The Gate of Forgotten Gods

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Deep within the heart of the Ashen Wastes, there lies a ruined city—one that does not exist on any map, nor in any history book. It is said that within its shattered temples stands an ancient gate, sealed for eons, inscribed with the names of forgotten gods. No one remembers their names, nor their power. But when the gate trembles once more, and a lost traveler stumbles upon its threshold, the echoes of the past awaken. Merlin, the eternal wanderer, tells the tale of the Gate of Forgotten Gods—and what happens when it is finally opened.

The Tale Begins…

Ah, traveler, you return for another tale. Good, for this one has long waited to be told. It is a story of gods and men, of power lost to time, and of a door that should have never been built.

Sit close, for I will tell you of the Gate of Forgotten Gods.

The Ashen Wastes

There is a land where the sun hangs eternally in a sky smeared with dying embers, a land where the wind howls with voices long silenced. The Ashen Wastes, they call it, a place so barren that even the bravest souls refuse to venture near. No birds sing, no rivers flow—only dust and the skeletons of a kingdom swallowed by time.

I have walked those desolate paths, my staff carving symbols in the cracked earth. And once, long ago, I found myself standing before the ruins of a city that should not have been.

Its towers leaned like drunken ghosts, its streets paved with shattered stones bearing inscriptions in a tongue older than any I had known. But at its heart, rising above all else, stood the gate.

A towering construct of obsidian and gold, sealed with chains thicker than a man’s arm. The symbols carved into its surface pulsed with a dull, aching light, as though they remembered a time when they had meant something more.

And before that gate knelt a man.

The Lost Traveler

He was young, by mortal standards, dressed in the garb of an explorer. Dust and time clung to his tattered cloak, his hands pressed firmly against the stone as though willing it to speak. His breathing was shallow, his eyes wide with something between terror and awe.

I knew him before he even spoke his name. Aurek Fenrow. A seeker, a scholar, a man who did not fear the past—though he should have.

He turned at my approach, eyes flickering with recognition. “You,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I know you.”

I offered him a small smile. “Many do.”

He hesitated, glancing back at the gate. “You’re the one they call Merlin, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “And you are the one foolish enough to try and open what should remain closed.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve spent years searching for this place. No records, no mention of it in any known texts. Only whispers, passed from dying tongues. Do you know what this is?”

I looked past him, to the gate itself. “Yes,” I said simply. “And that is why you should turn back.”

He laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Turn back? After everything I’ve endured to find this place? No, old man. I will see this through.”

And that was when the ground trembled.

The Gate Stirs

The air grew thick, as if the very world held its breath. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the ruins, shaking dust from the stone. Aurek staggered, gripping the edge of a broken column.

The symbols on the gate burned now, their once-faint glow intensifying into a blinding brilliance. The chains rattled, straining against some unseen force.

And then, a voice.

A voice not meant for mortal ears.

“WHO REMEMBERS?”

The words did not come from the gate, nor the ruins. They came from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating in the bones, echoing in the soul. A voice as vast as time itself.

Aurek’s breath hitched. He turned to me, wild-eyed. “Did you hear that?”

I did. And it was a voice I had not heard in thousands of years.

The Forgotten Gods were stirring.

A Choice to Be Made

Aurek’s hands trembled. “This is it. This is proof. The gods that time erased—they’re real.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. “Yes,” I said. “And now, you must decide. Will you be the one who wakes them?”

He hesitated.

And I saw it in his eyes—the hunger for knowledge, the thirst for the unknown. He was a scholar, a seeker. He wanted to know.

But knowledge has a cost.

And some gods were forgotten for a reason.

The voice came again, louder this time.

“WHO CALLS US FROM THE VOID?”

A deep crack snaked across the surface of the gate, glowing with golden fire. The chains groaned, splitting apart link by link. The world seemed to tilt, reality itself warping as an ancient power pressed against the veil of existence.

Aurek turned to me, desperation in his gaze. “What happens if it opens?”

I did not answer. I only knew one truth.

The world as we knew it would change forever.

