Four hours had passed since the Trials began, and the Twilight Bastion had already begun testing its intruders. The forest seemed alive—its twisted trees shifting in the gloom, its shadows stretching unnaturally. The Flowlines beneath the ground pulsed faintly, but their rhythm felt more like a warning than a guide.
Eron's team had been moving cautiously, following the faint currents of glowing Flowline energy. Sarina had been uncharacteristically quiet, though her frequent glances over her shoulder betrayed her unease.
Then, Eldrin Vey's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Attention, competitors," the Elder's amplified tone echoed through the forest. "Two scrolls have already been claimed and delivered to the square."
Eron froze. The announcement hit like a thunderclap, breaking the fragile silence of the Bastion.
"What?" Sarina hissed, spinning toward Kieran. "That's impossible. It's only been four hours!"
Kieran's expression hardened, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "The Trials were designed to last two days. This doesn't make sense."
"They cheated," Sarina growled, pacing in frustration. "It's Pyroclan. It has to be Darian. He probably paid someone off or found some shortcut."
"That's not possible," Eron said, his voice low. He crouched to inspect the faintly glowing veins beneath their feet, brushing a hand over the dirt. "Eldrin wouldn't allow it. Not in the Bastion."
"Well, what then?" Sarina snapped, throwing up her hands. "Are we supposed to believe someone just strolled through this nightmare like it was nothing?"
Eron straightened, his sharp gray eyes meeting hers. "The how doesn't matter. What matters is that there are ten scrolls left."
Kieran nodded. "If we waste time, there'll be fewer by the time we find one. Let's move."
Sarina sighed but followed, though her muttering didn't stop. "I swear, if it's Darian, I'm going to—"
"Focus," Kieran interrupted, his voice firm. "If we don't keep our heads, we won't survive long enough to find a scroll."
Back in the Square
In the square, the air buzzed with disbelief as the first two victors stood before the crowd.
The first was Kaela Vren, a competitor from the Gladeborn clan. She was tall and lean, her sharp green eyes scanning the crowd with predatory calm. Though her leather armor bore light scuffs and her dark braids were frayed, she carried her scroll as if it weighed nothing.
Beside her stood Thorne Relak of Pyroclan, his fiery red hair and scarred face impossible to miss. His dented armor gleamed in the sunlight, and his broad frame radiated confidence. He held his scroll aloft like a trophy, his cocky grin daring anyone to challenge him.
"How did they finish so fast?" a villager whispered.
"This trial is supposed to last days," another murmured. "They must've had help."
Thorne laughed loudly, his voice booming across the square. "What's the matter? Too slow to keep up?"
Kaela, by contrast, said nothing. Her piercing gaze remained fixed on the Bastion's edge, her sharp features betraying no emotion.
Abyssal Tides
The Abyssal Tides team moved cautiously through the labyrinth of the Twilight Bastion, its shadows growing denser with every step. Tyris Fael, the team's broad-shouldered leader, held his glowing sword ready, his sharp blue eyes scanning the unnatural stillness around them.
"This place feels... off," Mira Velis murmured, her usually sharp tone softened by unease. She crouched low, placing a hand on the forest floor. The faint glow of the Flowlines pulsed beneath her fingers, but their rhythm was irregular—erratic, like a broken heartbeat.
"It's just the Bastion," Ryn Alen said, his twin daggers spinning idly in his hands. His wiry frame was tense, but his voice carried a forced bravado. "This is what it's supposed to do. Freak us out, right?"
Mira shook her head, her raven-black hair brushing her shoulders. "No. The Flowlines don't feel like this. Something's wrong with them—like they're being tampered with."
Tyris raised a hand, signaling for silence. His sharp instincts screamed at him to stop moving. The hum of the Flowlines, once faint and steady, now felt loud and uneven, vibrating the air around them.
Then they heard the voice.
"So skittish," it said, smooth and venomous, carried through the trees like a whisper.
All three froze.
"Who's there?" Tyris demanded, raising his glowing blade.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Vael Dren, cloaked in tattered robes, stepped into the faint light of a nearby Flowline vein. His sunken face was partially obscured by a hood, but his piercing, corrupted yellow eyes glowed with unnatural intensity. The energy around his hands crackled like jagged lightning, pulsing with a sickly green hue.
"Ah, Abyssal Tides," Vael said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Such a disciplined clan. So reliant on structure, on rules." He tilted his head, mock curiosity in his tone. "Tell me, how do you fare when those rules... are broken?"
Mira took a step back, her dagger at the ready. "Who are you?"
Vael's grin widened, his gaunt features twisting unnaturally. "I am an artist, my dear. A visionary. And today, I've chosen you to help me... refine my work."
The Fight
Ryn acted first, lunging at Vael with his twin daggers flashing in the dim light. He moved with the speed of a predator, closing the gap in an instant.
But Vael moved faster.
With a flick of his wrist, a tendril of corrupted Flowline energy lashed out, wrapping around Ryn's arm and jerking him off balance.
