Pantheon Online

316 Dark Inheritance (Part 2)

The world around Winter twisted and convulsed as she drifted through the endless void of nightmares. The echoes of ancient screams clawed at her mind, dragging her deeper into the shifting horrors of the War of the Fallen. Every step she took reshaped the landscape, forcing her to witness the agony of divine battles long past.

'This is their nightmares,' She thought as she stared at the twisted figures with pity while passing through. 'What's the point of putting them through this?'

Spectral figures clashed with long-forgotten Gods and heroes before her. Gods of forgotten pantheons were impaled upon spears of writhing shadow as golden motes burst forth like stardust. If the sight wasn't so horrifying, it would almost be beautiful. The earth itself groaned beneath the weight of the battle. Vast craters swallowed entire legions as the sky above cracked like shattered glass. The air pulsed with the sickly glow of corrupted divinity. An insidious perversion of the power once granted to the Dark Gods by their followers.

Winter strode forward, unshaken by the sights. Her long hair fluttered in the nonexistent wind while her eyes gleamed with cold resolve. She had walked these nightmares before, traversed the horrors of dead gods and broken realms. This isn't a battlefield of the past. No. It's a prison of memory, one designed to ensnare its inmates with their pain.

A ripple passed through the nightmare, and Winter felt it. A presence watching her. No, not just watching. Hunting. Stalking.

She turned sharply, her senses expanded as the shadows coalesced into something more than mere spectres of war. A figure emerged from the newly formed abyss. Its form shifted between states as if it couldn't remember how it was supposed to look. A mask of blackened gold hid its face. Save for the slits where two burning black eyes peered through. Its armour was not forged of metal but of darkness itself. Like its master, it shifted and writhed as it attempted to settle on a form. In the presence of the new arrival, the nightmare recoiled. The battlefield whispered its fear in the clanging metal and shattering stone.

'Vortharu,' Winter guessed as she studied the owner of the inheritance. 'I can feel the darkness in him from here.'

The name burned itself into the air between them, unspoken yet undeniable. The God of Nightmares. The Keeper of Silent Screams. Unknown to Winter, he was also known as the one who had defied both the heavens and the void, carving his legend in the blood of gods. Though his form had been lost in the final battles, his will had never faded. It had festered in the nightmares, lingering, waiting.

Vortharu did not respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, his gaze pressed upon her very soul with the weight of aeons. When he finally spoke, his voice was a hollow rasp. A whisper that struck like thunder in her ears.

"You do not belong here, Weaver of Dreams."

Winter met his gaze with a smirk.

"Neither do you. Yet here we are."

The shadows around them trembled as the battlefield shifted once more. The bodies of the fallen gods twitched. Their hollowed forms reanimated with the last remnants of corrupted will. Spectral warriors rose from the ashes. Their eyes glazed with unnatural hunger. The nightmare was awakening, drawn to Vortharu's presence like vultures to a feast.

Winter lifted a hand, and the darkness around her twisted in response. Where nightmares sought to consume her, she bent them to her will. The air shimmered as strands of divinity curled around her fingers, forming intricate sigils that pulsed with eerie luminescence.

"I am not here to fight you, Vortharu," she said calmly.

"But if you stand in my way, I will not hesitate to put you down."

Vortharu's chuckle was devoid of mirth.

"You think this is a choice? This war never ended. It merely sleeps. And now, it stirs once more."

The ground beneath them splintered, and a tide of abyssal energy erupted forth. The spectres lunged, their twisted forms howled in wordless rage. Winter moved with calculated precision. She weaved through the chaos as her sigils flared to life. A burst of ethereal fire engulfed the nearest wraiths, unravelling their existence into fading wisps. Yet for every one she destroyed, more rose to take its place.

'Tch,' Winter scoffed as she eyed the numerous warriors, ghosts, and other dark things charging toward her. 'I can't fight these numbers.' Her scrutiny shifted to the cause of this mess.

However, Vortharu did not attack. He merely watched.

Winter gritted her teeth. 'So, this is a test.'