The Chains Unravel

Aurek’s breath came in ragged gasps. The chains shattered, bursting into fragments of molten metal that sizzled against the ruined stone floor. A gust of wind, cold as the void, rushed from the crack in the gate, carrying whispers that no living tongue should utter.

And yet, Aurek took a step closer.

“This is it,” he murmured, eyes reflecting the golden fire that bled from the gate. “The knowledge of the first gods… I can feel it.”

I tightened my grip on my staff. “Feel it? Or hear it?”

Aurek flinched. His fingers twitched.

Then, without warning, he screamed.

He clutched his head, his body trembling as unseen voices poured into his mind, filling the empty spaces of his consciousness with truths not meant for mortals. His knees hit the stone with a sickening crack, but he did not notice.

I stepped forward, voice firm. “Let go, Aurek! Shut them out!”

He groaned, his face contorted in agony. “I… I can’t—”

The gate shuddered again. The crack widened.

And then, out of the growing chasm of light, something stepped forward.

The First God Walks Again

The air bent around the figure as it emerged from the gate. It was neither man nor beast, neither light nor shadow. It shifted—its form ever-changing, flickering between shapes that could not be defined.

A presence, immense and suffocating.

A being that had once ruled before time itself had meaning.

The whispers fell silent.

Aurek, pale and trembling, looked up.

The entity tilted its head—or what passed for its head. Its shape rippled, its edges fraying like ink dissolving in water. And then, in a voice that sent tremors through reality itself, it spoke:

“You remember.”

Aurek swallowed hard. “Y-you were… sealed away.”

The being’s form shifted, a thousand eyes opening and closing along its surface.

“Sealed?” it repeated, as if the concept were foreign. It took a step forward, and the very fabric of existence shook.

I could feel it—the world unraveling.

This being was not meant to walk in this reality. Not anymore.

Aurek’s lips parted. He was transfixed, drawn to the presence like a moth to flame. I could see it in his eyes—the way the god’s voice wrapped around his thoughts, unraveling his sense of self, bending his will like a brittle reed.

I had to act.

The Price of Awakening

I raised my staff. “You were forgotten for a reason.”

The god’s many eyes shifted toward me. Recognition. Amusement. Indifference.

“You. The wandering one. The false immortal.”

I did not flinch. “You are out of time.”

The god’s shape wavered, shifting through past, present, and things that should not be. “Time is a prison. I am beyond it.”

Aurek’s fingers twitched at his side. The gate was still open.

If more of them stepped through…

I met the god’s gaze—or rather, the many, many shifting points of its perception. “Then why do you linger here?”

For the first time, the god hesitated.

A silence stretched between us. It was waiting. Testing. Calculating.

And then, in an instant, it reached for Aurek.

The Struggle for a Mortal Soul

A tendril of shifting light wrapped around Aurek’s wrist, pulling him up onto his feet.

He did not resist.

His eyes—once sharp, filled with curiosity—were now distant, empty. The being was rewriting him, molding his essence into something else.

Something it could use.

I slammed my staff against the ground. A pulse of raw magic surged outward, shattering the connection. Aurek collapsed to the floor, gasping.

The god’s shifting form quivered, displeased.

“You delay the inevitable.”

I pointed toward the gate. “You were forgotten. You should remain so.”

The god exhaled—a soundless breath that sent cracks through the very air. “We will not be forgotten again.”

The ground shook violently. The sky above split, revealing glimpses of things no mortal should see. The edges of reality curled inward, pulled toward the growing chasm of the gate.

I turned to Aurek, voice urgent. “We must seal it! Now!”

His breath was ragged, his body weak, but his mind was still his own.

He nodded, and together, we moved to close the gate.

The Final Choice

The inscriptions on the gate were ancient, but I could still read them. They spoke of binding and sacrifice, of how the gate could only be sealed by offering something of equal weight.

Something precious.

Something irreplaceable.

Aurek read the inscriptions as well. His hands clenched into fists.

“I’ll do it,” he said suddenly.

I turned sharply. “You don’t even know the cost.”

He laughed, bitter and exhausted. “I’ve spent my life chasing answers. Now I know them. And if I don’t do this, the world burns.”

