Elara's sleep was restless from the moment her eyes closed. At first, her dreams were fragments of the day—sparks of silvery energy, the clang of the training construct, Liam's reassuring voice. But slowly, the familiar gave way to something darker.
She found herself standing in an endless void, the ground beneath her swirling black mist. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, twisting into impossible shapes. The air was heavy and thick with the feeling of being watched.
"Elara…" a voice whispered, low and chilling.
She spun around, but no one was there.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice echoing unnaturally in the emptiness.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a figure standing just out of reach, its shape indistinct and shifting. As she stepped closer, the figure dissolved into smoke, reforming behind her.
"Elara," the voice called again, this time closer.
Her Veilmark tingled, faintly glowing against her skin. She raised her hand instinctively, summoning the barrier of silvery light—but nothing happened. The mark remained dim, unresponsive.
The ground beneath her rippled, and suddenly she was no longer in the void. Instead, she stood in the academy's courtyard, but it was wrong—distorted. The walls were too high, the ivy slithered like snakes, and the sky was a deep, unnatural red.
"Elara, you must run!" a voice cried.
She turned to see Zara, but her friend's face was pale and blurred, like a faded memory. Before Elara could respond, the shadows engulfed Zara, pulling her to the ground.
"No!" Elara screamed, rushing forward, but the space stretched impossibly long, keeping her from reaching Zara.
Laughter echoed around her, cold and mocking. The figure from before materialized again, this time more defined. It was tall and cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood. Tendrils of darkness extended from its form, withering like living smoke.
"You cannot run," it said, its voice resonating deep in her chest.
"What do you want?" Elara demanded, her voice trembling but fierce.
The figure tilted its head. "To teach you."
Without warning, the figure lunged. Elara tried to move, but the ground beneath her held her feet fast, like quicksand. The shadowy tendrils lashed toward her, and she raised her hand in desperation.
A flicker of silvery light appeared—weak, but enough to deflect the attack.
"You cannot fight me here," the figure hissed. "This is my domain. You are powerless."
Elara gritted her teeth, trying to summon more of the light, but her Veilmark flickered and dimmed. The tendrils lashed out again, striking her and sending her stumbling back. Pain shot through her, cold and searing, though she knew it wasn't real.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream.
But it felt real—too real. The figure loomed closer, its shape warping and twisting as if it fed on her fear.
"You're weak," it whispered, its voice echoing from all directions. "You rely on instincts because you lack control. Just like in the waking world."
The words stung, cutting deeper than any physical blow.
"Shut up!" Elara shouted, forcing herself to stand.
The figure chuckled, its tendrils curling around her wrists pulling her down. The shadows tightened, their weight pressing against her chest, making it hard to breathe. The world around her twisted again, the void transformed into a chaotic landscape of jagged cliffs and dark, churning skies.
She struggled against the tendrils, but they held firm, dragging her closer to the edge of a cliff. Below, an abyss of swirling darkness awaited.
"No!" she cried, her voice trembling but defiant.
The figure loomed over her. "You cannot escape what you are, Elara. You fight the shadows, but they are a part of you. Accept them, and you may survive. Deny them, and you will fail."
The abyss seemed to call to her, its pull growing stronger. Elara's heart raced, her mind spinning. The figure's words were like poison, seeping into her thoughts.
What if it's right? What if I'm not strong enough?
But then, she remembered Zara's words: You just have to trust yourself.
Elara took a shaky breath, closing her eyes. She couldn't fight the shadows with brute force—that much was clear. Her Veilmark's power wasn't something she could demand; it required understanding.
The tendrils tightened, and she felt herself slipping closer to the edge.
"No," she said again, her voice firmer this time. "This is my mind. My dream."
The tendrils faltered for a moment, and Elara seized the chance. She focused inward, searching for the light she knew was there. It was faint, buried beneath layers of fear and doubt, but it was there—a spark of the silvery energy deep within her.
The figure snarled, its form rippling. "You connont resist me forever."
"I don't have to resist you," Elara said, her voice steady now. "You're part of me, but you don't control me."
She concentrated, letting the spark grow. The light expanded, flowing through her veins like a river. Her Veilmark flared to life, and the tendrils burned away as the silver energy surged outward.
The figure roared, retreating, but the shadows around her fought back, twisting and lashing out like a storm. The ground beneath her shook, splitting into fragments as the abyss loomed closer.
Elara dropped to her knees, struggling to maintain the light. It felt like holding back a tidal wave with her bare hands, but she refused to let go.
This is my mind, she repeated to herself. Not theirs.
The light within her grew brighter, pushing back the shadows inch by inch. The figure screamed, its form breaking apart, but the darkness fought harder, clawing at her resolve.
Elara's voice trembled under the weight of the battle, her energy waning. The silvery energy began to flicker, and for a moment, doubt crept back in.
What if I fail? What if the shadows win?
But then she remembered the moments when her Veilmark responded—against the construct, against the creature in the library. It wasn't just about strength. It was about trust.
She took a deep breath and let go of her fear.
The light surged, brighter than ever. The shadow shrieked as they dissolved, and the figure shattered into fragments of smoke. The chaotic landscape faded replaced by calm, quiet darkness.
Elara stood in the void, her Veilmark glowing steadily. She felt… different. Stronger.
"You'll come back," a faint voice whispered, barely audible. "You cannot deny us forever."
The voice faded, and Elara exhaled, her body relaxing as the dream dissolved around her.
Elara jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat and her heart pounding like a drum. The morning light filtering through the curtains was a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of her dream. She sat up slowly, her mind reeling as fragments of the nightmare clung to her thoughts.
Her Veilmark tingled faintly, the silver glow subsiding as she clenched and unclenched her hand. For the first time since arriving at the academy, the mark felt different—not just a symbol, but a part of her.
The voice of the shadowed figure echoed in her mind: You cannot deny us forever.
Shaking her head, she pushed the memory aside. "It's just a dream," she whispered, though the weight of the encounter told otherwise.