Chapter 45: Awakeners
My mind felt hazy... foggy, translucent—just like the Sporb itself. Before I knew it—
I was teleported.
A rush of disorientation gripped me as I stumbled forward, my boots scuffing against uneven stone. The sensation of shifting space clung to my skin, like the aftertaste of a dream. I inhaled sharply, my senses scrambling to adjust as the world around me settled.
The town square stretched before me, shrouded in eerie silence.
’So, this is Duskholm, huh?’
It was vastly different from my realm. Wooden houses lined the streets, their shutters sealed tight. Cobblestone roads wove through the town, leading to storefronts at the square’s edges. The architecture was old-fashioned, medieval even, but something about it felt... off.
And most prominently—the sky.
A dull, endless dusk blanketed the realm, devoid of stars, light, or even a proper stillness. Just an oppressive ceiling of darkened clouds, casting elongated shadows across the town. The air was thick, neither cold nor warm, just stagnant—as if time itself had been drained from this place.
I frowned. The settlement was nestled between jagged mountain peaks, their sharp edges looming like silent sentinels. Despite the hour, an unnatural quiet settled over everything. No voices. No clatter of merchants or distant chatter. Just a deep, unsettling absence.
The town wasn’t just still.
It was hiding.