"I am Darien," he finally said, his voice carrying an unnatural resonance that sent chills down their spines. "And I know the path you walk." He tilted his head slightly, the folds of his cloak shifting like restless shadows. "You seek the Dark Warlock. A dangerous endeavor… unless you have something of equal value to offer."
Andrei stepped forward, his face set in determination. "We'll pay whatever price it takes."
Darien's laughter rang out, hollow and sharp, as though it echoed from the trees themselves. "Bold words from someone who carries the scent of fading power. Tell me, Andrei—how does it feel to walk as a mortal again?"
Andrei's jaw tightened, but he refused to back down. "You clearly know who I am. You also know why we're here. Do you intend to help us or waste our time?"
"Help?" Darien's grin widened, revealing sharp, unnaturally white teeth. "Perhaps. But first, I want to see if your group is worth aiding. The Dark Warlock is not someone who accepts mediocrity."
Before anyone could respond, Darien raised a hand, and the forest erupted into chaos. The ground trembled as vines writhed and twisted, and the trees seemed to shift closer, their gnarled roots clawing at the earth like desperate hands.
"Prove your strength," Darien hissed. "Face what lies within yourselves. Only then will you earn the right to proceed."
The world around them blurred and fragmented, each of them suddenly isolated in a pocket of darkness. The forest's whispers grew louder, more insistent, shaping into voices they recognized.
Mathea found herself standing in a shadowy hall, its walls lined with mirrors. In each reflection, she saw versions of herself—broken, defeated, powerless.
"Who are you without the crown?" a voice echoed, deep and mocking.
She clenched her fists. "I am more than my bloodline. More than the Witch Kingdom."
Jea and Athena looked at each other.
The reflections sneered back, their voices overlapping in a cacophony. "But are you strong enough to lead? Or will you falter like your father?"
Mathea raised her torch, smashing the nearest mirror. "I decide who I am!"
The remaining reflections shattered, and the darkness around her began to recede.
Andrei stood in the heart of the forest, surrounded by shadows shaped like faceless figures. Each one whispered a single word: Failure.
"You had it all," one shadow hissed. "And now you're nothing."
Andrei's hand burned where the tree had scorched him earlier. He could still feel the void left by his lost magic.
"I am not nothing," he growled. "Power doesn't define me."
The shadows surged forward, but he stood his ground. With a single step, they dissolved into mist, leaving him alone once more.
Athena's world became a labyrinth of skeletal trees, their branches forming a cage around her. She heard the screams of her comrades, saw their blood staining the ground.
"You can't protect them," a voice whispered, cold and cruel. "You never could."
Tears burned in her eyes, but she forced herself to move forward, breaking through the brambles with sheer determination. "I will protect them. No matter what it takes."
As she reached the edge of the labyrinth, the screams faded, and a faint light guided her forward.
One by one, they emerged from their trials, shaken but alive. The forest seemed quieter now, its oppressive darkness slightly lifted. Darien stood waiting, his grin returning as he clapped slowly.
"Well done," he said. "You may proceed."
Mathea narrowed her eyes. "And where exactly do we go from here?"
Darien gestured to a narrow, winding path that seemed to lead deeper into the forest. "Follow this trail to the Warlock's domain. But be warned—surviving your fears was only the first step. The true test lies ahead."
With that, he dissolved into shadows, leaving the group alone once more.
"Well, that was easy," Juan muttered with ease but stopped when Jea frowned at him.
Andrei exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Let's move."
As they started down the path, the weight of Darien's words hung over them. Whatever awaited them ahead, it would demand more than just courage—it would demand sacrifice.
The trail stretched before them like a gash in the earth, winding deeper into the heart of the forest.
Mathea took the lead, her torch casting a frail circle of light. "Stay close," she said, her voice firm but quiet. "This isn't a place to wander."
Athena scoffed, her grip tight on her blade. "Wander? As if this cursed forest gives anyone a choice."
Jea placed a hand on Athena's shoulder. "Focus. Sarcasm won't save us."
Andrei, walking beside Mathea, stole a glance at her. His earlier trial had left him thoughtful, his usual confident demeanor subdued. "Do you trust this Warlock?" he asked under his breath.
Mathea didn't look at him. "I don't trust anyone who deals in shadows and secrets. But he's our only lead to Lord Anjo."
"And what's the plan if this goes south?" Andrei pressed.
"We survive," she replied simply.
After hours of walking, the forest opened into a clearing bathed in an unnatural green glow. In the center stood a crumbling stone tower, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. Twisted vines crawled up its walls, and a faint hum filled the air—a sound that vibrated through their bones.
"This must be it," Juan said, his voice tinged with awe and unease.
"Brilliant observation," Athena muttered. "Anyone else feel like we're walking into a trap?"
"Keep your wits about you," Mathea said, ignoring Athena's complaint. She adjusted her grip on the torch. "Andrei, you're up."
Andrei hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. The weight of their mission bore down on him as he approached the tower door, its dark wood warped and split with age. Before he could knock, the door creaked open, revealing nothing but a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
"Great," Jea muttered. "Basements. Nothing bad ever happens in basements."
Mathea motioned for them to follow. "Stay together. And don't touch anything unless absolutely necessary."
The staircase led to a vast underground chamber lit by a strange blue-green fire that burned in suspended orbs. The walls were covered in shelves overflowing with jars of strange substances—eyes that blinked, roots that squirmed, and liquids that seemed to hiss when touched by the light.
At the center of the room stood a figure clad in tattered black robes. His back was turned to them, his hands moving with surgical precision over an intricate array of sigils on a stone altar.
"So, the travelers have arrived," the Warlock said without turning. His voice was smooth, cold, and devoid of emotion. "What do you seek that brings you to my domain?"
Mathea stepped forward, her chin high. "We seek the truth about Lord Anjo and the power he wields. We were told you know the answers."
The Warlock turned slowly, his face hidden beneath a deep hood. "And why should I share such knowledge with you? Do you have any idea what the cost of such truths might be?"
"We'll pay," Andrei said firmly. "Whatever it takes."