945: Story 945: Whispers of the Cursed Gate 945: Story 945: Whispers of the Cursed Gate The void shifted, twisting in unnatural ways as the survivors stood before the massive, ancient gate.
It lood beneath a moon too large, too bright, casting elongated shadows that moved on their own.
The iron bars of the gate weren’t tal—they were bone, fused together with crimson sinew, pulsating like a thing alive.
Draven adjusted his grip on his shotgun.
“This feels like a trap.”
Elias scoffed, his fingers brushing the revolver at his hip.
“Because it is.”
Mira stepped closer, the Cursed Book vibrating in her arms.
“The Hollow Man said we need a key.” Her voice was tight, uncertain.
“That ans it’s here sowhere.”
The ground beneath them shuddered.
Rotting hands burst through the soil, clawing their way free.
The dead—not zombies, but sothing worse—erged.
Their skin was stretched too thin, their mouths locked in expressions of endless suffering.
Whispers poured from their gaping lips, voices layered in agony and malice.
Zara yanked her daggers free.
“Guess we’ve got company.”
The first creature lunged.
Draven fired, the blast tearing it in half—but it didn’t fall.
Instead, its torso crawled forward, ribs snapping outward like spider legs.
Mira gasped.
“They don’t die like normal.”
Elias flicked his lighter open.
“Then we do it the old-fashioned way.” He tossed the fla—a hungry, blue fire erupted, devouring the whispering dead.
Their wails rose, curling through the air like dying echoes.
The gate pulsed, reacting to the carnage.
And then, it spoke.
“One must enter alone.”
The voice ca from nowhere and everywhere.
The sky rippled.
The moon bled black ichor, dripping onto the earth that swallowed the blood like a hungry mouth.
Draven clenched his jaw.
“Hell no.
We do this together.”
The gate shook, bones cracking apart.
“One must enter… or all remain.”
Mira’s eyes darted to the book.
Its pages flipped violently, revealing words written in a hand not her own.
One will walk through the gate.
One will not return.
Zara swore.
“I hate magic.”
The whispering dead rose again, their bodies reforming, faces distorted by the endless tornt of those who ca before.
The gate wouldn’t wait forever.
Elias sighed, taking a step forward.
“I’ll do it.”
Mira grabbed his wrist.
“No.” Her voice was a whisper.
“It’s not that simple.”
Draven’s hands curled into fists.
“Then who?”
Before anyone could answer, the ground beneath them cracked open.
A figure crawled from the darkness, her body wrapped in shadow and ruin.
Her eyes glowed like dying embers, her small hands clutching a rusted key.
The Forsaken Girl.
She looked up at them, face devoid of fear or hope.
“I was always ant to go first,” she whispered.
And then, before they could stop her, she stepped through the gate.
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