Stavros the Unwavering: The Last One Clings
As told by Stavros, Warden of the Cave of Echoing Secrets
Stavros the Unwavering is the eternal guardian of the Cave of Echoing Secrets—a place where relics of unimaginable power lie hidden beneath stone and flame. Only the fearless—or the foolish—dare to seek them. This tale is not of the horde that came in numbers… but of the last one who clung.
Stavros the Unwavering Watches as the Dead Approach
They came at dusk, as they always do. When the sun is a bleeding eye, and the winds carry the scent of bone dust. Their commander thought the timing clever – Foolish.
I heard them long before I saw them: the scraping of steel on gravel, the clatter of femurs against rusted mail. A skeletal army stitched together by dark magics and desperation. Marionettes of some unseen necromancer, bold enough to challenge me… but not bold enough to come himself.
The Cave of Echoing Secrets Is Not Easily Claimed
They sought the Cave of Echoing Secrets. They always do.
Whispers travel far:
“A pool that unweaves fate…”
“Scrolls that sing to time…”
“Crystals that call to the stars…”
They hear fragments—just enough to spark greed, never enough to comprehend what cost truly means.
And so they came.
And so they fell.
Stavros the Unwavering Meets them in Battle
I met them on the ridge, where the cliff throat yawns open and lava flows like prophecy.
No battle horn was sounded.
No demands were made.
They knew who I was.
They charged anyway.
My blade carved arcs through the dimming light.
My claws split spines like reeds.
Each step I took was a denial of their purpose.
Each strike, a reminder:
The cave does not surrender its truths. And I do not grant mercy.
When it was done, silence fell—thick and pulsing.
The kind of silence that remembers violence.
That tastes like blood and ash.
One Clings—But None Shall Pass
And yet… One remained.
It had fled the fray—scrambled backward like a frightened animal, and found itself at the edge of the cliff. The skeleton clung now to the crumbling lip, a single hand hooked on rough stone. Its jaw hung open in a silent scream and legs kicked uselessly against the void.
The skeleton looked at me. Not with rage, not with courage – only fear. As if fear alone might bargain for its life. I approached slowly—each step deliberate, echoing like a drumbeat of judgment.
Its voice scraped out of its skull like wind through hollow reeds.
“Please…”
A word it did not understand. A word it had been taught to mimic by some desperate mage hoping fear would do what swords could not.
I stood above the skeleton while my shadow swallowed it whole.
“You invaded sacred ground,” I said. My voice was low and cold – like a storm buried under mountains.
“You were warned by the runes. You knew what was kept here… and yet you came anyway.”
Its fingers slipped – just enough for a stone to break loose and tumble past the skeleton, hissing as it disappeared into the lava below. Still, it clung. A trembling remnant of failure.
Pathetic.
They always believe there is a choice at the end. A chance of salvation. But there isn’t. Not here.
The Cave of Echoing Secrets is not guarded by walls or traps or spells.
It is guarded by me.
But I, Stavros the Unwavering, do not break. I was forged to be final.
Judgment Is Delivered by Stavros the Unwavering
Beneath us, the lava surged like a living thing—rivers of molten hatred churning and pulsing, eager to claim what I would cast down. I gave the skeleton one last look. There was no soul behind its eyes.
I slowly and deliberately raised my foot in preparation to kick the skeleton to his death— letting it see the judgment in my eyes. The wind howled like a chorus of the dead, shrieking their approval. It had no right to words. Only the sentence.
“Let your master feel your end,” I said, voice low with finality—no roar, no rage—just the cold edge of absolute resolve.
And then I struck.
My heel slammed into its chest with the force of a falling star—bones cracked, its frame bent backward in a violent arc. For a breathless instant, it hovered midair, arms flailing, skull wide in a soundless scream—then gravity claimed the skeleton, dragging it down into the seething fire below.
I watched until it vanished into the lava’s red maw, and only then did I exhale.
The Cave Seals Itself Once More
I turned from the cliff’s edge and walked toward the cave’s mouth, each footfall stirring echoes older than language. The very stone seemed to tense in recognition. As I neared, the towering obsidian door shuddered once, then split open with a low, resonant groan—like a giant awakening from slumber. Ancient runes ignited along its frame, pulsing with a deep, amber light that flickered in time with my breath.
It remembered me. It always does. And as I crossed its threshold, the light dimmed once more, sealing the secrets behind me… until the next fool comes seeking them.
But I, Stavros the Unwavering, will still be here.
Waiting.
Watching.
A shadow at the threshold, older than memory. A blade honed not by time, but by purpose. Guarding secrets no world was meant to hold.
And they will keep coming. And every time?
There will be one who clings.
One who begs.
One who hopes.
But none shall pass.
– Copyright © 2025
About These Toy Figures
This short story was inspired by a toy photography scene featuring:
- Stavros the Unwavering: The figure portraying Stavros is from the Four Horsemen 25th Anniversary collection—a powerful, crimson-armored warrior customized for this saga. His design evokes ancient strength and mythic purpose, making him a natural fit as Warden of the Cave of Echoing Secrets.
- Skeleton Warrior: The skeletal foe featured in this story is part of the Graveyard Skeletons line by Four Horsemen Studios—a stunningly sculpted figure with exceptional articulation and eerie presence, perfect for scenes of dark fantasy and doom.
