The mountain gap cut through like bleached cracks across the land - Zenith, a shiny silver-tan bay horse, already wrestling with self-doubt. Dusty ash coated his fur, normally spotless, so he seemed less noble explorer, more forgotten monument left out in the rain. “This was not a shortcut, Stargazer,” Zenith clipped, his voice sharp enough to etch glass. “This is a betrayal of basic navigation. We have been climbing for hours toward what appears to be a cairn built solely out of bad decisions.” Stargazer, a horse with fur like midnight velvet soaking up moonlight, twitched her left ear slightly. Unlike Zenith’s fiery temper, she moved fast but stayed silent, always watching - too aware for comfort. “The map indicated the Stones of the Forgotten would provide passage onto the Western Trail,” she murmured, skirting a deep crevice with practiced ease. “It did not promise a pleasant journey, Zenith. Only a swift one.” They reached the top of the last slope, stepping into an empty, elevated valley. The breeze stopped here - suddenly quiet, heavy like a weight on their ears. In the middle of the basin rose what they’d been after - a ring of eight huge basalt columns, called the Whispering Teeth by folks around here. Wider than wagons, each stone bore cracks from old storms or raw earth forces. Like shattered teeth stuck in rock gums, they loomed there, silent. Inside their loop, hidden just out of sight, waited an unknown presence. It stood high - higher than any horse - wrapped all over in thick fabric like rust-colored burlap. No arms in hand, yet the shape under that cloak looked off, maybe too slim or just built strange. But the face - that hit hard: a skull carved from pale stone, bare except for two dark holes where eyes should’ve been. The shape stayed still. Yet it stood there among broken stones, gazing blankly, giving off a heavy silence like ancient ages. Zenith jerked to a halt, every muscle tightening. Normally he’d brush off such unease - yet this sensation clawed at his nerves. A quick shake of his head, sharp and forceful, fought the idea that the peak might’ve birthed some living darkness just to stand in their way. “Hey,” Zenith said, moving ahead on purpose, sending stones flying at the person. His pale hair stood up. This thing’s different - some kind of marker. Got a problem with that? We’re trying to get by here.” The masked person didn't move, stayed facing forward - ignoring the sound completely. Zenith stepped forward again, this time with a longer pace. Because no one paid attention, he felt fired up inside. To him, that kind of silence was like a slap in the face - unacceptable. Since he always believed he mattered most, waiting wasn't an option. “I am Zenith,” he stated, his voice ringing with the boastful authority he used to cover his nerves. “We are travelers with pressing business. You are obscuring the route. Step aside, or explain your purpose here.” Quiet. Nothing moving, nothing heard - just deep, total hush. Stargazer studied the shape - her pale eyes tight with focus, spotting things Zenith overlooked while fuming. The robe hung still, no movement at all despite the air’s hush. Around it, the glow felt off, weaker somehow, like something was sucking up the brightness nearby. “Zenith, wait,” Stargazer warned, her tone low and cautious. “Look closer. This isn’t a vagrant.” Yet Zenith had already made his choice. He hated quiet nearly as much as he hated being vague. Though sharp words suited him better than whispers ever could. Still, action came easier than waiting. "I'm speaking to you!" he snapped, kicking his foot so hard a small stone popped out of a crack. That small shake was what ended the quiet in the ring of stones. The head leaned sideways - smooth, almost fluid, like it wasn't attached to anything beneath, just the mask turning around a point that shouldn’t exist. Then those hollow eyes locked onto Zenith. After that, a sound spoke. It didn’t come from lungs or any living thing. Instead, it rose up - all at once - from the ground underfoot, the thin air above, along with the gaps between the dark stone columns. One part rumbled like ice grinding slow underground, another cracked like splintering glass mixed right into it. Echoes bounced inside the rocks, not just off them. You felt it more than heard it - like a river roaring through some ancient tomb, way down below, yet somehow pressing against your ears. “The traveler seeks passage. The traveler brings dust.” The noise shook Zenith’s ribs, so loud it made his jaw throb. His usual confidence cracked - this time, fear crept in, sharp and quiet. It was like he’d yelled at a cliff and realized how small he really was. “The Dust is irrelevant,” Zenith managed, forcing his tone back to bravado, though his voice came out a fraction higher than intended. “We are here for the Western Trail. Are you a guardian? Or just a remarkably inconvenient fool?” The shadowy person lifted a hand from under the thick cloak. That arm seemed pale, thin - like old wood left too long in sunlight. Instead of aiming at Zenith, it aimed lower, toward the dirt right below his feet. There, a tiny rock he’d knocked free shook hard, trembling without stopping. “Relevance is a conceit of the present moment,” the voice resonated, the layered echo cycling through the air. “I am the keeper of the path, and I am the path itself. You bring the noise of haste to the place of stillness. You ask what I am, but you have not yet asked what I have witnessed.” Stargazer eased backward, muscles along her sides tightening. Normally she’d welcome odd things, yet this moment didn’t seem like illusion - but something fixed, deep in nature’s rules. “We mean no disrespect to the site,” Stargazer interjected smoothly, trying to salvage the situation. She dipped her head slightly. “We are simply off schedule. If there is a toll or a ritual required for safe passage through the Stones, please inform us.” The shape shifted its creepy stare straight at Stargazer, yet the deep hum dipped a bit - less like rumbling stone, more like the ring of old metal bells. “Your companion has a heavy spirit, Mare. He carries a destination, not a purpose. The path requires purpose. The stones demand a burden.” It dropped its arm, yet the tremor in the rocks kept going. Around the shape, the atmosphere flickered, warping the forms of the dark stone columns at its back. Zenith snarled, frustration winning out over fear. He hated riddles and cryptic demands. “We have no time for cryptic nonsense! If you want an exchange, name it. Gold? Lore? We have what we need, and we are not wasting daylight on a philosophical dispute with a skull in a sheet!” The shape slowly turned toward Zenith, moving in a way that seemed less human - more like something meant to happen. Its posture changed slightly, while the thick cloth around it dropped into place, almost like it was growing from the ground. “Very well. The required burden is understanding,” the figure echoed. “You seek the Western Trail. You seek what lies beyond the horizon. But I see the dust of where you fled.” A shiver ran across the dirt. For just a blink, the broken rocks lit up with a pale blue glow - so faint, yet clear enough to show the person’s shadow wasn’t on the earth, instead hanging in midair behind them, reaching way past the edge of the ring. “If you walk the path, you will find what you seek. But if you walk the path, you will also lose what you cherish most. Tell me, magnificent Zenith, traveler of impatience: What is the thing you cherish least, yet cannot bear to lose?” The voice bounced through the cold space, huge and unreal. A query that dug into parts of him he didn’t want to touch. Zenith stood still - asked to lay bare his core to some faceless echo, unsure what to do. Charging ahead felt possible, yet something primal warned it might crack the ground underfoot. Escape wasn’t an option - not with Stargazer’s gaze locked on him. He held his place, the grayish shine on his coat glinting from what little sun remained up there, thoughts scrambling - not just for words back, but something sharper, dirtier, anything to dodge this oddly personal threat closing in. What’s something you don’t care much about - but would hate to give up? Zenith opened his mouth, set to argue or bluff - then froze. The sharp comeback tangled up inside him, clashing hard with the sinking feeling that truth was slipping through his fingers. He just wasn’t sure what it was anymore.