Micheal made his way through the thick jungle, his boots squelching against the dampened soil.
The battle that had taken place with the river serpent had indeed drained him, both physically and emotionally, but the jungle offered no time for resting.
Every step he made seemed to draw him deeper into it-the trees growing taller, their trunks gnarled and twisted like frozen sentinels.
The path grew narrower, with growths forcing Micheal to slow down. His staff, now glowing softly, cast long, dancing shadows across the trees.
"Where am I now?" he muttered, brushing aside a low-lying vine.
The treetops started to break apart and a round clearing came into view; that place was shrouded in an uncanny, grayish mist.
Right in the middle of it, a huge tree with a hollow trunk stood open like an open mouth. The bark was blackened, scarred, and its twisted branches reached out like skeletal arms.
Micheal paused, his footfalls silent at the edge of the clearing, as his instincts screamed at him to turn back. But he knew he couldn't. The jungle hadn't brought him here by accident.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the clearing.
The instant Micheal stepped inside, the air shifted. The mist grew thicker, churning around him in eddies, as if alive. He gripped his staff tighter, eyes peering up at the tree for any signs of danger.
"You have finally come," a voice whispered soft and haunting.
Micheal turned around, but no one was there. It was as if the voice came from all places at the same time and none.
"Who's there?" he shouted again, and his staff radiated more light.
The mist coalesced in front of him, forming a vague outline of a figure-a woman, shrouded in darkness. Her features were not distinct; her eyes gleaming dimly, like embers.
"I am the keeper of this grove," she said, and her voice seemed to echo as if carried on the wind. "You stand before the Hollow Tree, a place of judgment."
"Judgment?" Micheal asked warily.
The figure nodded. "The jungle tests not only your strength and resolve but also your heart. Here, your past will weigh against your future."
Micheal's heart sank. Another trial. He'd barely made it through the last one, and now this?
"I've faced my fears and my grief," he said firmly. "What more do you want from me?"
The figure raised an ethereal hand, gesturing toward the Hollow Tree. "Step inside and find out."
Micheal glanced at the tree's dark opening, unease twisting in his gut. But he knew he couldn't refuse.
He took another deep breath and went towards the tree. With each step, the air was growing colder, the mist clung to him like icy fingers. He crossed the threshold, enveloped into darkness.
The inside of the Hollow Tree was impossibly big, much larger than it had seemed from without. The walls pulsed faintly, as if the tree were alive and its veins shone with eerie blue light.
In the middle of the hollow space, a pedestal of twisted roots rose. A crystalline orb rested on top of it, colors swirling across its surface, shifting and changing like a living thing.
Micheal approached cautiously, his staff's glow dimming before the light of the orb.
"What is this?" he asked aloud; his voice echoed through the empty space.
"The Orb of Reflections," answered the voice of the shadowy figure, though she was nowhere to be seen. "Touch it, and see the truths you hide from yourself.
Micheal hesitated, his hand hovering over the orb. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to pull back, but he knew he couldn't avoid this.
Taking a deep breath, he laid his hand on the orb.
The world around him vanished.
He was no longer in the tree but standing in a familiar clearing—a memory. The sun shone warm, the air heavy with the scent of flowers in bloom.
And there she was.
His mother was on her knees beside a small fire, neatly preparing some food. She was humming a soft tune, the one so familiar it constricted Micheal's chest.
"Mom?" he whispered, shaking.
She looked up and smiled, warmth and love brimming on her face. "Micheal, come sit with me.
He wanted to run to her, throw his arms around her, and never let go. But as he stepped forward, the scene began to distort. The sky darkened, flowers withered, and the fire died out, leaving just ash.
His mother's figure began to fade. Her smile was sad now. "You have to let go, Micheal."
"No!" he shouted, reaching out to her. "Don't leave me again!
But in an instant, she vanished, replaced by a shadowy figure with eyes of glowing red.
The figure moved closer, exuding evil intentions. "You cling to the past like a child," it hissed. "How can you hope to survive the jungle when you're weighed down by what you've lost?"
"I'm not weighed down," Micheal said, though his voice shook.
The figure laughed, cold and hollow. "You lie to yourself. You shall never move forward until you actually let go."
The glade dissolved, and Micheal was back in the Hollow Tree, his hand still laid on the orb.
He stumbled backward, his chest heaving as if he'd been running for hours. The light of the orb dimmed, and the figure stood before him again.
"You have seen your burden," she said. "Now, what will you do?
Micheal straightened, the grip on his staff firm. "I won't forget her," he declared, not flinching. "But neither would I be held back by the memory. I carry her with me, and it's strength, not weight, to me."
The figure watched him for an instant and nodded. "You have passed the Trial of Memory. Your will shall be welcomed by the jungle.
The tree started to shake, the walls brighter now as the roots beneath Micheal's feet began to move. The pedestal went down, and the Hollow Tree opened up to the outside jungle.
Micheal stepped out into the sun, lighter in his heart than he had been for days. The trials were far from over, but for the first time, he felt like he was truly moving forward.
He stepped into the unknown, his next step watched over by the jungle.