The sky wasn't entirely dark.
But it knew no light either.
Above the ancient battlefield, time seemed unmoving.
Bones scattered—not mere remnants, but lingering wills left unfinished.
Cael walked slowly.
Each step felt like waking something that should've stayed asleep.
Rania wiped her sweat, unsure whether it came from the heat or her unease.
"Did this place… once host a battle of the Creatures here?" she whispered.
No one answered.
Yudha exhaled heavily, staring at a helmet half-buried in dust.
"These bones… they don't decay. Don't rot. As if they never really died."
Cael stood still, then replied without turning:
> "They died… but they weren't finished."
Rania turned quickly. "What do you mean?"
Cael looked down, eyeing a broken sword—veined with cracks like dried rivers.
> "True death doesn't come when the body breaks.
But when their names are no longer spoken by anyone."
The sky rumbled.
Not with thunder—but with a moan, far away, beyond the horizon.
---
As they ventured deeper, the air changed.
Not just hot. But heavy—like their souls were wrapped in invisible mist.
Then, the whispers came.
Not from outside.
But from within.
> "You could be more… than you think," the voice whispered in Yudha's mind.
"Just take one step beyond them…"
Yudha's face hardened. He glanced at Cael for a second… then looked away.
---
Rania stumbled. Her hand brushed against an old helmet, and suddenly her breath caught.
A vision struck her mind—
She saw a woman in blood-red armor, screaming silently beneath a rain of black arrows.
> "Don't look at me…
Look at yourself.
See how far you'd go to betray them…"
Rania went silent. But Cael noticed.
> "What did you see?" he asked, his voice calm, nearly inaudible.
Rania shook her head quickly. "Just… a shadow."
Cael asked no more.
He simply gazed at the sky, then closed his eyes.
---
They continued… until they found a shattered stone.
In its center, a strange ancient symbol: a circle split by three lines.
Cael touched it.
And instantly, the world fell silent.
"You listened, though you did not call."
The voice was deep. Heavy. As old as the world itself.
Cael spoke gently.
> "I don't know who you are. But we mean no harm… we're only seeking a way out."
"A way out?"
The voice laughed—without sound.
"There is no return. Time has swallowed all keys."
> "Then what remains for us?"
"Fortune. Or will."
"And maybe… fragments of fate that refuse to die."
---
Yudha approached. "What did you hear?"
Cael opened his eyes.
> "Only a warning. And… a vague offer."
---
They camped by the ruins.
Yudha grew silent. Rania stared at the sky, searching for stars that didn't exist.
Cael drew lines in the dirt with a stone—strange markings he didn't understand.
His hand moved on its own, like memories not his flowed through his fingers.
Their footsteps lost rhythm.
What once was a group, now fractured in silence and whispers.
Shapeless shadows murmured in their ears—not in human tongue,
but in desires buried deep within the soul.
Laughter began to echo.
But not laughter they knew—
it cracked, like dry leaves crushed by the weight of time.
Among them, Bu Alea stood, staring at an old stone wall carved with faded markings.
Her lips moved softly, reading words not written.
Her gaze empty—like her soul was walking elsewhere.
Cael watched.
Everything was too quiet to be coincidence.
> "They're hearing something, aren't they?"
A voice echoed within him, source unknown.
Cael replied in his heart:
> "Not hearing.
They're being promised."
---
One by one, they fell silent—or spoke to shadows.
Someone wept before an ancient spear.
Another drew symbols in the sand, whispering.
One simply sat, eyes fixed on the unchanging sky, waiting for something that would never come.
Cael stepped toward Bu Alea.
His heart tensed, but his feet didn't stop.
> "Bu Alea," he said softly.
"We need to leave. This place… holds something not meant for humans."
She turned.
Her smile was gentle, but beneath it lay something unexplainable.
> "Cael… have you ever felt the world isn't a mistake, but a calling?"
"Sometimes, what we find in cursed places… is the best version of ourselves long lost."
Cael paused. The wind stirred the dust at his feet.
> "But if that version grows from shadows… is it still us?"
---
The day did not change, but time kept moving.
Shadows danced outside logic, moving in ways no direction could explain.
Bu Alea remained, her gaze distant—too distant.
And the others became strangers.
Not because they changed form…
But because their voices no longer came from within.
Only Cael still stood fully present in this place.
Alone in a sanity that had become a heavy burden.
When steps grew silent,
when voices became tormenting echoes,
and when eyes saw not what was real—
that was when the battlefield began to whisper promises.
