We moved through the skeletal remains of the city in a formation that would have made my old gym teacher weep with pride. Kaelen glided ahead with Nolan lumbering beside him, his heavy breaths echoing slightly in the oppressive quiet. I brought up the rear with Bartholomew perched regally on my shoulder, his tail occasionally twitching against my ear.

  The silence was the worst part. It wasn’t the peaceful quiet of a forest at dawn; it was a hungry, waiting silence. The kind that presses in on you, making the crunch of your own boots on gravel sound like a gunshot. The city itself was a masterpiece of gothic decay. Spires clawed at the perpetually overcast sky like skeletal fingers, and stone gargoyles, their faces eroded by centuries of acid rain and neglect, seemed to track our progress with hollow eyes. Everything was coated in a fine layer of grey dust that might have been ash, or time, or powdered despair.

  “Anyone else feel like we’re in the opening scene of a horror movie?” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. “The one where the group of ridiculously unprepared teenagers decides to explore the haunted asylum?”

  “Dude, we’re the NPCs who die first to show how tough the monster is,” Nolan wheezed without turning around. “I’m the fat comic relief who trips over his own feet.”

  “And I suppose that makes me the ‘final girl’?” I shot back.Kaelen glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “I do not understand. Are we not the protagonists of our own tale?”

  “There’s the main-character energy.” Nolan smiled, poking at the bewildered knight.

  “But is he? Maybe he’s the jock that thinks he’s the main, but still dies before act two.”Bartholomew sighed, a sound like sandpaper on silk.

  “A futile metaphysical debate. Kindly focus one’s attention on the path before us.”As if on cue, Nolan stopped short, swiveling his head like a paranoid owl in a wind tunnel.

  “Did you guys hear that?”I strained my ears.

  “Hear what? The sound of my sanity slowly leaking out?”

  “No, for real.” His face, usually a pasty shade of off-white, had gone a full ghostly pallor. “It sounded like… like a little kid laughing.”

  Kaelen’s hand went to the silver pommel of his longsword. He hadn’t drawn it, but the readiness was there, a coiled spring of deadly intent.

  “I heard nothing, Master Nolan. But I have learned to trust the instincts of those unaccustomed to such places. Their senses are often sharper.”

  It was the most diplomatic way of calling us tenderfoots I’d ever heard.

  We stood frozen for a long moment. The grey dust swirled around our ankles in the purple of pre-dawn. The wind moaned through the empty windows of a collapsed haberdashery. And then I heard it, too. A faint, ethereal giggle. It didn’t seem to come from any particular direction, but rather from inside my own head, a phantom memory of playground joy twisted into something dreadful.

  “Anyone else getting haunted Chernobyl vibes?” I said softly. Images from a documentary about the nuclear wasteland flashed through my head. Particularly, the abandoned school.

  Bartholomew’s claws dug into the leather pauldron on my shoulder.

  “Echoes,” he hissed, his fur standing on end so that he resembled a fluffy, feline thundercloud. “Residual psychic imprints of extreme emotional events. They are not truly sentient, but the Shadow has given them a… predatory appetite.”

  As he spoke, the air began to shimmer. In the middle of the street, translucent figures started to coalesce from the gloom. They had the vague shapes of people—a tall man, a woman clutching her robes, a small child—but their features were blurred, their forms indistinct like watercolor paintings left out in the rain. They weren’t ghosts in the traditional sense; they were misery given form.

  A wave of cold washed over us, a soul-deep frost of pure, unadulterated despair. A system notification flickered into my vision.

  [You are afflicted with Aura of Sorrow] [Willpower temporarily decreased by -5][All actions have a 10% chance to fail]

  My eyes widened.

