When Micheal reached the edge of a shimmering river, the sun had barely pierced the jungle canopy.
The water flowed with an unnatural stillness, reflecting the golden light of his staff as if it were liquid glass.
It was beautiful, but Micheal didn't trust it. Nothing in the jungle was ever quite as harmless as it seemed.
He knelt along the riverbank, observing the water. There were no ripples, no signs of fish or insects, nothing but a mirror-like reflection that seemed to extend down the length of his visibility.
"What now?" he muttered to himself.
Faintly, the voice of the Keeper echoed in his mind: 'The path of the jungle will direct you, but it does not always explain itself.'
Micheal sighed, shaking his head. "Cryptic as always."
Still, he couldn't just sit there. The river clearly wasn't an obstacle he could walk around; the jungle had brought him here for a reason.
With a reluctant breath, he placed his staff across his back, secured his belongings, and stepped into the water.
The water was colder than he'd anticipated; the chill bit at his skin even in the sauna-like jungle air. Still, the deeper he made his way into it, the colder it became-the cold receded and left a weird warmth to soak into his muscles. It wasn't unpleasant, just unsettling.
The river was not deep; it reached only his knees. With every step, the atmosphere around him grew heavier, and the world beyond this riverbank began to fade, as if the very jungle itself was pulling itself away from him.
"Is this another test?" Micheal muttered, looking at his surroundings.
As though in response, a faint voice wafted over the air-a soft, melodious whisper that sent shivers down his spine.
"Micheal."
He froze, his heart pounding. The voice was familiar, painfully so.
"Micheal. come closer."
His breath caught in his throat. It was his mother's voice.
He turned sharply, searching for the source of the sound, but the river was empty. The water remained unnervingly calm, reflecting his face back at him.
"You're not real," Micheal said aloud, gripping his staff tightly. "You can't be."
The voice laughed warmly and softly. "You have come so far, my brave boy. Are you not tired? Wouldn't it be easier to just rest?"
Micheal clenched his jaw while refusing to take one step further. "You are not her. She. she's gone."
The river stirred once and Micheal's reflection blurred. As it stilled, the face looking back at him was not his. It was his mother's, smiling with a soft regard.
"Micheal," she said once more, love in every word. "You do not have to do this alone. Come home."
Tears welled in Micheal's eyes despite himself. The face in the water was so familiar, so real, that he almost reached out. But something stopped him-a gnawing instinct that whispered this was a trap.
He took a step back, shaking his head. "You're not real," he repeated, more firmly this time. "You're just. just another trick."
The smile faltered, and a sorrowful look crossed the reflection's face. "Micheal, please. I'm here. Don't you want to see me again?"
The water started churning, the reflection now distorting as the voice took on an insistence. "You're so lost, Micheal. You can't do this without me. Let me help you."
"No!" Micheal shouted, his voice echoing across the river. "I won't fall for this!
The river stilled instantly, the reflection vanishing. For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by Micheal's ragged breathing.
Then, the water erupted.
A massive serpent of liquid rose from the river, its body coiling and twisting as it towered over Micheal. Its eyes were dark pools, filled with the same warmth and love that had laced the voice.
You spurn me, yet you carry the weight of your loss," the serpent hissed. "Do you think denying me will make you stronger? Do you think you can face the jungle without confronting your grief?"
Micheal raised his staff, its golden light flaring brightly. "I've faced my doubts. I've faced my fears. I can face you too.
The serpent struck, its massive jaws wide open. Micheal barely dodged in time, the water splashing around him as the creature's body crashed back into the river.
The battle began in earnest.
The serpent moved with impossible speed, striking at Micheal from all directions. Each time he dodged, the water splashed around him, soaking his clothes and making the ground beneath his feet slippery.
"Stop running!" the serpent roared, its voice shaking the air. "You cannot escape your past!"
"I am not running!" Micheal shouted back and slammed his staff into the riverbed. A blast of golden light erupted from it, forcing the serpent backward momentarily.
But it was insufficient. The serpent re-gelled, its body twisted around Micheal like a cage.
"You cannot fight me," it said, softer now. "You carry me with you, every step you take. The grief, the pain-it will never leave you."
Micheal hesitated, his grasp on the staff faltering. The serpent's words cut through, hitting a nerve in his resolution.
"It's true," he said quietly. "I do carry it. I miss her every day."
The serpent said nothing, his eyes remaining watchful.
"But that doesn't mean I'll let it control me," Micheal continued, his voice stronger now. "I miss her, and I always will. But she wouldn't want me to stop. She wouldn't want me to give up."
The serpent recoiled, its form wavering. "You. accept the pain?
Micheal nodded, his grip on the staff firm. "I accept it. It's part of me, but it's not all of me. I have to keep moving forward."
The serpent let out a low, mournful sound, its body beginning to dissolve into the river.
"You have passed," it said, its voice fading. "But remember, Micheal the pain may never leave, but neither will the strength it gives you."
As the serpent disappeared, so did the turbulence of the river, returning to its unnatural calm. Micheal stood there for a moment, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
"Another trial," he muttered, shaking his head. "How many more are there?"
The jungle didn't respond, but he felt its presence around him, heavier than before. It wasn't just testing him; it was teaching him.