"Ah, eager," Vael murmured, his voice almost bored. "But sloppy."
Before Ryn could recover, Vael twisted his hand, and the tendril slammed Ryn into the ground with bone-crushing force. A sickening crack echoed through the forest as Ryn's arm bent unnaturally beneath him.
"Ryn!" Mira screamed, running toward him.
Vael raised a hand, and another tendril shot out, striking Mira in the chest and sending her sprawling. She landed hard, coughing as the corrupted energy burned through her armor and into her skin.
"Stay back!" Tyris roared, charging forward with his sword glowing bright blue. He swung with precision, aiming for Vael's neck.
Vael blocked the strike with a jagged, crackling blade of his own, formed entirely from corrupted Flowline energy. The two weapons collided with a sharp, electric hiss, sparks flying as Vael laughed.
"Ah, the leader," Vael said, his tone dripping with mockery. "So noble. So predictable."
He shoved Tyris back with a burst of energy, sending him skidding across the dirt.
Mira struggled to her feet, clutching her side where the tendril had struck her. Her breathing was ragged, but she refused to back down.
Vael turned his glowing eyes to her, his smirk widening. "You're a Flowline-sensitive, aren't you? I can feel it. The energy sings louder around you."
Mira raised her dagger, her hands trembling. "Stay away from me."
Vael tilted his head, almost curious. "I wonder... what happens if I overload you? Will your precious gift turn to ash?"
He raised his hand, and a surge of corrupted Flowline energy pulsed toward her. Mira screamed as it struck, her body convulsing as the energy coursed through her. Her eyes widened in pain and terror as cracks of glowing light spread across her skin, like veins burning from the inside.
"Mira!" Tyris shouted, his voice breaking. He charged again, his sword swinging wildly.
Vael deflected him with ease, his focus still on Mira. "Fascinating," he murmured, watching her collapse to her knees. "But fragile. Such a shame."
Mira's body gave one last, shuddering gasp before falling limp, the glowing cracks fading as her life drained away.
Ryn, bloodied but alive, forced himself to his feet, his breathing labored. His injured arm hung useless at his side, but he raised his remaining dagger, his eyes blazing with fury.
"You bastard!" he spat, charging at Vael with everything he had left.
Vael turned to face him, his smirk twisting into something darker. "Still fighting? Admirable. But futile."
Ryn's dagger slashed toward Vael's chest, but Vael caught his wrist effortlessly, twisting it until the weapon clattered to the ground.
"You're brave," Vael said, almost wistfully. "But bravery without power is... meaningless."
With a sharp burst of energy, Vael drove his hand into Ryn's chest. The corrupted Flowline energy surged through Ryn's body, and his scream echoed through the forest as the light left his eyes.
Vael let the body fall, turning his attention back to Tyris.
Tyris's Despair
Tyris stood frozen, his chest heaving as he stared at the lifeless bodies of his teammates. Mira's fragile form lay crumpled in the dirt, her once-bright eyes dull. Ryn's body still twitched faintly, the aftershocks of the corrupted energy coursing through him.
"You monster," Tyris whispered, his voice shaking with rage and grief.
Vael smiled, his glowing eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Monster? No. I'm merely... enlightened."
Tyris raised his sword, but Vael stepped back into the shadows, his figure dissolving into smoke. "Another time, perhaps," Vael's voice echoed, disembodied. "You'll see me again, boy. And when you do, bring your best."
The forest fell silent, save for the distant hum of the Flowlines.
Tyris dropped his sword, his knees hitting the dirt as his shoulders shook. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the bodies of his fallen teammates.
"I should've... I should've protected you," he choked out, his voice barely audible.
The once-confident leader was now a broken man, his grief and guilt weighing heavier than his armor. He buried his face in his hands, his sobs echoing through the Bastion as the forest seemed to watch, unfeeling.
Eron's Encounter
Elsewhere in the Bastion, Eron's team pressed on, the forest growing darker and colder. The hum of the Flowlines seemed more erratic now, vibrating like an offbeat drum.
"We're going in circles," Sarina muttered, glaring at Kieran. "I'm telling you, we passed that tree before."
"That's impossible," Kieran said. "I've been following the currents exactly."
"Then explain why we're—" Sarina stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening.
A massive creature emerged from the shadows ahead, its hulking frame covered in jagged black armor that seemed to grow from its body. Its glowing red eyes locked onto them, and a guttural growl rumbled deep in its throat.
"A Duskbound," Kieran said, his voice low.
"What's a Duskbound?" Sarina asked, her voice trembling.
"An official trial challenge," Eron replied, stepping forward. "Part of the test."
The creature roared, its massive claws digging into the ground as it charged.
"Stay together!" Kieran shouted, raising his sword.
Eron's eyes narrowed as he focused on the Flowlines beneath the ground, preparing to counter the attack.
The forest erupted into chaos as the Duskbound lunged at the team, its claws tearing through the air.
The Trials weren't just a test of skill—they were a battle for survival.