  “Oh, hell no,” I breathed. The feeling was awful, like every bad memory I’d ever had—failing my driver’s test, bombing a presentation, that time I’d accidentally called my ninth-grade teacher ‘Mom’—was bubbling to the surface. “Nolan, are you seeing this too?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Kaelen was the first to act. With a cry of “For the Light!”, the gryphon sigil on his sword’s hilt flared with a soft, silver luminescence. He swept the blade in a wide arc, and the holy light washed over the nearest Echo. The spectral man shrieked, a sound like tearing fabric, and dissolved slightly, but reformed an instant later.

  “They are not of the corporeal plane, Ser Knight!” Bartholomew yowled. “Your steel is but a minor irritant!”Nolan was fumbling inside his pack, his hands shaking.

  “I-I have a scroll. Banishment. It was super expensive.” He pulled out a roll of parchment covered in glowing runes that looked suspiciously like C++.

  One of the Echoes, the woman, drifted towards him, its sorrowful energy intensifying. Nolan’s face crumpled.

  “My rare Charizard card… my mom threw it out…” he whimpered, his eyes glazing over.

  “Nolan, snap out of it!” I yelled, but the wave of despair was hitting me too. I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to sit down and cry about the series finale of my favorite show. This was their attack: not claws or teeth, but weaponized depression.

  And that just pissed me off.

  My joke from earlier echoed in my mind. Make a ghost cry by telling it its shroud makes it look fat. It was stupid. It was absurd. It was so me.

  “Alright, you sad sacks of see-through bullcrap,” I snarled, planting my feet. I focused on the Echo of the woman drifting towards Nolan. The despair she projected was thick, a miasma of lost love and shattered dreams. I met it head-on, not with light or magic, but with the one weapon I’d spent my entire life sharpening: my mouth. “Hey! Sheet-for-brains!” I shouted. The Echo paused, its blank face turning towards me. “Is that your shroud, or are you wearing a wedding dress you bought from a dollar store dumpster? Because honey, that ectoplasmic white is not your color. It makes your aura look bloated.”

  A flicker of something new appeared in my vision.

  [Skills Activated][Verbal Barrage] [All spoken words possess a 10% chance to deal

  moderate psychic damage to those with weak constitutions][Wit’s Sharpness] [Increases your intelligence and critical thinking by 20%. May

  also cause you to accidentally offend people.]

  The female Echo wavered, a discordant note entering its mournful hum. It actually recoiled.

  Holy crap. It worked.

  Emboldened, I turned on the tall male figure that had been vexing Kaelen.

  “And you! You look like you just remembered you left the spectral oven on! Straighten your non-existent spine! Your posture is so bad you’re making the gargoyles cringe!”

  The male Echo flickered violently, its form destabilizing as it let out a hiss of what sounded suspiciously like indignation. The oppressive sorrow in the air lessened significantly.

  Nolan, freed from the worst of the psychic assault, blinked and looked down at the scroll in his hand.

  “Oh, right!” He bellowed a series of guttural, nerdy-sounding syllables from the parchment. A brilliant flash of arcane energy erupted from the scroll and slammed into the child Echo, which vanished with a final, surprised-sounding giggle.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  One down. Two to go.

  The remaining Echoes turned their full, sorrowful attention on me. It was like being hit by a tidal wave of misery. But now, anger was my life raft.

  “Oh, you want to dance?” I squared up, grinning like a predator. “Let’s dance.” I pointed at the woman. “I’ve seen better-defined figures in a Rorschach test! You’re so transparent, I can see your crippling insecurities from here!” Then to the man. “And you! I bet you were the kind of guy who thought chainmail was a fashion statement outside of the battlefield! You have all the presence of a wet fart in a hurricane!”

  They shrieked, not in sorrow, but in what I could only describe as pure psychic rage. Their forms began to fray at the edges, their sorrowful aura replaced by a chaotic energy. They were losing cohesion.

  Kaelen, seeing his chance, raised his glowing sword again.

  “Your despair is a lie of the Shadow! Find your peace in the Light!” He plunged his sword not at them, but into the cobblestones at his feet. A shockwave of pure, white light erupted outwards, and when it hit the destabilized Echoes, they shattered like glass, dissolving into motes of fading silver dust.