Not promises of return.
Not promises of salvation.
But something far deeper:
the life they wanted, but never had.
---
One of them, a student named Alvan, suddenly stopped walking.
His eyes stared at the sky, but his pupils no longer reflected this world.
> "Mother… Father…" he whispered, raising his hand as if to embrace the wind.
"You… came for me?"
His face grew calm. Too calm.
Rania smiled at red flowers that had never bloomed before in that barren field.
> "Beautiful… I can finally sing without shame… They're listening now…"
Yudha, the rational one, knelt before a stone pillar like a throne.
He spoke in a language no one understood.
> "This power… is mine… all shall bow… all…"
---
Cael stood in their midst, eyes scanning each one.
The world tilted from reason,
but he knew this wasn't a dream.
It was a living illusion, feeding on wounds in the human heart.
He could feel it.
For this battlefield held not only remnants of death—
but also the desires of the dead.
And those spirits—
they used desire as a bridge.
> "Don't you want to be happy, Caeltharyn?"
The voice was soft. Like his mother's.
But she had long passed.
> "We can give you a family.
A world that accepts you.
Friends who never leave…"
Shadows appeared around him.
A simple wooden house.
The scent of warm cake.
A mother's hug.
A father's proud hand on his shoulder.
Friends smiling—not out of courtesy,
but because they truly saw him as a brother.
Cael looked at it all…
and slowly lowered his head.
> "Beautiful…"
His hand rose. Almost touched.
But then he stopped.
> "Too beautiful to be real."
---
He closed his eyes.
And when he opened them,
the house was gone.
The scent vanished.
The world returned to silence.
Only the battlefield greeted him—flat, barren, mute.
> "You touched their wounds, didn't you?" Cael murmured, eyes hollow.
"You didn't frighten them.
You made them forget this is hell."
In the distance, the spirits gave no reply.
But the air thickened.
Grew heavier.
And the illusions began to spiral into madness.
---
Some walked toward cliffs, thinking them paths home.
Others danced on burning sands, lost in imaginary festivals.
Some lay down, laughing, then crying without reason.
Cael knew—
if he did nothing…
they would never return.
Not to their world,
but to themselves.
What looked like comfort…
was actually a prison with no walls.
Illusion wasn't just escape—
it was a parasite feeding on who they were.
That was the highest form of cruelty:
turning happiness into torture.
The malevolent spirits of this ancient battlefield were no ordinary ghosts.
They were remnants of soldiers, kings, and sinners from forgotten times.
Beings who died without peace, desiring one thing:
souls still rich with longing.
---
And longing was the most nourishing meal.
The more humans clung to their hopes—
the sweeter their essence became.
They didn't pounce with claws.
They didn't roar with might.
They touched wounds… then offered sweet medicine.
---
> "Of course you want to be remembered."
"Of course you want to be accepted."
"Of course you want to be loved."
And when the answer "yes" echoed inside their hearts—
it became permission.
And the spirits began to drain—
like old roots drinking morning dew from fresh earth.
Rania, singing with joy… now had blue lips.
Alvan, who embraced the illusion of his mother… trembled like frostbitten leaves.
Yudha, smiling atop his shadowed throne… now cracked like parched soil.
They were being drained.
Not by time,
but by their own surrender.
---
Cael stood among them.
And he saw it—with the eyes of one who had broken, yet kept walking.
He knew: desire is a door.
But desire can also be a chain.
> "You didn't force them," Cael murmured.
"You just… waited for them to give themselves."
His steps were slow.
But his gaze sharp—cutting through the illusion that bound his friends.
> "You think suffering kills the soul's strength.
You're wrong.
What kills best is hope… given by darkness."
---
The air darkened. Sand twisted.
Laughter echoed from behind the veil.
And from the thickening shadow… a form began to rise.
Towering.
Shapeless.
Its body like smoke.
Its face formless—just two crimson eyes, burning in mist.
> "You're not like the others."
"You smell us… but you're not tempted."
Cael stared back, expression blank.
> "Because I want nothing from this world."
The creature laughed. A laugh that could make even stone weep.
> "Then what do you seek?"
Cael didn't answer right away.
He took a breath.
> "Perhaps just one thing."
"A place… where I don't have to be anyone."
---
And in that moment—
the wind changed direction.
The battlefield ceased its whispers.
And for the first time,
the spirits couldn't read a human's desire.
Because the one who desires nothing…
cannot be controlled.