The god watched, its shifting form still writhing, testing the limits of its presence in this world. It was waiting. It knew what was about to happen.

Aurek pressed a hand to the gate. The symbols glowed, responding to his touch.

And then he spoke the final word.

A tremor ran through the ruins. The chasm in the gate began to close, golden fire rushing to stitch the reality shut.

The god roared—not in rage, but in understanding.

A soul for a gate. A life for a prison.

Aurek disappeared in a burst of light.

The gate slammed shut.

The ruins fell silent.

And I, Merlin, stood alone once more.

The Gate Rests Once More

The Ashen Wastes remain, their dust still whispering with the echoes of what once was. The gate stands sealed, the gods locked away once more.

But Aurek’s name is not forgotten.

Not by me.

Not by the wind that still carries his sacrifice.

Perhaps, one day, the world will remember him.

And when they do, I hope they understand the price of awakening what should remain lost.

The Silence That Followed

The world stilled.

The ruins, once trembling with unnatural energy, now stood in absolute silence. No wind stirred, no whispers crept from the cracks in the stone. Even the ever-present ember-hued sky of the Ashen Wastes seemed to hold its breath.

I, Merlin, stood before the sealed gate, my staff planted firmly in the dust.

Aurek was gone.

He had given himself to the gate, just as the ancient inscriptions had demanded. His life—his very essence—had become the binding force that sealed the forgotten gods away once more.

But was the world truly safe?

I turned my gaze to the crack that remained. It was small—barely noticeable—but it was there.

And it meant that, someday, the seal would weaken again.

The Final Conversation

As I stood there, contemplating the weight of what had transpired, I heard a voice—a whisper, faint and distant, carried on the dying winds.

“Merlin…”

I turned sharply. The voice was familiar, yet changed—distorted by the space between worlds.

It was Aurek.

His form flickered, wavering like the afterimage of a dying flame. He stood not as flesh and blood, but as an echo, a lingering imprint of a man who had been.

“Where are you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Aurek’s translucent form glanced at the gate, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Not here,” he murmured. “Not anywhere, really.”

He lifted a hand, gazing at it as if unsure whether it was truly his own. “I exist between,” he said softly. “Not alive, not dead. Just… part of the seal now.”

I frowned. “I warned you. You didn’t have to do this.”

He laughed, though there was no joy in it. “You did warn me. But some things… they don’t belong to the past. They belong to the ones who come after.” His eyes darkened slightly. “If not me, then who?”

His gaze shifted toward the gate, the small fracture that remained.

“They’ll try again one day, won’t they?” he whispered.

I did not answer immediately.

Yes.

Of course they would.

Men never learned.

But the difference was, now they would find a guardian waiting for them.

“Perhaps,” I finally admitted. “But you will be here when they do.”

Aurek smiled, and this time, it was real. “I suppose I will.”

His form flickered again, his voice growing distant. “Merlin… one last thing.”

I nodded. “Speak, Aurek Fenrow.”

His eyes locked onto mine, filled with something I could not quite name—perhaps understanding, perhaps regret.

“Tell my story,” he said. “So that when they come, they’ll know.”

I inclined my head. “I will.”

And then… he was gone.

Vanished into the silence of the ruins, his presence lingering only in the faint shimmer of magic that now bound the gate.

The Long Walk Away

I stood there for a long time, watching the place where Aurek had once been. The wind returned, sighing softly through the ruins, as if mourning.

But the world was safe.

For now.

I took a final look at the gate, at the ancient, cracked stone and the dim, glowing runes that pulsed with quiet, restrained power.

And then, with a weary sigh, I turned and began the long journey back to the world of the living.

As I walked, the winds carried my voice across the wastes, whispering the tale of Aurek Fenrow—the man who sealed the gods away.

The world would forget his name.

But I would remember.

And, in time, when the gate trembles once more, I will return.

I always do.

Final Thought

So now, traveler, you know the tale of The Gate of Forgotten Gods.

The Ashen Wastes remain, their dust whispering of things that should not be. The gate still stands, its fracture small but lingering. And somewhere, in the space between time and existence, Aurek Fenrow watches.

The world is safe.