A pulse of power surged from within her as she activated a Miracle, and the nightmare bent to her will in response. The battlefield froze, and the enemies halted mid-strike even as their forms flickered uncertainly. The sky above them fractured. A moment later, a great rift split the heavens apart, revealing the void beyond.

Vortharu tilted his head.

"Interesting. You wield the dream as a weapon, yet you act like a novice. I see the new generation is still young and hasn't come into their full powers yet by your actions."

'Shit. Why is he interested in how strong we new Gods are?' She frowned as she wondered if she had given her enemy vital information. 'He's trapped here, right? He's only a ghost of the God he was supposed to be. This fraction shouldn't be able to leave the inheritance.'

Winter's breath was steady, but she felt the strain of holding the nightmare at bay.

"I understand more than you think."

Vortharu remained silent for a long moment before he stepped forward. The battlefield reacted as it pulled back, retreating into the abyss of Vortharu's shadow as if fearful of his approach. When he stood before Winter, he reached out. Not in a gesture of violence, but in an offering. A fragment of shadow coiled in his palm, shifting and writhing like a venomous snake.

"The past does not forget," he murmured.

"And neither should anyone else."

Winter hesitated, her gaze locked onto the shifting fragment. A piece of the nightmare itself. A gift? Had she passed the trial so easily? Was this one of the fragments like Exile held?

A complicated expression marred Winter's face as she stared at the fragment with greed. Still, the thought of where it came from disgusted her. 'With this, we can turn the wars in our favour. We need this. I... need this.'

She met his gaze once more.

"I will take it. But you must release the other mortals."

"Done," Vortharu grinned beneath his mask.

"Finally, a worthy successor. My dreams won't end here."

"Wha..."

Reaching out, Vortharu grasped her hand. The shadow fragment snaked around Winter's wrist before burrowing under her skin. A moment later, the nightmare shattered.

The battlefield collapsed in upon itself, the echoes of the past howled as they were dragged back into the abyss. The light of the waking world broke through the barrier and swallowed the darkness whole. But through it all, Winter remained, standing alone amidst the unravelling nightmare.

A smile played on her lips as she briefly thought about the relief she delivered to all those tortured souls. 'I hope you all can finally rest in peace.'

Then, she awoke with a sharp breath. The cold air of the forest bit at her skin even as sunlight broke through the canopy for the first time in centuries. 'So much of this forest was an illusion.' She sighed as she noticed the trees were no longer grouped so tightly together. The shadows of the nightmare still clung to her thoughts, but she had gained something.

Knowledge. And a name that had long been forgotten.

Vortharu had not been erased. He had been waiting.

Her gaze shifted to the three NPCs sleeping beside her. Their breathing had returned to normal, and Ania was regaining some colour to her face. 'They should wake up after a bit of rest. Fighting against a nightmare and your fears is exhausting.' Winter chuckled to herself even as she felt the air becoming charged with electricity.

A moment later, Exile arrived in a flash of light. His chest heaved as his gaze immediately fell on Ania. Winter didn't miss the flash of relief that crossed his face as he studied the woman's condition. 'Oh, Colt. You should be more honest about your feelings.'

She couldn't help but smile to herself. 'It's only a game. There's no harm in indulging yourself.'

"What happened?" Exile finally questioned once he was satisfied that everyone was safe.

"It was an Inheritance of a Dark God. Vortharu..."

It took Winter some time to explain everything. And Exile didn't want to miss a single detail. He was especially interested in the state of the old battlegrounds in the nightmares, how the Fallen looked, and their powers. It was only when Winter reached the end of her tale that a look of concern flashed through his eyes as he studied her.

"You've gained a fragment of darkness?"

"Yeah, I got the notification when he transferred it to me."

Exile scratched his head as his thoughts spun. 'It shouldn't be that easy. He didn't state what he was looking for, and he was a little too eager to pass it on. Or maybe... he was just mad. Am I overthinking things?' Maybe it was just his paranoia.

"Well, as long as everyone's ok we can deal with this later."

Winter smiled as Exile turned to look in the distance. Then, a darkness flashed across her eyes. Just for a brief moment...

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