With the weak light before him, Micheal followed, his staff clutched tightly in his hands.
The path seemed to stretch on forever, going deeper into the heart of the jungle. The heavy canopy above allowed only slivers of light to break through, casting eerie patterns on the ground.
Every step he made was accompanied by the sound of unseen creatures rustling about, yet none came into view.
After what seemed like hours, Micheal emerged into a small clearing. The air here was different—lighter.
In the center of the clearing stood a stone altar, ancient and covered in moss. Glowing symbols, similar to those on the trees earlier, were etched into its surface.
Micheal approached cautiously. The altar pulsed with faint energy, and he was able to feel the magic emanating from it. It wasn't the dark, chaotic energy he had felt from the shadows-it was calmer, steadier, almost inviting.
"This must be important," Micheal muttered to himself, kneeling to examine the markings. The symbols looked familiar, as though he had seen them somewhere before.
His hand reaching out to touch the altar, a soft voice echoed through the clearing.
"Why do you seek to disturb what has been forgotten?"
Micheal froze, his hand hovering over the stone. He turned quickly, searching for the source of the voice.
It wasn't like the raspy whispers of the shadows or the commanding tone of the Keeper. This voice was gentle, almost sorrowful.
Who's there?" Micheal asked, his voice firm, even as a chill ran down his spine.
From the edge of the clearing now came a figure: a woman, though her form was indistinct, almost as if one saw her reflection in water.
She was draped in flowing robes that seemed to shimmer like moonlight. Her hair stirred as if it were in some invisible breeze. Her eyes, aglow softly, fastened upon Micheal.
"I am a memory," she said, her voice laced with a hint of sadness. "A fragment of what once was."
Micheal rose to his feet slowly, his staff still in his hand. "A memory? Of what?"
The woman gestured toward the altar. "This was once a place of great power, a connection to the heart of the jungle. But it has been left alone, forgotten by those who once revered it."
"Why?" Micheal asked, taking a closer step.
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Because they were afraid of what they could not control." The magic here is pure, untamed.... It doesn't bow to a will, much less to the will of the guardians of the jungle. And with time, they decided to shut it and leave only the residue of its existence.
Micheal looked at the altar once more. The symbols around it shone even brighter, as if answering her words.
"If it is that powerful, why am I being led here? The jungle wouldn't lead me to such a thing without some reason."
The faint smile on the woman's face remained. "Perhaps the jungle saw something in you that others did not. Or perhaps it only wants to test you further."
Micheal's brow furrowed. "Another test?"
She took another step forward, her shadow flashing. "This is no common test, young one. That altar holds a fragment of the purest magic of this jungle.
To touch it is to open yourself up to its essence. But let me warn you: it will show your innermost truths. Your fears, your desires, your weaknesses-it will bare them. Not everyone can withstand such a trial.
Micheal faltered. In those words, the cold whisper of the woman sent a shiver down his spine.
Yet he knew he couldn't turn back. He had pressed too far, suffered too much, to let fear have his final word.
"What happens if I fail?"
Her face went grimly serious. "If you fail, then the jungle will take you in its folds. Your spirit will mingle with the jungle, and you shall never leave this place.
And her words fell heavy on Micheal's shoulders. But he thought of the darkness oozing across the jungle, of the faces of the people depending upon him—people he had never met but felt shackled to protect.
"A watcher here and guard," he said firmly.
She nodded, stepping back. "Then approach the altar. Place your hands on its surface, and let the magic flow through you. Do not resist it, no matter what it shows you."
Micheal took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on his staff before he set it aside. Slowly, he stepped forward, the glow of the altar growing brighter with each step.
When he reached it, he laid his hands on the stone. In that instant, a jolt of energy ran through him, and the world around him changed.
---
He was not in the clearing anymore. He was standing in some part light, part shadow. The edges were ever in motion. There were whispers all around him, soft and indistinct, like cave echoes.
Micheal turned, searching for anything familiar. The ground beneath his feet felt solid, yet he could not see it. The air was neither warm nor cold, but it carried a strange, electric charge.
"What is this place?" he muttered.
"This is your soul," the woman's voice echoed, though she was nowhere to be seen. "The magic of the altar has brought you here to face yourself.
Micheal frowned, his heart pounding. Before he could respond, the shadows around him began to move. Shapes formed within them—figures he recognized.
The first was his mother-her face tired, her eyes with concern. She said nothing but stood watching him, the expression on her face causing a pang in his chest.
"Mom?" Micheal whispered, stepping towards her, but the moment he reached for her, she turned into another figure-himself.
This Micheal was different. His eyes glowed red like the shadows, and his expression was twisted with anger and despair. "You think you can save anyone?" the figure sneered. "You couldn't even save her."
Micheal stumbled backward, his breath catching. "That's not true!" he shouted.
The figure laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You're weak. You've always been weak. The jungle will eat you alive, just like it did the others.
The whispers grew louder until they whirled around Micheal in maelstrom fashion. He clutched his head, trying to shut them out, but they would not give way.
"Stop it!" he yelled.
A burst of light erupted from inside him and silenced the voices. Opening his eyes, the shadows had disappeared.
Light surrounding him became warm, steady, and he felt a wave of calmness wash over him.
"You are stronger than I thought," the voice of the woman said, softer now. "Yet, remember, strength itself is not everything. The jungle will keep testing and testing your will. Never let it break.akan
Again, the world shifted to place Micheal back in the clearing. The glow of the altar was gone, and so was the woman.
He stumbled backward, his breathing heavy. His hands still tingled from the magic, but he felt. different. Lighter, yet stronger, as if a part of him had been reforged.
Picking up his staff, Micheal looked toward the path ahead. The jungle was waiting, but so was he.
'Lets' do this'.