
"You think it's an ambush?" Lucian asked, his voice hushed without meaning to be.
Kaiser leaned against a broken pillar, resting his back lazily while his eyes stayed sharp. "Not yet. But we're not alone."
Lucian crouched, brushing his fingers against the faint trails in the dirt—scuffed marks, light indentations in the moss, clawed prints that didn't match anything he knew. He rose slowly. "These tracks… they're recent."
Kaiser nodded. "A few hours, maybe. Could be scavengers. Could be something smarter."
A faint wind stirred, carrying the scent of ash and something faintly metallic.
Lucian's fingers twitched, the weight of his unfamiliar body reminding him he wasn't a model anymore—he was something else now. Something untested.
"I'm guessing you've seen places like this before?" he asked.
Kaiser tilted his head. "A few. This one's different, though. Built to last. Whoever lived here wanted to be remembered."
"Demons?"
"Could be." He popped the last bit of his popsicle into his mouth and crushed the stick between his fingers. "But don't assume 'demon' means 'enemy.' They've got cities, culture, and drama just like everyone else."
Lucian blinked. "You're saying we're trespassing?"
"Oh, definitely," Kaiser said cheerfully. "But I'm charming."
They moved deeper into the ruined structure, passing under collapsed archways and through courtyards overrun with roots. Strange symbols etched into the stone glowed faintly as they passed, and the deeper they went, the more Lucian felt the weight of unseen eyes.
Then a low, rhythmic hum echoed through the space—too precise for nature, too soft to pinpoint.
Lucian reached instinctively for the hilt of the short sword Kaiser had tossed him earlier that morning.
Kaiser raised a brow. "Relax. If they wanted to jump us, we'd already be neck-deep in spikes or poison or melodramatic speeches."
Lucian gave him a flat look. "Comforting."
"I try." Kaiser stretched his arms above his head, then cracked his neck. "Let's rest a little. If they want to talk, they'll show themselves. If not… we'll walk."
Lucian hesitated. "You're seriously just going to wait here?"
Kaiser plopped down on a flat stone, one leg crossed over the other. "Lucian, listen. When you're as powerful as I am—"
"Right," Lucian muttered.
"—you don't chase. You let the world move around you." He produced another popsicle from somewhere beneath his cloak, unwrapping it with practiced ease. "Besides, you're tense. First day in ruins?"
Lucian sat reluctantly, keeping his eyes on the dark archways nearby. "First day in anything like this."
"Then enjoy the moment." Kaiser took a bite of his popsicle and closed his eyes like he was sunbathing. "These ruins have stories. You just have to listen."
Lucian glanced around again, and this time, he didn't just see ruins. He saw the memories embedded in the stone—the faint flickers of a place once lived in, defended, maybe even loved.
And somewhere in the distance, beneath the stone and silence, something shifted.
Something was listening back.
To be continued.