Echoed Lands

As Colm finally approached the structure, he strained to take it in through the darkness, using the faint hints of moonlight to piece together its details. It was a wall, partially destroyed and crumbling, a relic of better days long gone.

Moving along the wall's edge, he rounded the corner and froze as the sight beyond came into view—a ruined town sprawled amidst the trees. The remnants of many stone structures, likely once thriving buildings, sprawled throughout the area, their decay clear in every crumbled wall and overgrown corner.

Colm's heart sank. There were no obvious signs of life, only silence and abandonment. With a weary sigh, he sat down, allowing the desolate sight to wash over him. It's hard to make much of anything out, he muttered, his voice tinged with disappointment. But I can see enough to know what state this place is in.

His hope, fragile as it was, shattered in an instant. He had tried not to get ahead of himself, reminding himself repeatedly to temper his expectations. But after the long and arduous journey, hope had crept in regardless, fragile yet persistent. Now, it slipped through his grasp like sand, leaving behind only frustration and emptiness.

The rows of ruined houses made his chest ache, stirring memories of his life back on Earth. He remembered the neighborhoods he used to walk through—trimmed lawns, children playing in the yards, the smell of barbecues in the air. It felt like a lifetime ago, and the contrast between those lively streets and this decaying ghost town hit him hard. This place could have been like that once, he thought. Filled with life. Now it's just gone.

He gazed at the remnants of the village, sadness weighing on him as he tried to process what lay before him.

"It's destroyed, and it looks like there's no one left," Colm grumbled to himself. "I'll at least look around and see if I can find anything."

With that, he turned toward the village and moved forward. He commanded Lance and Robin to scout the area and clear any undead threats while he began his search. Almost immediately, notifications began flooding his vision of the undead being slain. Colm sighed, muttering, "They're never ending. I can always count on undead to be around."

He walked down what he imagined had once been a cobblestone street, now cracked and overgrown, and stopped in front of the remains of what appeared to have been a house. It was little more than a decrepit structure with four crumbling walls and what remained of a roof now collapsed inward; the rubble strewn across the floor.

The house was a decent size—roughly equivalent to a two-bedroom home back on Earth. Colm, ever cautious, sent Carver inside first to ensure there were no surprises. After a tense minute, the phantom returned, its spectral form unscathed. Taking this as a sign that it was safe, Colm stepped inside, keeping Carver close by his side.

Colm slowly crept through the ruined building, searching every nook and cranny for clues—anything that could shed light on this world or his location within it. But his search yielded nothing of value, only crumbled remnants of the structure.

What struck him as strange, however, was how modern the ruins felt, almost comparable to something from Earth. As he explored, he identified what he thought might have been a bathroom and a kitchen. At one point, he spotted fragments of metal, though its exact nature was unclear. Despite these observations, there was nothing truly noteworthy to uncover.

With a heavy sigh, Colm stepped out of the crumbling house and onto the overgrown street. He glanced down the road, where rows of ruined houses stretched endlessly into the distance. It's like a major street or a subdivision, he mused, the sheer number of structures making him groan inwardly. This is going to take forever to search.

With a faint smirk, he made a sarcastic mental note towards his phantoms. We might be here a while, so let's make it interesting—whoever racks up the most undead kills wins.

Despite the mounting frustration, Colm's determination remained unshaken. Gritting his teeth, he moved toward the next set of ruins, ready to continue his search through the abandoned, haunting remnants of this desolate town.

As Colm moved through the next five ruins, the results were the same—nothing. Each structure had decayed beyond recognition, offering no clues or items of value. "Just how old are these ruins?" he muttered to Carver, who stood silently by his side.

With no better option, he pressed onward, his phantoms continuing to clear the surrounding area. Notifications steadily flooded his vision, but Colm paid them little mind, his focus fixed on searching for something—anything—of significance.

By the time he reached his thirtieth house, faint rays of sunlight began piercing through the canopy, casting a soft glow over the village. Colm was about to pause for a breather when something unusual caught his eye—a piece of ruins near another building across the street, on the side he hadn't yet explored.

Approaching, he saw a weathered stone resembling a sign, symbols faintly etched into its surface. At first, the markings were indecipherable, but then he felt the familiar pull of the Universal Language perk from his Through the Rift achievement. The symbols shifted in his mind, resolving into clear, readable words. Brimwhistle Inn.

Stolen story; please report.

Colm's eyes narrowed as he stared at the sign, curiosity stirring within him. An inn? Is that the name of this place? He thought, a glimmer of hope rising amidst the endless decay. This, at least, was something tangible, a connection to whatever life had once existed here.

Many days later, Colm meticulously searched through the ruins of Brimwhistle. During his exploration, Colm found several more stone carvings that included the same term, strengthening his belief that this place was once known as Brimwhistle.