  The silence that returned was clean, empty. The oppressive psychic weight was gone.

  [You killed Spectral Echo Lvl 15] [x5]

  [Rewards]

  [7,500XP]

  [Spectral Dust] [x3]

  Nolan stared at me, his mouth agape.

  “You… you literally bullied a ghost back to death.”

  “Technically, I psychologically deconstructed their residual imprints until they were vulnerable to a holy attack,” I corrected, dusting off my hands. A grin spread across my face. “The joke is on them anyway. I’m a millennial, we practically invented depression.”Kaelen approached, sheathing his sword. He looked at me with that familiar expression of exasperation and grudging respect, but this time, the respect was winning.

  “Lady Paige,” he said, his voice grave. “That was the most unorthodox method of exorcism I have ever witnessed.”

  “Don’t forget that it worked on you once, too.” I poked a finger into his breastplate.

  “Wait, what?” Nolan sputtered. I had forgotten that he didn’t know about our first encounter.

  “That’s a story for later.” I shot over my shoulder as I continued walking toward the Spire.

  “No, it most definitely is not.” Kaelen countered.

  “Not your best moment with the lady, huh?” Nolan threw an arm around Kaelen’s shoulders, which the knight immediately shrugged off. “It’s cool. I get it. Believe it or not, I struggle in that department on occasion, too.”

  “Oh, I believe it.” Kaelen sheathed his sword and set off at a pace that effectively ended the conversation.

  Ahead of us, through the thinning gloom, a single, impossibly tall structure rose from the city’s corpse. It was made of a pale, pearlescent stone that seemed to drink the meager light from the sky, a silent beacon in a sea of decay. The Spire of Oracles.

  “There is little need to concern yourself with Ser Kaelen’s past endeavors,” Bartholomew piped up from my shoulder, his tail flicking dismissively. “He’s rather particular, and frankly, his tastes have always been unorthodox.”Kaelen shot Bartholomew a glare that could curdle milk.

  “Your commentary is, as always, uncalled for, Warden.”

  “At least my commentary is relevant,” Bartholomew retorted, preening. “Unlike certain knights who find themselves flustered by a sharp wit and a well-placed… insult.”I snorted, a laugh bubbling up.

  “See, Nolan? Even the cat knows. Kaelen and I have a history.”Nolan’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, this I have to hear. Was it one of those forbidden love type things? Noble knight, commoner girl?”

  “Something like that,” I said, winking. “I was verbally abusing a Grumble-Snout when he came bursting out of the woods, sword drawn, insisting that he was there to ‘protect the innocent’ and shit.”

  “Seems like what a knight would do.” Nolan nodded thoughtfully.

  “Thank you.” Kaelen nodded to Nolan, “I was just trying to help.”

  “I then proceeded to insult his intelligence and deal psychic damage.”

  “Oh shit!” Nolan laughed.Kaelen’s jaw tightened.

  “Enough. We are here to face the Shadow Lord, not to relive my mortifying past.”

  “Right you are, my grim knight,” I conceded, though the smirk wouldn’t leave my face. “In my defense, it was my first day, and I didn’t know how all this worked.”

  “You knew enough,” Kaelen muttered and pressed past me on the path.

  The Spire loomed closer, its pearlescent surface reflecting the bruised twilight sky. The air grew colder, the silence heavier. This was it. The heart of the darkness.

  The path to the Spire was a series of crumbling terraces, each level a testament to the city’s former glory, now choked with shadows and the lingering stench of despair. We moved cautiously, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive quiet. Skittering sounds from the periphery—some kind of shadow creatures, no doubt—made us jumpy. They were like rats in the dark, quick and unnerving, but thankfully, they seemed to avoid our direct path.

  “So, assuming we, you know, don’t get mauled by whatever lives here,” Nolan began, his voice a little shaky, “what happens when we get to this… portal thingy?”

