Entry #6

The ship touched land with the groan of old wood and worn sails. One by one, the survivors disembarked, their feet landing on soft soil for the first time since the fires of Atrium.

Louis stepped forward, eyes scanning the strange terrain.

Dense forest surrounded the beach, cloaked in mist. Trees twisted unnaturally, their bark gnarled and blackened. The air felt heavy, like something was watching—breathing.

“I don’t like this,” Louis murmured. “There’s something wrong here.”

And then the shadows moved.

Humanoid figures—pitch-black and twisted—emerged from the woods. Their eyes glowed faintly. They ran, silent and swift.

“Get back on the ship!” Louis shouted. “Now!”

The refugees screamed as the shadows charged. Louis raised his arm toward the waves and drew water into the air, freezing it into the shape of a gleaming sword.

The blade pulsed with elemental energy.

He stood alone, facing the onslaught.

Slash.

He cut one down.

Two more took its place.

“They don’t die…” he breathed. “What are these things?!”

He turned to the others. “Protect your families! All able-bodied men, fight beside me! Disregard your fear! Protect what you cherish!”

His cry stirred the crowd. Fathers, sons, brothers stepped forward. They armed themselves with whatever they could—broken planks, farming tools, scraps of steel.

“We fight!” Louis shouted. “Until every last shadow falls!”

The battle raged.

Blood mixed with ash as the shadows kept coming. Louis’s burns ached. Every breath was fire, every movement a scream.

“ARGHHHHH!”

Still, he fought on.

A man stumbled beside him. “We’re losing ground!”

Another shoved him upright. “Then stand up! That man is fighting for people he doesn’t even know! Don’t you dare fall!”

Louis collapsed to one knee, a black blade piercing his side.

“I made a promise…” he gasped.

Giuseppe stood frozen on the ship’s deck, watching his savior fall.

“Lord Delacroix!!!”

Deeper in the forest, armored boots pounded against the mossy ground.

A tall female figure in emerald-plated armor sprinted through the trees, drawn by the echo of screams.

She burst through the canopy just in time to see Louis collapse, the battlefield drenched in shadow.

Her eyes widened. “The Xeolstor… How did they reach here?”

With a war cry, she leapt forward, her twin blades glowing green.

In a single sweeping arc, she obliterated the shadow beasts—cutting through them as if they were smoke. The tide of battle stopped. Silence followed.

A man shielded his face, expecting death. Instead, nothing came.

He opened his eyes.

“They’re gone?”

The armored woman stood tall. “This land was never meant for mortals.”

“But you saved us!” a voice called out.

The warrior hesitated. “I’m glad you live. But you cannot remain here.”

Giuseppe stepped forward, trembling. “Please… we have nowhere else to go. Help us.”

She looked at him—into him—and sighed.

“Come with me.”

Louis woke in a room woven from white linens and gentle sunlight. The scent of herbs filled the air. He sat up, panicked.

“The people—where are they?!”

He pushed open the flap of the tent.

Outside, the refugees sat in circles, eating fresh fruit and bread. The children laughed. And at the center of it all stood the armored woman—now unmasked—serving meals and giving orders.

Louis looked down at his hands.

His burns… were gone.

“You’re healed,” said a voice behind him.

Louis turned to find a glowing man bathed in golden light, tall and regal.

“Who are you?” Louis asked. “Why do you glow?”

“I am Talos,” the man said. “You were brought here by my daughter. Now, I invite you to walk with me.”

Inside a great tent adorned with runes, Louis sat across from the radiant figure of Talos.

“So… what are you exactly?” Louis asked.

Talos smiled softly. “So the world truly has forgotten us. Once, we were called gods. Now we are a myth.”

Louis clenched his fists. “We stopped believing in gods. You let the world burn. You cursed us with these powers!”

A red-haired woman entered, her presence warm like a summer breeze. “Curse?”

Louis turned, agitated. “Yes.”

He waved his hand—and the grass outside the tent grew rapidly, wild and uncontrolled.

The woman blinked. “Father… the grass—it’s flourishing.”

Talos nodded solemnly. “So she has twisted our gifts.”

“She?” Louis asked.

A breeze swept through the tent. Another figure appeared behind him—eyes pale as clouds, presence cold and hollow.

“Our mother,” he said.

Talos turned to him. “My children, please join us.”

They entered the tent one by one.

Talos raised his hand. “Each of my children once ruled over an element—the essence that shapes the world.”

Louis nodded. “Earth. Fire. Water. Wind. Lightning. Ice. Nature.”

“Correct,” Talos said. “But their mother—my wife—stole their divine essence. She gave it to mortals… you. Your powers are the remnants of gods.”

Louis’s face hardened. “Then she is the reason we suffer.”

Talos bowed his head. “Yes. But I am powerless to reverse what she’s done. My body is wounded beyond repair.”

A tall green-haired woman stepped forward and bowed slightly.

“I am Ama-Lurra,” she said. “I saved your people and healed your wounds. I hold dominion over Nature.”

Louis rose. “Thank you, Ama-Lurra. Without you, we’d be gone.”

Next came a man cloaked in frost.

“I am Olentzero, ruler of Ice.”

Louis whispered to Ama-Lurra, “He seems cold—no pun intended.”

She gave a bittersweet smile. “He’s been this way since our sister died.”

Louis paused. “Sister?”

Ama-Lurra lowered her gaze. “Her name was Ran. She ruled over Water. Olentzero was closest to her.”

Talos spoke gently. “She was lost during the rebellion. Her essence now flows through those who can wield water… like you.”

Olentzero turned and left. “If I’m no longer needed, I will return to slay the Xeolstors.”

He vanished in a blink.

A thunderous laugh boomed through the tent.

“Hahaha! Here comes the ruler of Lightning and Thunder!” A muscular figure entered, arms crossed proudly. “I am Odei!”

Louis chuckled nervously. “Hello.”

Odei stepped forward. “I hear you can fight. I want to test you.”

“I don’t fight for sport,” Louis said calmly. “I fight to protect the defenseless.”

A woman in robes entered, graceful as the wind. “Greetings, Outsider. I am Aide, mistress of the Skies and Wind.”

Louis nodded. “An honor, Lady Aide.”

Lastly, a stern, flame-eyed man entered.

“I am Illazki. Smith of the gods. I rule over Fire.”

Louis took a breath. “So... Ama-Lurra, Olentzero, Odei, Aide, Illazki.”

“I’ll remember your names.”

Talos folded his hands. “Now, let’s speak of purpose.”

Louis’s expression hardened. “You brought us here for a reason.”

“Yes,” Talos said. “The powers your people carry were never meant for mortals. But I cannot take them back—not until I am whole again.”

Louis stood. “Then can you promise, once healed, you’ll remove these powers from us?”

Talos met his gaze. “You want a contract. I understand.”

“Yes,” Louis said. “My people want freedom from these so-called gifts. We never asked for them.”

Talos nodded solemnly. “Then I swear it. But there is a condition.”

Louis waited.

“You must fight beside us in the war against my wife… and the Grimmspawn she commands. Help us restore balance, and I will purge the divine from mortal blood.”

Louis extended his hand. “Then it’s a deal.”

Talos reached forward.

Their hands met, and the pact was made.

Entry# 6 End