Anaya couldn’t shake the feeling that every step she took in Blackridge, every discovery she
made at the excavation site, was part of a much larger and far more sinister puzzle. Her mind
churned over symbols she had been finding etched into ancient stone and the chilling whispers
she heard last night.
There was no longer any doubt—something was amiss here, and it was buried deep within the
earth and the old stories of this town.
She went back to the town center and visited the local library. It was a small, gloomy place with
wooden bookshelves that creaked with the weight of ancient books and records.
The librarian, Nathaniel Carter, gave her a shrewd glance when she said she had something to discuss about Dr. Mehra and the ancient temple.
“You’re peering into the forsaken realm, aren’t you?” he questioned, his tone low and
measured as if waiting for her arrival.
Anaya hesitated, shifted on her feet, and said, “I am trying to understand what happened to Dr.
Mehra. His journal speaks of cryptic symbols and relics associated with an ancient temple. What
would you say is the meaning behind this ‘forsaken realm’?”
Nathaniel adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his chair, looking at her with cautious
skepticism. “That’s not a topic most people talk about openly.”.
“Especially in Blackridge.” His eyes held hers for a moment before he leaned forward again.
“But I can help you. Meet me at my home tonight. There are things in these woods, Detective.
Things that should never be disturbed.” His words sent a fresh wave of unease through her, but
she nodded. “All right. I’ll come by later.”
By the time the evening fell, darkness had gathered, and the mist clinging to the woods seemed
more profound with dusk turning into darkness.
Anaya parked outside a modest two-story home on the outskirts of the town and knocked on
the door. The air was colder now, and her breath came in sharp puffs as she waited.
The door creaked open to reveal a thin, pale figure with silvery hair and sharp, piercing eyes.
Nathaniel Carter looked exactly like the historian might: curious, intelligent, and guarded.
“Detective Kapoor,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let her in. “Please, do come in; it’s pretty
cold out here.”
Inside, the air inside his house had grown dim: the scent was one of the stale books and woody
smoke; the fireplace smoked low enough, no larger than the diameter across one or two logs.
His living room was made a patchwork of olden maps, ancient tomes bound in black cover
about local legendry and things forgotten long. Dust and a sort of undertone of yellowing
parchment touched at every surface with the passing breath of antiques.
Anaya sank into a leather armchair as Nathaniel set down two steaming mugs of tea. The
warmth felt good against her hands. She took a sip, the bitterness of the tea grounding her as
the fire crackled and the shadows shifted around her.
“So,” Nathaniel began, sitting in the chair across from her, “you’re here because of Dr. Mehra
and the symbols. You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”
She hesitated, grasping the mug with white-knuckle ferocity. “Yes. In the dig site. They are very
old, but they feel. alive—like they hold some kind of weight, some kind of meaning I can’t quite
grasp.”.
Nathaniel furrowed his brow. He spoke in a low voice. “The symbols you’re seeing are older
than this town. They are pieces of ancient civilizations, civilizations that worshipped deities, but
not the kinds we think of as gods. These were other things. Dark things.”
Anaya looked at him, her heart racing. “What do you mean?”
Nathaniel leaned back, taking his time to get his breath, while the glint of his eyes was alive
under the shine of the fireplace, looking over her.
Then his words arrived slowly, heavily: “Forsaken Realm. It’s a legend but is real; a gateway
between two dimensions—and cursed, or at least between two dimensions—one darkness, all
pain, and tears; sealed across millennia by ages-long civilizations fearful of its very power.”
Anaya stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. “A gateway? Like a portal?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Yes. A gateway. It is believed that this gate was sealed long ago with ancient rituals, and the
key to unlocking it was buried. Over time, however, these keys were lost to history. Dr. Mehra,
as you’ve likely gathered, found one. Or at least, he found part of it.” Anaya set her mug down,
her mind racing.
“Dr. Mehra’s journal mentions a relic, a small obsidian statue. What is that relic? Is it connected
to this forsaken realm?” Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes,” he said, his voice tight.
Before she could answer, Nathaniel’s voice came again. “I have one final thing to show you,
Detective. Follow me.”
He stood, and Anaya followed as he led her to a small study on the second floor. Ancient tomes
and weathered maps lined the walls. A dusty, leather-bound book lay in the middle of the table.
Nathaniel picked it up and placed it before her. This is an ancient account of the forsaken realm,
he said, his voice steady. “Read carefully. Perhaps it might bring a ray of light upon what you’re
dealing with.”
Anaya snatched the book, full of a mixture of trepidation and resolve.
She was walking into the dark unknown, but the answers were hidden in the ancient pages that
she now stood in front of.
She breathed deeply and read the book straight through, beginning at where she had started
that time before.
This time it was not nearly as painful.