The jungle seemed alive as Sylas ventured deeper, its atmosphere shifting with every step. The vibrant greenery of the outer layers had given way to a haunting stillness. The trees stood taller, their twisted trunks resembling frozen sentinels, their shadows stretching unnaturally across the path.
The mark on Sylas's hand burned faintly, guiding him toward the unknown. Despite the unsettling environment, he pressed on, his grip on his sword firm. The shard he had absorbed at the ruins still pulsed within him, its energy foreign yet familiar.
As he climbed over a moss-covered ridge, Sylas froze. Ahead lay a massive chasm, its depths shrouded in impenetrable darkness. A narrow bridge of ancient, crumbling stone spanned the gap, its edges lined with faintly glowing runes.
"Cross… and remember," the whispers urged, their tone heavy with meaning.
Sylas approached the bridge cautiously, his boots crunching softly on the loose gravel. The runes on the bridge flickered as he stepped onto it, the faint light illuminating carvings along its surface.
The carvings told a story. They depicted battles between towering figures, their forms otherworldly and majestic. Armies clashed beneath them, the skies filled with fire and lightning.
Sylas paused, running his fingers over one of the carvings. The figures seemed oddly familiar, as though he had seen them before in a dream—or a memory.
Before he could linger further, the ground beneath his feet trembled. A low growl echoed from the depths of the chasm, followed by the sound of something massive shifting in the darkness below.
Sylas tensed, his eyes scanning the abyss. From the shadows emerged a serpentine figure, its massive body coiled and covered in obsidian scales. Glowing yellow eyes locked onto him, and the creature hissed, its voice resonating with an eerie, melodic tone.
"Another one dares to disturb the silence. You are unworthy of the path ahead."
The serpent lunged, its jaws snapping inches away from Sylas as he leapt back. The bridge shuddered under the impact, cracks spreading along its surface.
"Guess I'll have to prove myself," Sylas muttered, readying his sword.
The serpent struck again, its movements impossibly fast for its size. Sylas dodged, rolling to the side as its tail whipped toward him. The force of the attack sent debris flying, but Sylas stayed on his feet, his mind racing.
The creature was unlike anything he'd faced before. Its scales deflected his initial strikes, and its sheer size made it difficult to approach.
The mark on his hand flared, and the whispers returned, their tone sharp:
"Strike its eyes… blind the beast."
Sylas nodded, gripping his sword tightly. As the serpent lunged again, he sidestepped its attack and sprinted along its side, aiming for its glowing yellow eye.
The serpent hissed in fury as Sylas's blade struck true, the glow in one of its eyes dimming. The creature recoiled, its massive body thrashing wildly. The bridge groaned under the strain, chunks of stone crumbling into the abyss.
Sylas didn't let up. He leapt onto the serpent's back, using the grooves between its scales to climb higher. The creature roared, twisting violently to shake him off, but Sylas held firm.
With a powerful strike, he drove his sword into its other eye. The serpent let out a deafening scream, its body convulsing as it blindly lashed out.
The mark on Sylas's hand burned brighter, and the whispers returned, their tone commanding:
"Now… the core."
Sylas spotted the core at the base of the serpent's neck—a glowing, pulsating mass of energy. He leapt from the creature's back, landing near the core and driving his sword into it with all his strength.
The serpent's body convulsed one final time before collapsing, its massive form disintegrating into ash. The bridge steadied, the runes glowing brighter in the aftermath of the battle.
Sylas stood amidst the ashes, his breathing heavy. The shard he had absorbed pulsed faintly, resonating with the mark on his hand.
At the center of the bridge, a new orb appeared, its light soft and inviting.
The whispers spoke again, their tone reverent:
"You have earned another fragment. Claim it and remember."
Sylas approached the orb, his steps cautious. He reached out, letting the energy flow into him.
The moment he touched the orb, a flood of visions overtook him. He saw towering figures—the same ones from the carvings—standing atop mountains as they shaped the world with their power. He saw cities rise and fall, civilizations erased by unseen forces.
And he saw a war.
The figures fought each other, their power tearing the land apart. In the chaos, a great seal was created, locking something—or someone—away.
When the visions ended, Sylas staggered, clutching his head. The whispers in his mind were clearer now, their tone heavy with warning:
"You are part of this story. The seal must not break."
Sylas steadied himself, the weight of the visions pressing heavily on his mind. The Trial was revealing more than he had anticipated, and the stakes were becoming painfully clear.
With the orb's power coursing through him, he turned and continued across the bridge.
The jungle awaited him, its secrets darker and more dangerous than ever.
The serpent had fallen, but the echoes of the past lingered. Sylas's journey was unraveling a story older than the jungle itself, one that would shape not only his fate but the fate of the world.