The jungle's oppressive heat returned as Sylas emerged from the temple, the faint glow of the repaired seal still etched in his memory. The encounter with the First Unbound weighed heavily on him. Every step forward felt like he was walking deeper into a labyrinth of secrets and lies.
The whispers in his mind had grown silent again, leaving him alone with his thoughts. What did the Unbound mean by being imprisoned? Who created the seal, and why? Sylas clenched his fists. The Trial was supposed to test strength, but it seemed more like a battlefield for powers far beyond his understanding.
As he ventured further, the jungle began to change. The dense vegetation thinned, replaced by towering blackened trees, their bark charred as if by fire. The air smelled of ash, and the ground beneath him was cracked and dry.
Sylas paused, scanning his surroundings. A faint sound reached his ears—a rhythmic clinking, like metal striking stone. He tightened his grip on his sword and moved cautiously toward the noise.
The source of the sound revealed itself soon enough. In a clearing, a figure stood hunched over, chiseling at a large boulder. They were clad in ragged robes, their features obscured by a hood. The boulder bore strange carvings, similar to the ones Sylas had seen on the bridge earlier.
Sylas approached slowly, his instincts on high alert. "Who are you?" he called out.
The figure froze, the chisel in their hand falling to the ground. Slowly, they turned to face him, revealing a gaunt face with hollow eyes that seemed to glow faintly.
"You… should not be here," the figure said, their voice raspy and hollow. "This place is not for the living."
Sylas frowned, his sword raised slightly. "I'm part of the Trial. If you're another challenge, just say so."
The figure let out a dry, humorless laugh. "The Trial… A farce for the unknowing. You tread where gods have fallen, and yet you think yourself worthy?"
Sylas stepped closer, his patience thinning. "If you have answers, then start talking. What are these seals? What is the Trial really for?"
The figure tilted their head, their hollow eyes narrowing. "The Trial… is not for you. It is for them."
Before Sylas could ask who "them" referred to, the ground beneath the figure erupted. Black tendrils, similar to those of the First Unbound, shot out and wrapped around the robed figure, pulling them into the earth.
Sylas lunged forward, but it was too late. The ground sealed itself as if nothing had happened. The clearing was silent once more, save for the faint hum of energy in the air.
Sylas cursed under his breath, his frustration mounting. Every encounter left him with more questions than answers. The mark on his hand flared faintly, the whispers returning, though their tone was subdued:
"The path must remain shrouded. The truth would break you now."
"I'm tired of half-truths and riddles," Sylas muttered. "If there's something I need to know, just tell me."
The whispers did not respond, their silence more infuriating than their cryptic guidance.
Sighing, Sylas pressed on. The charred forest seemed endless, its dark, gnarled trees twisting into unnatural shapes. The air grew colder, and the faint sound of rushing water reached his ears.
As he pushed through the last line of trees, Sylas came upon a wide river, its waters black and shimmering like oil. A stone bridge spanned the river, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
At the center of the bridge stood a woman clad in armor, her crimson cape billowing in the breeze. Her helmet obscured her face, but the aura of authority around her was unmistakable.
Sylas approached cautiously, the tension in the air palpable. "Who are you?" he called out.
The woman turned slowly, removing her helmet to reveal striking features—a sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and hair as dark as the river below. She studied Sylas with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
"I am Kara, Keeper of the Second Gate," she said, her voice strong and unwavering. "You've made it farther than most, but your journey ends here."
Sylas raised his sword, his heart pounding. "I've heard that before. If you're here to stop me, then let's get it over with."
Kara smirked, drawing a massive halberd from her back. Its blade shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light.
"You misunderstand," she said. "This is not a battle you can win. But if you insist, I will show you the futility of defiance."
Kara moved with blinding speed, her halberd a blur as it sliced through the air. Sylas barely managed to parry the strike, the force of the blow sending him stumbling backward.
She didn't relent, following up with a series of strikes that forced Sylas to stay on the defensive. Her strength and precision were overwhelming, and it was clear she wasn't holding back.
The whispers in Sylas's mind were frantic:
"She is bound to the Trial, a fragment of the past. You must endure. Look for her weakness."
Sylas gritted his teeth, focusing on Kara's movements. Her attacks were relentless, but there was a rhythm to them—a slight hesitation before each swing.
Taking a gamble, Sylas feinted to the left, drawing Kara's halberd wide. He ducked under the strike and lunged forward, his sword aimed at her unprotected side.
Kara twisted away at the last moment, his blade grazing her armor. She smirked, a glint of approval in her eyes.
"You're better than I expected," she said, stepping back. "But this is far from over."
The runes on the bridge began to glow brighter, their energy surging into Kara's weapon. Her halberd radiated a fiery light, and she raised it high, the air around her shimmering with power.
Sylas braced himself, his heart pounding as he prepared for the next round.
The Keeper of the Second Gate stood as an insurmountable wall before Sylas, her power undeniable. Yet, for every foe he faced, Sylas grew stronger—and the secrets of the Trial came closer to unraveling.