The Immortal’s Vow

The Watcher in the Ruins

An unbearable iciness stood heavy in the atmosphere around the group who were petrified in front of the monumental figure of Zarekth, shrouded in all directions. The sculpture remained dilapidated but there was a strong feeling, a force, which made the very ground and the rocks they stood and walked in vibrate with the ancient eldritch energy that had long been erased from time.

Lyra found it rather hard to ignore how it was working its way towards her epicenter, an irksome oscillation that brought all kinds of creeps to the back of her neck.

Harrison shone his flashlight on the inscription carved into the pedestal of the statue. He wore a frown as if concentrating hard on something. His fingers ran over the other symbols as if trying to make sense of the hundreds of years that lay in the past. The first mechanism in his breath spoke about hope inside which a strange excitement girth had wrapped around it. Generally, it looked like that of a person who became an area in which people saw a place, where images were kept, and the people stored them in every historian’s fantasy.

“This is it,” he said in a near whisper. It was directed more to himself than to the others.

There was amazement in his voice. A note of wonder crept into his tone. “This is Zarekth, the god who was sealed away.”

Lyra fought the urge to roll her eyes. Not because she didn’t believe him—there was something undeniably eerie about the place, a heaviness that made it impossible to dismiss the statue as mere stone—but because Harrison always got this way around ancient relics. His passion for history was infectious, but at times like this, it bordered on obsession.

Feigning exaggerated wonder, she leaned in closer.

“So, what’s the story? Zarekth just pissed off the wrong gods and ended up as a lawn ornament?”

Harrison’s eyes lit up, eager to share his knowledge.

“Kind of. Zarekth was the god of chaos and order, which made him unpredictable. Even the other gods didn’t know which side of him would dominate—whether he’d bring balance or destruction. He was powerful. Too powerful. The gods feared him because they couldn’t control him, so they sealed him away, locking him in a prison that no one could find.”

Ivy, who had been unusually quiet, let out a laugh that sounded forced. “Sounds like someone I know.”

She shot a glance at Lyra, her smile teasing.

Lyra smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Harrison, oblivious to their banter, pressed on.

“He’s been trapped for thousands of years. No one even remembers where, exactly, but the legends say that his prison was hidden somewhere so remote, so dangerous, that even gods avoided it.”

Lyra looked up at the statue, studying Zarekth’s face. The features were worn, the details lost to time, but the intensity of the expression remained—eyes cold and calculating, sword raised as if ready to strike down anyone foolish enough to challenge him. A chill crept over her. The thought of a god like Zarekth being trapped, buried away in some forgotten corner of the world, made her stomach twist with unease.

“Seems like a rough deal,” Lyra muttered, trying to dispel the tension.

“Guy gets locked up for being too powerful, and now we’re here gawking at his statue. If I were Zarekth, I’d be pretty pissed.”

Ivy chuckled, elbowing her.

“And that’s why you’ll make a terrible god.”

Rhett, who had been leaning against a nearby wall with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, finally spoke up.

“Fascinating history lesson and all, but can we maybe move this along? Or anyone got a snack? I’m starving.”

Before Harrison could respond, Ivy suddenly stiffened, her playful smile fading.

“Wait—did you hear that?”

They all froze, their attention snapping to the shadows beyond the statue. The wind rose again and stirred the dry leaves spread on the ground, but there was something more.

A low hiss, nearly inaudible, escaped the breeze yet Lyra’s edginess identified it well enough.

"What was that?"

Lyra murmured, glancing fast at the source of the sound, her heartbeat loud in her own ears.

Ivy stared all around like a frightened animal.

“It’s nothing. Just windy.”

“No.”

Harrison stated, but with struggle. “That wasn’t wind.”

A feeling of impending doom came over the group as the whisper came louder, enveloped them and saturated their senses. Lyra’s grip on the torch she had held firm despite the attempted mental opposition from herself, knowing well it was purely psychological, had her mind’s eye being drawn to the statue.

A gaze seemed to be penetrating hers from Zarekth’s stony eyes, as if he was demanding the very recess of her mind.

“I am not okay with this,” Rhett whispered, retreating back. “Can we leave now?”

Ivy nodded, her bravado fading. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

But Harrison remained glued to the spot, his gaze fixed on the statue’s inscription. “Wait… there’s something more here.”

He crouched down, his fingers tracing the ancient carvings. “This isn’t just a statue. It’s… it’s like it’s holding something back.”

Lyra’s stomach twisted with unease. “Holding what back?”

Harrison didn’t answer immediately, his focus still on the inscriptions. When he finally spoke, he only whispered.

“Zarekth wasn’t just sealed away because the gods were afraid of him. There was something else… something worse.”

Lyra took a step back, the cold dread in her chest growing stronger. Every instinct screamed at her to leave, to get out before something went terribly wrong.

“We need to go. Now.”

For once, Rhett didn’t argue. He was already half-turned, ready to bolt, but Ivy and Harrison hesitated, torn between curiosity and self-preservation. Lyra could see the battle playing out on Harrison’s face, his desire to uncover the truth warring with the growing fear that they had already gone too far.

“We can’t leave now,” Harrison insisted, though his voice wavered. “We’re so close.”

Lyra shook her head, taking another step back.

“Close to what? Getting ourselves killed?”

Before anyone could give a reply, a loud crack of thunder took up the air, the noise so sharp and sudden that all of them jumped. The storm clouds which had been brewing above at last emptied themselves, casting down a rain that beat relentlessly upon the ruins.

“We must go,” Lyra said with an edge to her voice.

Harrison paused for a breath longer, and without much of a choice, shook his head.

“Yeah… yeah, let’s go.”

They turned to leave.

It was as if the air around them contorted, a growl emanating from below as if the earth was alive. For Lyra, her heart began to gallop when she turned to inspect the statue, its solid gaze intact although it seemed to be watching them, the wind screeching in her ears. And for the briefest moment, she swore she saw the statue move.

They hurried through the ruins, the weight of Zarekth’s presence pressing down on them, the ominous rumble of thunder echoing behind them like a warning.