Chapter 67: Whispering Stones


    As Abel and the group ventured deeper into the ruins, the air became thick and oppressive, the walls lined with decaying stone and the faint glow of Gerald’s mushroom casting flickering light over the dark surroundings. The sound of their footsteps echoed eerily, bouncing off the walls and returning as unsettling whispers. Abel didn’t need the mushroom’s light; his vision in the dark, a gift from his boon, sharpened his awareness, making him acutely aware of the unnatural presence around them. The deeper they went, the more the silence seemed alive, pressing down on them like a weight, and before long, the oppressive quiet gave way to something far worse.


    The voices began as a faint murmur, barely perceptible at first, but soon they swelled into a cacophony of distorted whispers rising from the stone itself. Abel''s senses sharpened as the whispers grew more intense, filling the air with a sinister energy. The chamber seemed to twist with malevolence, every stone and vine bearing a memory of ancient suffering. The voices grew louder, warping their words into cruel, mocking echoes.


    “Did you hear that?” Jane’s voice trembled, breaking the eerie silence. She glanced around, her usual calm rattled by the unfamiliar, haunting sound.


    Her words were mimicked, distorted into a taunt: “Did you hear that?” The voices laughed, cruel and mocking. Tina stiffened, the tension in her shoulders growing as the air seemed to press heavier upon them. A warped echo of her own voice followed soon after, dripping with derision: "You think you’re strong? You’re nothing.”


    Tina’s patience snapped first. “Is this some kind of joke, Abel?” she spat, her anger flaring as she turned to him, the tension getting the best of her. “You think this is funny? Are you mocking us too?”


    Abel blinked in shock, taken aback. “No, Tina, I—”


    Jane’s voice joined in, bitter and sharp. “Why are we relying on them, anyway? We could handle this ourselves.”


    The whispers fed off their anger, twisting their frustrations and insecurities into accusations. The group, once unified in purpose, seemed to fray at the edges, their emotions heightened by the dark energies coursing through the chamber.


    Gravedigger, standing slightly apart from the others, narrowed his eyes. He could feel it, the presence lingering in the air—something older, something cursed. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the room, until it fell on the bones. They were embedded in the very walls of the ruins, woven into the fabric of the stone itself. Ancient and cursed, the bones radiated a dark energy, pulsating with the agony of the lives trapped within them.


    "Enough," Gravedigger’s voice boomed, cutting through the escalating tension like a blade. His voice was commanding, a force that stilled the rising conflict. "It’s not us," he growled. "It’s the ruins. More specifically..." He trailed off, stepping toward the walls. “These bones."


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    As if in response to his words, the whispers rose again, screaming in a violent crescendo, but Gravedigger was unmoved. He placed his hand on the cold stone, feeling the ancient suffering that was etched into the bones. The bones, partially protruding from the wall, vibrated under his touch, rattling as if they were trying to break free from the curse that bound them.


    His massive femur bone strapped to his back began to glow faintly, a red light pulsing from within it. The room was bathed in an eerie crimson glow, casting shadows that flickered and danced along the walls, like specters born from the bones’ suffering. Gravedigger’s bone seemed to draw in the cursed energy from the room, feeding off the ancient pain as the whispers screamed in protest.


    "The bones are the source of the madness," Gravedigger said, his voice steady as the glow from his weapon intensified. "Prisoners left here to rot, their souls and bones cursed. This place is a relic of their suffering, an anomaly born from centuries of pain and hatred."


    With a sudden, deliberate motion, Gravedigger slammed his glowing femur into the stone. The entire chamber shuddered as a ripple of energy pulsed through the walls. The cursed energy surged, flowing into the femur like blood being drawn from a wound. The whispers grew louder, screaming in anguish as the bones relinquished their hold on the room.


    The glow of the femur grew brighter, turning from red to a brilliant, blinding crimson. An insignia—an ancient rune—etched itself into the bone, glowing with a power that pulsed in time with the ancient curse. Gravedigger knelt, his breath heavy as he absorbed the energy into his weapon.


    For a moment, the tension in the air hung thick around them. The energy surged, wild and untamed, before finally settling into a quiet hum. The whispers, once so loud and insistent, fell silent.


    Abel stepped forward cautiously, still shaken from the earlier confrontation. “Gravedigger... what did you do?”


    Gravedigger’s voice was heavy with weariness, his hand still gripping the femur tightly. “I absorbed the curse," he said, his voice low. “It’s contained for now, but it won’t be easy to keep it that way. There was something else, too—traces of a rune. I was lucky to come across this, It might take me time to absorb it and comprehend it, but this might be my most successful loot ever, but... we may have disturbed something that should’ve stayed buried."


    "What’s a rune?" Abel asked, curiosity and apprehension mixed in his tone.


    Gravedigger''s eyes narrowed. "You''ll find out in time."


    Ronald, sensing that the danger had passed, moved closer to Abel. “We can’t let this place turn us against each other. That curse—it was feeding off our emotions, using our fears and anger to break us.”


    Abel nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to stay united if we’re going to survive this.”


    Tina stood off to the side, arms crossed, her expression conflicted. Though she said nothing, the realization that the non-gifted had saved them gnawed at her pride. She wouldn’t admit it, but she knew that without them, they’d be dead.


    Gravedigger rose slowly, the glowing red insignia on the femur still pulsing with power. “We’ve neutralized this chamber, but the deeper we go, the more dangerous this place will become. We’ll rest for now, but stay alert. There’s more darkness here than we’ve seen.”


    The group, still rattled but resolute, pressed onward. Abel couldn’t shake the feeling that the ruins had only just begun to reveal their true horrors.