Different, he thought.
Micheal knew it the instant he stepped further into its heart. The air here was thick and so were the shades and the sounds.
It was as though he'd left the familiar jungle he knew and was in some sort of hidden world-a place where ancient forces watched to see whether he was worthy.
The magic here was heavier, speaking through leaves and humming beneath his feet.
Every step he took, Michael could feel the pull of the jungle's magic on his heels, tugging him toward something.
He tried not to think of what he had seen in his vision: Veralune surrounded by darkness, the power drained from it. He wouldn't let that happen.
There was a soft rustling. He froze. He scanned the shadows, a chill crawling up his back. He was not alone.
"Going to Veralune, are we?" it said in a high, jingling tone that seemed almost inside his head.
Turning full about, he saw a tiny sprite hovering at shoulder height. No larger than his palm, the sprite's wings shone like emeralds in the poor light.
It regarded him with eyes full of mischief and with something else-with something akin to looking right through him.
Why would a spirit concern himself with Veralune?" he asked, his voice not too steady.
The spirit giggled, a soft breeze that rustled the leaves. "The jungle is all one, child. When Veralune suffers, we all suffer. And with each passing day, darkness grows stronger."
Micheal nodded. He now knew this journey was bigger than he was. "Can you show me the way?"
The spirit tilted its head and regarded him thoughtfully. "I can guide you, but only to the beginning of the trial. The rest, you must do alone."
Micheal nodded slightly. They moved together, pressing deeper into the jungle, the spirit flitting ahead like a tiny guiding light.
They passed towering trees whose roots curled like the fingers of some ancient being, vines that seemed almost to watch him as he passed. Micheal could feel the weight of the jungle's magic around him, testing him.
They finally reached a small clearing with an archway through it, constructed from stone and overgrown with heavy, twisting vines. The spirit stopped right before it, seeming not to be able to pass.
"This is the first trial," the spirit said. "Enter and prove your worth."
Micheal took a deep breath, steeled himself, and stepped across under the arch. The air seemed to shift, and the sounds of the jungle fell away to an unsettling silence.
A moment later, the earth undulated beneath his feet. Roots burst from the ground, twining into walls that wove a maze about him. Micheal turned to leave, but his entrance was lost as more vines shut off his exit.
"Great," he muttered. He could feel the magic surging through the maze, a silent test awaiting his reaction.
He reached out, his fingers grazing the wall of vines. Closing his eyes, he listened, trying to feel the magic as his mother had taught him.
A faint warmth seeped into his hand, and he felt a gentle tug, an almost imperceptible current carrying him forward.
Micheal stepped forward, took another, and allowed the feeling to guide him through twists that grew more and more disorienting-or, at least, it seemed that the maze shifted around him. Still, he needed to focus, following the quiet pull of magic.
Finally, he reached the center of the maze, an opening that housed a figure filled with darkness. Micheal did not move further as the aura emanating from it was powerful, ancient, and watchful.
"You seek Veralune," the figure spoke in a deep and echoing voice, "but to reach it, you must face your fears.
Before Micheal could answer, the shadows had begun to swirl and take forms in the air before him. He saw himself when he was a young boy, lost and lonely, walking through the jungles after his parents' death.
He saw the loneliness, the nights he had doubted himself, wondering if he was strong enough to survive.
The images shifted and revealed something else to him: a vision of himself, but twisted, his eyes darkened by a wash of anger and resentment.
The other version of himself stood in front of Veralune, his hands crackling with dark energy, ready to destroy the very thing he sought to protect.
Micheal's stomach twisted. He finally realized that this was his own fear, the fear of not being strong enough, the fear of failing those he loved, the fear of being consumed by his inner darkness.
The voice of the figure broke through the vision. "To pass this trial, you must embrace the darkness within yourself. Only then will you be able to control it."
Micheal breathed shakily as the weight of his own fears leaned down on him. But he couldn't let them control him. He closed his eyes, focusing on memories to let them surface.
This time, he didn't push them away; instead, he accepted them, knowing his doubts were part of him-but they didn't define him.
Then, as he opened his eyes, the shadows were gone. The figure nodded, and his eyes shone with approval.
"You have passed the first trial. Beyond lies the path to Veralune," it said, and disappeared.
Micheal felt relieved, stronger, and with a new insight into his personality. He knew his journey was very far from over, but he was ready for whatever was to come.
As he faced back toward the jungle path, the magic of the jungle was running through his veins once more and much more powerfully this time.
Yet, as he took that very first step, he shivered down his spine: the magic of the jungle was getting him ready, yet it was bound only with the very beginning of trials.