29. The Guardian’s Trap

The wyrm lies dead before us, its colossal body collapsed like a fallen mountain upon the forest floor. The heavy air that clung to the trees begins to lift—but not for long. Something else still lurks. Unseen, yet unmistakably present.

I’m exhausted, my hands trembling from the strain. Shadow, though, hasn’t lost an ounce of his strength—at least not outwardly. But his eyes are dark, storm-ridden, as if a whirlwind of thoughts is churning within him. When our eyes meet, I see something in his face I haven’t seen before. Something deeper. More grave.

“We did it,” I say, breathless, as I slowly approach him.

But he doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t smile, as I expected. There’s no relief in his gaze—only a growing unease, spreading like a shadow with every passing second. Something’s wrong. I feel it. And so does he.

“It wasn’t just the wyrm,” Shadow murmurs, his voice low and laced with suspicion.

A chill snakes down my spine. The air no longer feels fresh. No longer feels clean. It’s not just the creature we’ve been running from. Something far greater has been unleashed—something older. More dangerous. It has been waiting. Watching. And now it’s made its first move.

“What does that mean?” I ask, my eyes locked on the wyrm’s body as it begins to disintegrate—crumbling into ash like an illusion unraveling in the wind.

Shadow looks at me as though weighing how much truth to give, how much to spare me. But at last, he speaks—the only truth that remains to us now.

“The wyrm was a pawn, Eve. A distraction. We weren’t fighting it. We were being watched.”

The world crashes down around me. My legs nearly give way, but I force myself to stand. The weight of his words lands like a hammer blow. If the wyrm wasn’t the true enemy… then who—what—has been pulling the strings?

Shadow doesn’t come closer. Instead, he looks up at the starlit sky, as if searching for something in the vastness above—something only he can see. His eyes gleam with a volatile mix of sorrow and fury, a dangerous storm of emotion I’ve come to know all too well.

“The guardian,” he continues, his voice hard as iron. “The being that’s been manipulating everything from the start. It wasn’t just a shadow in the woods. It’s something older. Something ancient. And it’s been waiting… for this.”

My fingers tighten around the dagger still clutched in my hand. The idea that we’ve been manipulated from the beginning, cast in roles we didn’t choose, enrages me. How could we have missed it? How could we fall into its trap so blindly?

“What do we do now?” I ask, my voice low, the weight of uncertainty pressing in.

Silence stretches between us. Though the tension thickens the air, there’s something else—something I can’t name. A hollowness. Like we’re standing on the edge of a place that doesn’t belong to us, a space between worlds where nothing is certain.

Then, Shadow steps toward me. His eyes hold a seriousness I’ve never seen, and his stance radiates a certainty that’s more unsettling than reassuring.

“We face the guardian,” he says with quiet steel. “There’s no other choice.”

The guardian. The one moving all the pieces from the shadows. The dark being at the heart of everything: the wyrm, the shifting forest, the ever-present dread. It all leads to this.

There’s no time for hesitation. I see it in his eyes—the decision has been made. We can’t run. We can’t look back. The only path now is forward.

“Then let’s go,” I answer, a resolve rising in my chest I didn’t know still lived there. Every word a vow. Every step toward the guardian a challenge. Though fear coils inside me like smoke, I know there is no turning back. Shadow is right. It’s this… or the darkness.

Then, a strange sensation takes hold—something shifts in the air around us. A vibration beneath our feet, threading through the roots of the trees, moving through us like a pulse. The forest, once still, now breathes with a life of its own. An ancient presence wakes.

The guardian. It’s near. Too near.

I grip the dagger tighter. My eyes fix on Shadow, who does not waver, his gaze locked on the path ahead. The darkness stretching before us is thick, opaque—almost tangible. It feels like it’s swallowing everything in its path.

“He’s here,” Shadow whispers, almost to himself. His voice is low, taut with tension. A warning more than a statement. Fear is in him—but so is will.

A crack of branches. A flicker in the shadows. Something stirs.

And then we see them.

Two glowing eyes—like coals burning in the fog—peer at us from the darkness. Watching. Waiting.

The guardian has arrived.

Shadow steps forward, body coiled like a bow, ready. My breath catches, heart pounding. I still can’t see the creature’s full form. The shadows veil it like a cloak, thick and choking, hiding its true shape.

“Stay close, Eve,” Shadow murmurs—and I know it’s not just for protection. There’s something more in his voice. Something beyond fear. He’s walking into the unknown. And somehow, that fills me with both terror and hope.

The worst is yet to come.

And we both know it.

The battle for everything has only just begun.