Sylas pushed deeper into the jungle, the heavy air pressing against him like a physical weight. The lush canopy above filtered the light into faint streaks, and the shadows seemed alive, shifting and twisting as he moved.
The jungle was no longer just a place—it felt sentient, aware of his every step. The mark on his hand pulsed faintly, guiding him forward like a compass. The whispers in his mind had grown quieter, their cryptic words fading into occasional fragments.
But one thing was clear: the challenges ahead were unlike anything he had faced before.
Hours of trekking brought him to a massive gorge, its steep cliffs lined with jagged rocks and cascading vines. At the bottom, he could make out a shallow river, its waters glowing faintly with an eerie blue light.
The mark on his hand flared, and the whispers returned, faint and disjointed:
"Cross… the… divide… danger… below."
Sylas scanned the area, his eyes narrowing. The gorge stretched for miles in either direction, and the only way across was a narrow rope bridge that swayed precariously in the wind.
"Of course," he muttered, gripping the sword strapped to his back.
The bridge creaked and groaned as Sylas stepped onto it, his boots testing the worn planks. Each step sent a shiver through the fragile structure, but he pressed on, keeping his focus on the other side.
Halfway across, the whispers in his mind grew louder, their tone urgent.
"Move quickly… they are coming."
The first sign of danger was a low growl echoing from the shadows below. Sylas stopped, gripping the ropes of the bridge tightly as he looked down.
From the glowing waters of the river, dark shapes began to emerge. They were long and serpentine, their bodies shimmering like oil under the faint light. Dozens of glowing eyes stared up at him, unblinking and hungry.
"Great," Sylas muttered. "That's exactly what I needed."
The creatures began to slither up the sides of the gorge, their movements unnervingly fast.
Sylas sprinted across the bridge, the planks creaking and snapping under his weight. The mark on his hand flared brightly, and the whispers urged him onward.
"Faster… do not stop."
The creatures reached the bridge just as Sylas leaped onto solid ground. He turned, sword drawn, as the first of them slithered onto the planks.
The creature was massive, its body covered in scales that gleamed with a sickly iridescence. Its head was crowned with jagged horns, and its glowing eyes burned with malevolent intelligence.
Sylas didn't wait for it to attack. He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air.
The creature dodged with surprising agility, its tail whipping toward him in a blur. Sylas barely had time to block, the impact sending him staggering back.
The fight was brutal. More creatures climbed onto the bridge, their hissing cries echoing through the gorge. Sylas fought with everything he had, his sword flashing as he parried and struck.
Each kill sent a surge of energy through him, the mark on his hand glowing brighter with every victory. But the creatures kept coming, their numbers overwhelming.
Sylas's breathing grew ragged, his muscles screaming in protest. He glanced at the far end of the bridge, where the remaining creatures were gathering.
I need to end this now, he thought, his grip tightening on his sword.
The mark on his hand pulsed violently, and a sudden burst of clarity filled his mind. The whispers returned, their tone commanding:
"Strike the anchor. Collapse the bridge."
Sylas hesitated for only a moment before sprinting toward the nearest support. The creatures hissed and lunged, but he dodged their attacks, his blade slicing through ropes and planks.
The bridge shuddered as the first anchor gave way, and Sylas didn't stop. He moved to the other side, his sword cutting through the remaining supports.
With a deafening crack, the bridge collapsed, taking the creatures with it. Their hissing cries echoed as they plummeted into the glowing river below.
Sylas fell to his knees, his chest heaving. The whispers in his mind faded, replaced by an eerie silence.
The jungle seemed to hold its breath as Sylas stood, his sword glowing faintly at his side. The mark on his hand pulsed softly, guiding him once more.
He turned away from the gorge and continued into the jungle, his senses on high alert.
The Trial was far from over, and he could feel the weight of the challenges yet to come. But for now, he had survived.
And survival was the only victory that mattered.
The jungle had tested him again, forcing him to confront dangers both physical and mental. But with each battle, Sylas grew stronger, more attuned to the world around him. And with every step, he drew closer to the truth of the Trial and the power it promised.