Unfortunately, his supply of Celestial Blooms ran out far faster than he had expected, and he found no clean water to drink. This surprised him, as he distinctly remembered finding fresh water on his first day in this forsaken forest. As dehydration set in, Colm grew increasingly desperate. I can't let this become another trial like the one I endured in the Grove. I might go insane and not be able to come back, he thought grimly.

Reluctantly, he used the Portal to the Lucent Grove ability from his Champion of the Lucent Grove achievement as he was getting desperate for water. The process required about fifteen minutes of focused effort to summon the portal, which he discovered remained open for one hour or until he closed it himself.

Once inside the Grove, Colm made an interesting discovery. The portal dropped him at the Grove's entrance point and had no visible rift present. This initially sent Colm into a panic—he feared being trapped in the Grove. But he soon realized that if he used the Portal to the Lucent Grove ability again, it transported him back to the exact spot he had initially departed from.

Relief and excitement quickly followed as he understood the potential of this newfound control. It's like my own pocket dimension, he thought, a grin spreading across his face. I could build a home here with food, water, and all the necessities. With how things are now, I never have to worry about dehydration or starving again and I always have a safe space to sleep at night.

The idea filled him with hope and renewed determination, a sense of stability in a world otherwise defined by chaos.

Day after day, Colm settled into a relentless routine: searching ruins, commanding his phantoms to slay countless undead, and returning to the Lucent Grove to recover. This cycle became his new normal, driven by the hope that somewhere in this desolate town, he would find a clue—something to justify his efforts.

After inspecting the ruins along what he dubbed as the main street, Colm scouted the outskirts, curious about the city's size. As he continued circling the ruins, the sheer scale of the place left him awestruck. This isn't just a town—this was a major city, he thought, realizing it took over an hour to traverse from one end to the other, even with his enhanced speed.

Determined to focus his efforts, Colm scanned the city for major points of interest and worked his way through them systematically. First, he headed to what he believed was the city's center, only to find a massive crater.

Scorch marks lined the edges of the crater, and mounds of skeletons lay scattered as if this had been someone's last stand years ago. Yet, the center was eerily empty, as if everything there had been burned to ash or completely vaporized.

"Whatever happened here," Colm muttered, his voice low, "the thing that caused this was strong. Stronger than where I'm at now. I don't think I could make a crater like this—or leave marks like these—even with my current strength."

He stared into the void at the crater's heart, unease creeping into his thoughts. Just how powerful was the force that did this? And what became of it?

Colm stood frozen, stunned by the sheer devastation and power that the crater represented. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface in the absence of any meaningful clues, but he refused to let it defeat him. Determined, he turned his attention to other potential landmarks.

Yet, as he pressed on, disappointment followed. Every structure he approached was the same—rubble and ruins, the shattered remnants of what once was, offering no answers to the questions burning in his mind.

Finally, frustration boiled over. Colm kicked a rock, his voice echoing through the empty streets. "Why is there nothing?! There should be a book, notes—something!" His shout faded into the silence of the ruined city, leaving him alone with his exasperation and the endless questions the ruins refused to answer.

Despite his frustration, Colm refused to give up. After about ten more days of this relentless cycle, something unexpected happened.

The stillness of the night pressed in around him, broken only by the occasional groan of a distant undead. The ruins seemed even more oppressive under the moonlight, their jagged shadows clawing at the ground. Then, cutting through the silence, came the faintest sound—a whistle.

It wasn't the low, haunting wail of the wind, nor the muffled moans of the undead. It was deliberate, melodic, as if structured.

Intrigued, Colm immediately set off toward the sound, navigating the labyrinth of crumbling ruins. The whistle grew louder with every step, drawing him closer as he twisted and turned through the wreckage. Eventually, he found himself back near the city center, his pulse quickening as the sound seemed just within reach.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the whistle stopped.

Colm froze, his ears straining against the crushing silence that followed. The ruins seemed to hold their breath, the groans of the undead conspicuously absent.

Something had shifted, though Colm couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. A faint tang lingered in the air, sharp and unnatural, and a subtle vibration beneath his feet made the ruins feel alive unnervingly. His hand instinctively tightened around his spear as his eyes darted across the desolate surroundings. What the hell was that?

He glanced around, searching for any clue, but the ruins remained as empty and lifeless as before. No movements, no signs—just the same crumbling walls and overgrown debris. Scratching his head in mounting frustration, he let out a heavy sigh. "I can't tell where it came from. There's nothing here. Maybe I'll just chalk it up to magic and keep searching."

And then, just as suddenly as the whistle had disrupted the stillness, everything seemed to return to its grim normalcy. The eerie silence reclaimed the ruins, broken only by the distant, haunting groans of the undead. It was as if the sound had never existed, leaving Colm with more questions than answers.