The Echoes of Aravan
May 11, 2025
The sun had barely begun to set over the jagged peaks of the Aravan Mountains when Joran felt it—a low hum in the air, as though the earth itself was trembling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he stopped in his tracks, scanning the darkening horizon.
“Did you hear that?” Joran asked, his voice tight with unease.
Ava, his companion, didn’t look up from the map she was studying. She was used to Joran’s sudden bursts of anxiety. “It’s probably just the wind,” she said absently. “The Aravan winds are strange. They’ve been known to carry odd noises.”
Joran didn’t trust the wind. In the Aravan Mountains, there were rumors of ancient forces still lurking, old gods or spirits bound to the land long before any of them arrived. He’d heard the stories since he was a child—stories about a hidden valley, a valley that no one could find twice, where the Echoes of Aravan still whispered. The Echoes were said to be the voices of an ancient civilization, a civilization that vanished without a trace but left behind its most powerful artifact: the Heart of Aravan.
He adjusted the straps on his backpack and nodded toward the narrow pass ahead. “Let’s keep moving. We’re close. I can feel it.”
Ava finally looked up from the map, her brows furrowed in concern. “Are you sure about this, Joran? The Heart of Aravan is just a myth, and even if it’s real—”
“It’s not a myth,” he cut her off. His eyes were bright with the excitement that always came before a great discovery. “It’s real. We’ve come this far, and we’re not turning back.”
Ava hesitated, glancing at the dense forest that stretched before them. She could feel the weight of the ancient air around them too—something was off. Still, she’d learned long ago to trust Joran’s instincts. He had an uncanny ability to find what others couldn’t.
“Fine. But if you hear anything strange again, I want you to tell me immediately,” she said firmly.
Joran smirked but nodded. “Deal.”
The path grew steeper as they made their way up the mountain. The forest thinned, replaced by jagged rocks and the occasional flicker of light between the clouds. Ava kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as if she could feel something watching them. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being followed—something was out there, just beyond the edges of her vision. The deeper they ventured, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, as though the mountain itself was alive, watching, waiting.
Finally, they reached a clearing, and Joran’s heart skipped a beat. Before them stood an enormous stone archway, its surface covered in intricate carvings of long-forgotten symbols. The arch led to a narrow passageway, its entrance dark and foreboding. But beyond it, faint light flickered, and the air hummed with an unmistakable energy.
“This is it,” Joran breathed. He stepped forward, his hands reaching out to touch the stones. They were cold to the touch, yet the hum from within them seemed to vibrate through his very bones. “The Heart of Aravan is inside. I can feel it.”
Ava didn’t share his enthusiasm. She stepped cautiously forward, her hand on her sword. “Let’s just be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
Joran ignored her caution, stepping through the archway and into the narrow tunnel beyond. The air grew warmer, and the faint light ahead grew brighter. It was as if the mountain itself was alive, guiding them forward. The tunnel twisted and turned, its walls lined with symbols that seemed to shift with their movement, as though they were watching them.
“I don’t like this,” Ava muttered under her breath, but Joran pressed on, driven by the pull of the unknown.
At the end of the tunnel, they reached a massive chamber, the size of a cathedral. In the center stood a pedestal, atop which rested a glowing crystal—a brilliant, sapphire-blue stone that pulsed with a rhythmic light, just like a heartbeat.
“The Heart of Aravan,” Joran whispered, his voice reverent.
Ava’s hand went to her sword, her instincts screaming that something was wrong. “Joran, wait. Something feels—”
Before she could finish her sentence, the ground beneath them trembled, and a deafening roar filled the chamber. The air turned heavy, thick with an ancient energy that pressed down on them like an invisible weight.
“Joran, get away from it!” Ava shouted, her voice panicked.
But it was too late.
Joran’s hand reached for the Heart of Aravan, and the moment his fingers brushed the crystal’s surface, the chamber erupted with light. A pulse of energy shot through him, overwhelming his senses. He cried out in pain as the energy surged through his veins, burning him from the inside out. The world around him blurred, and for a moment, he felt like he was falling—falling into nothingness.
And then, a voice.
You have come to claim what was never meant to be yours.
Joran’s vision cleared, and he found himself standing in the middle of the chamber, surrounded by shadows. The light from the Heart of Aravan flickered and died, and a dark figure emerged from the shadows. It was tall, cloaked in robes of shifting darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood.
“I… I don’t understand,” Joran gasped, his body still trembling with the residual energy. “Who are you?”
The figure raised a skeletal hand. “I am the Guardian of the Heart. For millennia, I have kept it safe, preventing the world from succumbing to the power that lies within.”
Ava rushed forward, her sword drawn. “We didn’t mean any harm. We only—”
“You sought to claim the Heart of Aravan for your own,” the Guardian said, its voice cold and unfeeling. “But there is a price for such greed.”
Ava raised her sword, ready to defend Joran, but the Guardian’s hand waved dismissively. “Do not think your weapons will save you. The Heart cannot be taken by force. It chooses who it will reveal itself to. And you, Joran, are not the one.”
Joran staggered back, confusion in his eyes. “Then why… why did it call to me?”
The Guardian’s hood tilted, as though it were considering him. “The Heart of Aravan does not choose lightly. It chooses those who seek power without understanding its cost. It whispers to those who would use it recklessly. But that power cannot be controlled.”
Joran took a deep breath, his hand trembling as he stepped back from the pedestal. “I didn’t come for power,” he said quietly. “I came to save my people.”
The Guardian’s expression softened, though it was still impossible to read beneath the hood. “Your intentions may be noble, but the Heart does not bend to mortal wills. Leave now, before its curse consumes you.”
Ava’s eyes met Joran’s. He nodded to her, the weight of his discovery finally sinking in. The Heart of Aravan wasn’t something they could take—it was something they had to leave behind.
They turned and fled the chamber, the echoes of the Guardian’s voice following them.
Outside, the mountain was quiet again, the fog still rolling in from the sea. The ground had settled, and the hum in the air had disappeared.
Joran looked back at the entrance to the mountain one last time, his heart heavy with the realization that some mysteries were never meant to be solved.
“Do you think we’ll ever know what the Heart truly was?” Ava asked, her voice soft.
Joran shook his head. “Some things are better left unanswered.”
As they turned to leave, the faintest whisper of the Guardian’s voice echoed through the wind, a reminder that the past never truly let go.