  “The Oracle’s Gate,” Kaelen corrected, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “It’s a nexus point. A gateway between worlds. The Shadow Lord cannot manifest in Eldoria, he is too weak. We are here to enter the Shadow Realm and take him head on.”

  “Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I said, a surge of longing for my own bed, my own lukewarm coffee, and my own internet connection washing over me. “Assuming, of course, I don’t get eaten by a spectral spider or something equally unpleasant, the gate can, theoretically, take us home too.”

  Nolan gulped. “Right. The portal. So, like, do we just… walk through it? Is there a password?”

  “The Oracle’s Gate responds to intent,” Bartholomew explained, adjusting his position on my shoulder. “And sometimes, to a specific arcane key. But more importantly, the Lord of Shadows intends to use it to draw more power from… elsewhere.”

  “And if he succeeds, Eldoria is truly damned,” Kaelen finished, his gaze fixed on the Spire.Nolan cleared his throat.

  “Okay, so, the main thing is, I need to get back to my… my level. Bartholomew mentioned something about being ‘level 16’ to get through the portal. Is that still a thing?”

  I paused briefly, mid-stride. Why hadn’t I thought of that? If I had to be level sixteen to get through, wouldn’t he as well? I glanced at Nolan. He was a programmer, a self-proclaimed nerd, but this whole fantasy world was clearly taking its toll. He was visibly nervous, and frankly, a little out of his depth.

  “The level requirement is for those who are being sent through the gate, typically,” Bartholomew said, his voice calm. “Those who are attempting to return to their native plane after being pulled here, as is your case, and Lady Paige, have a slightly different… protocol. However, the gate is tied to the ambient magical energies of Eldoria. If the Shadow Lord succeeds in his ritual, the energies could become unstable, making passage… precarious for all.”

  “Precarious how?” Nolan squeaked.

  “Unpredictable,” Bartholomew said simply. “One might find themselves in a dimension of sentient cheese, or perhaps a realm populated solely by overly aggressive squirrels. It’s best not to experiment.”

  Nolan’s already pale face turned even whiter.

  “Sentient cheese? Aggressive squirrels? Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He started to hyperventilate.

  “Nolan, breathe,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “We’ll figure this out. Even if the gate’s wonky, we’ll find a way.”

  “But what if I’m not level sixteen?” he pleaded, his eyes darting between Kaelen and me. “What if I just… disappear? Or worse, end up in a place where everyone speaks fluent Klingon and I’m the only one who doesn’t understand? I knew I should have studied harder…”Bartholomew let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “Honestly, the dramatics. If it comes to it, and you find yourself lacking the requisite spiritual fortitude, I shall simply… assist you. Consider it a complimentary service for my esteemed companions.”Nolan blinked. “Assist me? How?”Bartholomew stretched languidly.

  “Let’s just say my abilities extend beyond mere feline elegance. If you are not sufficiently… aligned with the ethereal currents, I will provide the necessary boost. Think of me as a very, very advanced firewall. Or perhaps a particularly potent anti-virus program. I can ensure your prompt and safe passage.”Nolan stared at the cat, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

  “You… you can do that? You can just hack into the portal system?”

  “I can do many things, small human,” Bartholomew purred. “Things you cannot even begin to comprehend. For now, however, focus on reaching the Spire. The true challenge lies ahead.”

  The Spire’s base was shrouded behind a towering ring wall. The path led to a gaping maw of an entrance, carved from the same pale stone, its shadow swallowing us as we stepped inside. The air within was heavy, charged with an ancient, crackling energy. The darkness here was different, not just the absence of light, but a tangible, suffocating presence that pressed in, thick and cloying. Something felt… wrong. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to run, to question every life choice that had led me from a perfectly good latte to this nightmare fuel of a building, but the thought of Nolan getting stuck in that squirrel-infested dimension spurred me forward. This was more than just getting home; it was about keeping my friends safe. Even the sweaty, stressed-out ones.