Chapitre 21: The awakening curse
Nathaniel's pulse echoed in his ears as the room fell silent once more, the last remnants of the fog vanishing into the stone walls like a fading nightmare. He could still feel its oppressive weight on his chest, the eerie chill that had settled deep into his bones, as though the mist itself had seeped into his very soul. But the air had grown colder, heavier now—charged, thick with the kind of unnatural stillness that only existed in the moments before something terrible happened.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he backed away from the face that had appeared in the shadows. The disembodied eyes seemed to follow his every movement, their glow sharp and unsettling in the dim light of the chamber. The face—pale, hollow, with skin stretched tight over its skull—was a grotesque reflection of something far worse, a twisted omen that had come to haunt him.
Nathaniel's hands trembled as he wiped sweat from his brow. His mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of the chaos. His body ached, worn from the constant pressure, the weight of the darkness pressing in from all sides. He had never felt so fragile, so utterly powerless. But there was something more—something deeper, something in the very marrow of his bones—that told him this was no mere apparition, no figment of his imagination. It was real. And it was not here to leave him in peace.
Suddenly, the walls of the chamber groaned, an ominous sound that shook the very foundation of the room. The floor beneath his feet vibrated as the temperature dropped again, the chill seeping into his skin, making his fingers numb. Then, as if guided by some unseen hand, the stone walls began to shift—slowly at first, a faint tremor in the air—but then more rapidly, as though the room itself was coming to life.
Nathaniel's heart raced. He had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that the space he had been in moments ago was no longer the same. The room was warping, bending, as if reality itself was being stretched and torn. The walls were closing in, and the air was thick with a sense of impending doom. He had to move. He had to get out.
But then, as he turned to flee, the ground beneath him cracked wide open.
The earth trembled violently, a deep rumble filling the room as a fissure split the stone floor. Nathaniel stumbled back, eyes wide in shock, but before he could make sense of what was happening, something large and black rose from the crack in the ground. It was like a shadow—a massive, dark shape that crawled up from the very depths of the earth, twisting and shifting like a living thing.
The figure that had once stood before him in the fog appeared once again, its dark eyes glowing brighter than before, and its voice—low, guttural, and mocking—reached out to him like a physical force.
"You think you can defy us?" it hissed, its voice vibrating in Nathaniel's chest. "You are not the one in control here."
Nathaniel took a step back, his pulse hammering in his throat. His body was paralyzed by fear, his mind screaming for him to move, to run, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He was trapped.
The thing before him grinned, its teeth long and sharp, a twisted mockery of humanity. It was no longer just a shadow; it was something more, something ancient, an embodiment of darkness. A force that had slumbered for centuries, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
The ground beneath Nathaniel's feet began to crack, large jagged pieces of stone lifting into the air as if the earth itself were alive. The fissure widened, and from it, a swarm of figures emerged—horrible, twisted forms, their faces hidden in the swirling shadows. Their movements were jerky and unnatural, as if they weren't fully in the world at all. They were something else—things that shouldn't exist.
The figure in front of Nathaniel stepped forward, its shadowy form towering over him. "You awakened them," it whispered, its voice now a deep growl, the very sound vibrating through Nathaniel's bones. "And now they will follow you."
Suddenly, the shadowy figures swarmed forward, their black limbs reaching out, their whispers growing louder, more frantic. Nathaniel's heart raced as his instincts screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. The walls were closing in, the floor beneath him was crumbling away, and the figures moved faster than he could comprehend, their chilling presence closing in from all sides.
The figure in front of him raised its hand, and the room seemed to warp again. The shadows twisted, coiling around Nathaniel's limbs like chains, pulling him toward the center of the room. He struggled against them, his breath coming in frantic gasps, but the more he fought, the tighter the shadows grew, pulling him deeper into the darkness.
"Stop!" Nathaniel screamed, his voice raw with fear. "Please! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean to wake you—any of you!"
The figure's laugh was a guttural sound that echoed through the chamber, and for a moment, Nathaniel thought he heard something else beneath it—something familiar, something he couldn't place.
"You never had a choice," the figure hissed. "This was always your fate, Nathaniel. You have awakened the curse."
Suddenly, the shadows withdrew. The pressure around him eased, and the figures pulled back into the darkness. The ground began to settle again, the tremors subsiding. Nathaniel, drenched in sweat, gasped for air, his body trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and terror. His mind was reeling, and for a moment, he wondered if he had imagined it all.
But then, the ground beneath him cracked again, wider this time, the crevice spreading toward the altar.
From the crack, something else emerged—a figure. A woman, draped in dark robes, her face obscured by a veil. Her presence was like a shadow that stretched out before her, a calm, almost serene darkness that filled the room with an unsettling calm. Her eyes, hidden beneath the veil, shimmered with an unnatural light.
"I am the one who watches," the woman said softly, her voice like a soft wind whispering through the trees. "You have awakened what was meant to remain asleep. And now… you will learn what it means to live with the curse."
The figure raised her hand, and a burst of light erupted from the crack in the earth. Nathaniel stumbled back, his mind reeling, his heart racing as the chamber began to warp and twist once more. This time, however, the shadows didn't retreat. They closed in around him, swirling faster, tightening like a noose.
He wasn't just trapped in a room anymore. He was trapped in something much worse.
And this time, there was no escape.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone