As Micheal walked into the heart of the jungle, the light of the spirit grew ahead of him, while thick trees, their gnarled branches clasped over one another, seemed to press in closer, forming a tunnel of shadow.
The jungle had stopped talking as he went further inside. No whispers, no rustling leaves, only rhythmic crunch and a constant humming magic in the air.
"Stop!" the spirit said firmly. "You have now reached the first threshold of Veralune's domain. But you shall not cross unless you first confront the Keeper."
"The Keeper?" Micheal asked, his grip on his staff tight.
The spirit stopped, then turned to face him. "The Keeper is guardian to the way ahead. It protects the secrets of Veralune, who wishes only to let the worthy pass.
Micheal nodded, holding his grip tighter. "What kind of test is this one?"
"You shall see soon enough," said the spirit, softer now. "Be ready, Micheal. The Keeper is not a patient guardian."
The light from the spirit flickered and then vanished, leaving Micheal in solitude.
He stood there, scanning his surroundings. Ahead of him, the path ended at an enormous tree, its trunk wider than any he'd ever seen.
Its roots twisted across the ground like giant serpents, some disappearing into the earth while others formed natural arches and steps. The air around it was thick with magic, buzzing against his skin.
As Micheal drew closer, the roots shifted and tugged back all but in welcome for him. There came a low rumble from the tree.
He froze as the bark began to stir, splitting, twisting until the figure finally came forth.
The Keeper.
Colossal it was, its body made only of woods and roots. The arms were thick, gnarled as from a clutch of old branches, while the eyes glowed deep green with wisdom and strength from the jungle itself.
Its face was almost human, yet so alien, rough in its features yet somehow regal, as if to have watched over this place for centuries.
You seek to enter Veralune's domain," the Keeper said in a deep voice resonant with the creaking of ancient trees. "Why have you come?"
Micheal swallowed hard and stood his ground. "I am here to protect Veralune. The darkness is spreading, and if nobody stops it, the jungle-everything-will fall."
The Keeper leaned its head to him, watching him. "Your words are good and well, but here, words mean little. You are supposed to prove your strength, resolve, and connection to the jungle in order to enter. Do you accept this trial?"
Micheal nodded. "I do.
The Keeper raised his big arm, and the roots around them immediately began to twist and quiver. The ground beneath Micheal shook as the roots formed a wide circle, pinning them both in. The Keeper took one step forward, looming over Micheal.
"Your trial is simple," he said. "Defeat me, and the path will open.
Micheal's breath caught in his throat. He did not know how he could be able to defeat anything so huge, so old. But there was no going back now.
The Keeper slammed his arm into the ground, and roots shot towards Micheal like striking vipers. He jumped back and barely avoided them, raising his staff.
"Alright," he muttered to himself rather than to anyone. "Let's see what I can do.
He focused, drawing the jungle's energy through the staff. The air around him began to ripple and he felt the now-familiar heat of power running through his veins.
With a jerk of the staff, a wave of force surged toward the roots. They recoiled but didn't stop-twisting, circling him, forcing him to keep moving.
The Keeper regarded him with glowing eyes, serene and yet unrelenting. "The magic of the jungle courses through your veins, but you still have yet to master it. Show me some strength."
Micheal gritted his teeth and dodged another blow, sending a pulse of energy into the ground. The roots beneath him splintered, giving him a moment's reprieve.
A QAHe took the opportunity to steel himself, closing his eyes to reach out into the jungle's magic.
He needs me, he thought, as he dared the jungle to listen.
A soft hum answered him; he felt a surge of power from the ground. When he opened his eyes again, the jungle was somewhat sharper around him-like the place was more alive. The staff in his hands pulsed with light; he felt a new confidence.
The Keeper shifted again, raising both arms this time. The roots and vines plunged forward once more-fast, hard, relentless. But then Micheal didn't back away.
He surged forward, his sword slashing through vines in bursts of magic, faster and quick with his movements.
In a scream, he channeled an appallingly focused wave of energy against the Keeper itself. The force struck its chest, and it stumbled backward.
For a moment, Micheal felt an ember of hope-'he could do this.'
But then the Keeper wasn't done. It let out a deep, echoing roar, the roots around it erupting in a storm of motion that ensnared Micheal, blocking any means of his retreat.
"You fight well," the Keeper said with a tinge of approval in his voice. "But power is not everything. Show me your resolve."
Micheal clenched his fists and held the staff tighter. He couldn't afford to show hesitation. This wasn't just a fight; this was about everything he had learned and fought for.
The roots closed in, but instead of retreating, Micheal planted his feet and focused, putting all his energy into the staff.
Surges of magic shot through him, making the staff glow all the brighter until with a shout he released a powerful burst of light that shattered the encircling roots.
The Keeper paused, its glowing eyes narrowing as it regarded him.
"You are brave," it said, "and the magic of the jungle runs in your veins. But do you know its purpose?"
Micheal stuttered, his mind taken aback by the question. "Its purpose?"
"The jungle is alive," the Keeper said, and it lowered its arms. "Its magic is not for you to command at whim. It is a tie, a sharing. And it is only in understanding that which you will be truly worthy of Veralune."
Micheal lowered his staff, the Keeper's words sinking in. He'd been using the jungle's magic like a tool, focusing only on its power.
But the jungle wasn't just a source of energy,it was a living force, one that demanded respect.
"I understand," Micheal said, his voice steady. "I'll honor the jungle and its magic. I'll protect it, not just use it."
The Keeper studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"You have passed," it said, its body stepped back, and the roots retreated to show a new path deeper in the jungle.
Micheal felt a wave of relief wash over him; yet, this feeling of responsibility felt new. The jungle was not just a place to be protected, but a part of him right now, and he was a part of it.
The Keeper's glowing eyes softened. "The path to Veralune lies ahead. Walk it with purpose, Micheal, and you may yet succeed."
Micheal nodded, grasping his staff as he stepped onto the new path. The Keeper watched him go, its presence dissolving back into the tree as if it had never been there.
The jungle around Micheal was quiet now, but not in a dangerous way. It felt… peaceful, in fact-as if in recognition of his progress.
He couldn't stop smiling while he walked. He knew he had yet much to cover but for the first time felt a sense of belonging here, as if the jungle itself was beginning to welcome him.
And he was ready for what was next.