The fog never lifted in this part of Velmara.
Trees stood like gaunt sentinels, twisted and skeletal, their bark scorched by time or something far worse. The ground beneath Asari and Aicha's feet was damp and black, soaked with decay. Each step forward made a sickening squelch, as if the land itself was weeping.
Aicha clutched the edge of her cloak tighter. "This forest... it's wrong," she murmured.
Asari didn't respond. His eyes scanned the dark path ahead, his instincts sharp. This wasn't just an eerie place — it was alive, and it watched them. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, already half-drawn.
They had come here seeking a lead — a fragment of a legend buried in old Velmaran scripture. A tale of a tomb beneath the earth, where the Eather of the damned gathered, forming a curse so dense it whispered through the roots.
They reached the mouth of a hollow in the ground. The soil formed a natural descent into shadow, and in the center, a monolithic stone stood upright, etched with ancient runes glowing faintly red.
Aicha touched it.
Pain exploded through her mind — visions of children crying, men screaming, and the earth swallowing them whole. She recoiled, collapsing into Asari's arms. Her breathing was sharp and broken.
"Don't touch anything," Asari said, holding her steady. His voice was low, but underneath it trembled something unfamiliar — unease.
"I saw them," Aicha whispered. "The people this place consumed."
Asari turned toward the stone. The runes now pulsed like a heart. From the soil, bones began to surface. Skulls, ribcages, malformed hands. Something was awakening.
"They died dreaming of the sky," a voice said from the shadows.
Asari spun, sword drawn.
A figure stepped forward. Not human. It wore a veil of vines and moss, its body made of bark and brittle branches, eyes hollow.
"You disturbed their rest," it said. "Now you must carry their dreams."
Without warning, roots lashed toward them. Asari moved — faster than light, using the technique Ghost Walking: Veil Step, vanishing and reappearing behind the creature. His blade carved into its back, but instead of blood, black Eather poured out like ink.
The forest responded — trees bent and screamed, the fog thickened into a blinding shroud. The creature roared, and dozens of twisted wooden effigies emerged from the ground, crawling on four limbs, crying like infants.
Aicha's eyes burned with blue flame as she channeled the Eather within her. "Step back, Asari."
He obeyed.
She unleashed Lament of Azure Flame, a technique gifted by a mysterious legacy. The air ignited. Screams turned to silence as fire devoured the cursed forms. But the main figure endured, its form shifting, becoming something worse.
It grew wings made of bones, its head splitting open to reveal three eyes stacked vertically. It hovered above the tomb-stone, chanting in a language not spoken by men.
Aicha staggered.
Asari narrowed his eyes. The chant was forming a Domain — a space where death ruled, where Eather twisted to the will of madness.
He released his blade's seal.
Devil Cry: Echo of Isolation – Step Two.
His Eather spiked. The ground cracked. Air rippled.
He stepped forward, through a wall of screams and sorrow, and slashed upward. A vertical arc of crimson energy cleaved the sky, striking the creature's chest. The impact shattered the Domain forming around them. The winged abomination screeched and disintegrated into ash.
Then came silence.
Aicha dropped to her knees. Her hands trembled. "There are worse things buried in this continent…"
Asari walked beside her and helped her up. "We'll keep walking."
"But what if we don't come out this time?" she asked, voice small.
Asari paused, then looked to the horizon — beyond the broken forest, a tower of obsidian could be seen faintly in the distance.
"We don't have the luxury to stop," he replied.
The air felt heavier now. Whatever this cursed land had whispered into their souls, it wouldn't let go easily. Every shadow seemed longer. Every echo sounded like laughter. And just as they began to walk again, a small creature with stitched lips crawled out from behind a tree, dragging a scroll in its mouth.
Asari knelt and retrieved it, unfurling the brittle parchment. On it were scribbled symbols that pulsed with a subtle energy. He recognized none of them, but at the bottom, a symbol glowed in a familiar color: red.
"A seal," Asari muttered.
"What does it mean?" Aicha asked.
He stood, folding the scroll carefully. "It means something sealed wants to wake up."
---
Words etched at the bottom of an ancient Velmaran grave:
"Even the dead envy the living, for they still have pain to feel."
Quote from the Book of Hollow Dreams:
"There is no light at the end. There is only silence, and it sings lullabies to the damned."