Lost from Shadows

Atlas kept walking, his steps light and steady as if he'd only just started. Normally, after so many hours of traversing rough terrain, his feet would ache, his legs would feel like lead, and his breath would grow ragged. But with Aether coursing through him, he felt no fatigue, only strength—an enhancement beyond what he'd ever imagined. Perhaps it was even something more than enhancement, an evolution meant for humanity. He couldn't help but wonder: what if everyone had this ability, not just a chosen few?

Were the gods planning for such a future, or were they content to let this power remain out of reach for most?

The white temple loomed ahead, so close that the brilliance of its structure almost hurt to look at. Sunlight, even in the dimming glow of dusk, bounced off the temple walls, making it appear almost alive—a blinding beacon amidst the dark embrace of the jungle. By night, it seemed like a spotlight cast down from some heavenly realm, beckoning him forward, yet warning him of what lay within.

Atlas glanced back at Ivan, who trailed a few steps behind, his expression unreadable but his gaze fixed on the temple. Ivan's face, normally calm and composed, had a slight tension to it, a quiet intensity that Atlas hadn't seen before.

Atlas gave a faint nod, though his own unease mirrored Ivan's. He turned his gaze back to the temple and stepped forward, crossing the boundary of its ancient entrance. The air inside was still, unnaturally so, as if they'd stepped into a place cut off from time itself. Atlas felt the hairs on his arms stand up. It was more than just silence; it was a deep, impenetrable void, charged with energy and watchfulness.

The interior was vast and labyrinthine, with pale stone walls etched with unreadable symbols that seemed to ripple in the dim light. Statues lined the walls—figures twisted in pain, some reaching out as if pleading for release. Atlas had seen many strange things since he'd first encountered Aether, but the atmosphere here felt different, almost sentient, as if the temple itself was a living, breathing entity judging their every move.

They took a few cautious steps, their footfalls muffled on the cool stone. The shadows seemed to pulse and move with each step they took, playing tricks on his vision. Then, suddenly, his senses flared, and he froze.

"Wait," he whispered, holding up a hand. "There's something… just ahead."

In the dim light, he saw the faint outline of a narrow line stretching across their path, barely visible. Squinting, he noticed the line connected to a series of tiny, nearly invisible carvings along the walls.

He took a careful step back, studying the mechanisms. The trap seemed woven into the architecture itself, part of the very stone that held the temple together. Ivan knelt down beside him, tracing the line of the trap with his eyes.

Atlas lifted his foot with care, stepping over the tripwire. Ivan followed, matching his caution, and they passed without incident. But as they moved deeper, Atlas felt an uncomfortable tingling at the base of his spine—an instinctual warning. This place was more than just a temple; it was a gauntlet.

Not a few steps further, he felt another hum in the air, this one even fainter. Peering into the surrounding gloom. There, concealed in the stone above, was a series of small, circular holes. He stopped short, scanning the ground and realizing that there was a hidden pressure plate nestled into the floor just ahead of them.

They sidestepped the plate with equal care, but just as they cleared it, a faint click echoed in the corridor. Both of them froze. In an instant, the walls came to life, panels sliding open to reveal rows of razor-sharp darts primed to launch. Atlas acted on instinct, grabbing Ivan warping two meters backwards as the darts whizzed past, embedding into the opposite wall with lethal precision.

Atlas's pulse was pounding. But still they pressed on, making their way through the temple's maze of deadly defenses, each trap more cunning and concealed than the last. Aether-pulsing runes on the floor, illusionary walls that hid spikes, and even sections of the ceiling that shifted, ready to crush any who dared tread too close.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached a wide staircase spiraling upward, leading into the murky shadows above. Atlas felt a chill as he looked up, the sense of watchfulness more intense here than anywhere else in the temple. It was as if the air itself was thick with malice, a concentrated presence waiting just beyond sight.

They began the climb, their footsteps echoing up the spiraling steps. As they ascended, Atlas noticed faint traces of Black Aether swirling above, almost like a mist that lingered near the top. The further they climbed, the stronger the oppressive feeling became, pressing down on his chest, filling his lungs with a sense of dread.

At last, they reached the top, and there it was—a creature waiting for them in the vast hall above, hidden in shadow but unmistakable in form. It was as if darkness itself had taken shape, a towering figure forged from pure shadow. Its legs were bent and jackal-like, powerful and sinewy, while curved horns jutted from its head, casting long, twisted shadows across the stone. The creature's eyes, white and unblinking, shone with an ancient and malevolent intelligence, fixed directly on Atlas.

Black Aether poured from its body in heavy waves, filling the room with a tangible, choking fear that settled deep in Atlas's bones. He could barely breathe, his instincts screaming at him to flee, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the creature before him. But behind the creature, he saw it—a small, vine-wrapped key resting on a throne of roots and stone. The key seemed impossibly out of place, a fragile thing amid the nightmarish scene.

Then, without warning, the creature's head snapped toward him with blinding speed. In an instant, it lunged forward, crossing the distance in a heartbeat. Atlas barely had time to react, his body moving purely on reflex,trying to warp to the side as the creature's claws slashed through the space he had just occupied.

But he was too slow.

The claws raked across him, tearing through flesh and bone like they were nothing. Pain exploded in his chest as he staggered back, blood spilling onto the cold stone floor. His vision blurred, the world tilting as the creature loomed over him, ready to strike again.

Then, the scene dissolved.

Atlas blinked, his heart still pounding, but he was no longer wounded. He was back at the foot of the staircase, unharmed. Ivan was beside him, his hand still resting on Atlas's shoulder, his expression grim.

"That… that was a vision?" Atlas stammered, the memory of the pain still fresh in his mind.

Ivan nodded. "A glimpse of what will happen if we continue unprepared. That creature… it's Exalted."

The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Exalted—a rank of power beyond what Atlas had ever faced. It was higher than a paragon and something that no human should have to go against. This was a Demi-god.