Whisper's Of Ashe's

The world had ended long before anyone remembered the exact date. Cities lay in ruins, swallowed by dust and silence, while the few who survived moved like shadows between skeletons of skyscrapers. Among them was Eira, a woman with an uncanny gift: she could hear whispers in the wind—fragments of conversations, memories of people long gone. Tonight, the wind carried something different: a voice sharp and urgent, calling her name. But it wasn’t human. It was something else—something waiting in the darkness of the abandoned metro tunnels beneath the city. Eira’s companions—Kael, who could see a few seconds into the future, and Mira, whose touch healed or harmed depending on her will—stayed behind, knowing better than to follow her into places where the air itself seemed to betray you. But Eira had no choice. The whispers were guiding her, and she had learned long ago that ignoring them came at a price. The tunnels were black, except for the faint, flickering glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cracked walls. Every step she took echoed, and every echo carried a warning. The voice grew louder, more desperate. And then she saw it: a shadow moving against the light, but not quite human. It whispered her name again… and for the first time, Eira felt fear that wasn’t just in her head. Eira froze, her breath shallow. The shadow didn’t move like a person; it slithered, folding in on itself, flickering like smoke caught in a weak flame. The whispering grew louder, now almost deafening, filling her mind with fragments: “Eira… find it… before it wakes… do not trust…” Her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her belt, but she knew it wouldn’t cut this thing. Whatever it was, it belonged to the old world—a world of secrets buried beneath the ruins. She took a slow step forward. The shadow recoiled, as if surprised by her courage. Then it shifted again, forming the faint outline of a human face. Eyes hollow, staring, yet full of warning. “You shouldn’t be here,” it hissed, voice like cracking ice. “I have to be,” Eira replied, trying to keep her own voice steady. “You’re hiding something. I can feel it. What happened down here?” The shadow paused. Then, in a rush of movement almost too fast to see, it lunged into the darkness and vanished. But something had been left behind: a small, metallic object gleaming faintly in the fungus-light. Eira bent down and picked it up—it was a key, but unlike any key she’d ever seen. Strange markings ran along its surface, etched deep and precise. As soon as she touched it, the whispers returned, louder, urgent: “Time is bleeding… they are waking… you cannot turn back…” Eira realized with a chill that the key was no ordinary object. It was a warning… and a door. A door to something the world had tried to bury forever.Eira clutched the key, its cold metal biting into her palm. The whispers swirled around her, urgent and chaotic, overlapping voices of the dead and the living alike. Something down here didn’t want to be found—and yet, it had chosen her. She moved deeper into the tunnels, the walls narrowing, pressing in like the world itself was trying to suffocate her. Every step echoed with a voice: “Turn back… turn back…” but Eira didn’t. Fear had never stopped her before, and it wouldn’t start now. At a sudden bend, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling was lost in darkness, but at the center, a massive door loomed, etched with the same strange markings as the key. The whispers turned into frantic screams: “Do not open… do not wake it…” Eira hesitated, hand hovering over the keyhole. Her instincts screamed that she shouldn’t, that opening this door could mean death—not just for her, but for the remnants of the world above. And yet… the shadow’s voice had been a warning, not a threat. Someone—or something—needed her to do this. With a trembling hand, she slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly. A pulse of energy ran up her arm, cold and alive, and the door groaned as it began to open. Darkness spilled out, thick and suffocating, carrying a scent of rust and decay. From within, a shape stirred—something enormous, coiled and ancient, its eyes glinting like dying stars. Eira stumbled back, heart hammering. The creature didn’t move, not yet. But she felt it watching her, calculating, waiting. And in that instant, she understood: this was not just a secret of the old world. It was the reason the world ended. The whispers crescendoed, overlapping in a cacophony of warning and pleading: “Eira… you cannot stop it… but you must try…” And in the darkness, the creature exhaled, a breath that rattled the very walls of the chamber. The game had begun.The air in the chamber thickened, heavy with decay and something older—something alive in a way the world above had forgotten. Eira’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, each one echoing back at her as if the walls themselves were mocking her. The creature moved then, slowly at first, uncoiling like a shadow untwisting itself. Its body was massive, slick with darkness that seemed to swallow the faint light. The eyes—two pinpricks of molten silver—fixed on her, and Eira felt them drilling into her very mind. “You…” she whispered, voice trembling. “You… survived…” It hissed, a sound like metal grinding against stone. Then, almost human in its tone, it spoke: “I am not what you think. I am… the last witness.” Eira’s hands shook as she tightened her grip on the key. “The last witness to what?” she demanded. “To the end of the world?” The creature’s silver eyes flickered, and the whispers rose to a deafening chorus, feeding into her mind: “Remember… remember… remember…” And then the truth hit her like a hammer. Flashes of the past, visions not her own but somehow familiar, surged into her consciousness. Cities burning, skies ripped open, people screaming—not in anger, not in war—but in a collective cry of fear. A man, a woman, a child, all screaming in unison as something unseen tore the world apart. “I… I remember this,” Eira gasped, staggering. “This… this was you?” “I was their warning,” the creature rasped. “Not their executioner. The world ended because they ignored what was coming. And now… it stirs again.” Eira’s stomach churned. “Stirs? What do you mean? What is it?” The creature leaned forward, its massive form blotting out the chamber’s dim light. “It never left. Buried beneath the ashes, it waited. And now… you have unlocked the first seal.” A tremor ran through the floor, the walls shivering. Dust rained down from the ceiling. The whispers became screams: “Eira… you’ve released it… it’s awake…” Her heart thundered. She wanted to run, to flee, to throw the key away—but something deep inside told her she couldn’t. The world had already begun to bleed into chaos again, and she was the only one who could face what she had awakened. The creature’s voice, low and mournful, pierced her thoughts: “You must go deeper. If you do not… all that remains of the world will vanish.” Eira swallowed hard. The darkness beyond the door seemed endless. Yet something inside her—a mixture of fear, defiance, and a strange certainty—pushed her forward. And with that, she stepped into the shadows.