Drakar's body ached as he followed Taronis down the winding path away from Hollow Ridge. The cool morning air did little to ease the burn in his muscles, but the shards of volcanic glass in his pouch were a reminder of his triumph. His steps felt heavy, but his resolve was steady.
Taronis walked with a steady, deliberate pace, his silence thoughtful yet reassuring. When they reached a small clearing, he finally spoke. "You've won your first battle, but victory can sow arrogance as easily as it builds strength. What did you learn?"
Drakar wiped the sweat from his brow. The memory of the Aurenbeast's molten gaze flashed in his mind. "That raw strength isn't enough. The mind must be as sharp as the blade."
Taronis nodded approvingly. "Good. Remember that. The challenges ahead will not just test your endurance but your soul."
They resumed their walk, the trees around them thickening into a dense canopy. Soon, they came upon an ancient stone bridge stretched over a mist-filled ravine. The carvings along the edges depicted great beasts—serpents with wings like storms and tails of flame. Though weathered by time, the craftsmanship still felt alive.
Drakar slowed as he neared the bridge, his eyes drawn to the shifting mist below. Tendrils of fog curled upward, reaching like spectral hands.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"The Veil's Divide," Taronis replied, his voice reverent. "Beyond it lies the domain of beings unlike us. Some may speak in riddles. Others may not speak at all."
Drakar's eyes narrowed. "And if they attack?"
Taronis glanced at him. "Then you'll understand that some battles are won before the blade is drawn."
The bridge groaned beneath their feet as they stepped onto it. The ancient stones seemed to whisper beneath their weight, as though recalling countless journeys and forgotten tragedies. Halfway across, the mist thickened, swirling into strange shapes.
The air grew dense with murmurs—soft, fleeting fragments of sound that tugged at the edges of Drakar's mind.
Drakar's pulse quickened. "What is that sound?"
Taronis's expression darkened. "The Murkwraiths. Echoes of those who strayed too far from their purpose."
Drakar tensed as the shadows in the mist took form—elongated figures with hollow eyes, their limbs stretching unnaturally.
"They feed on fear," Taronis warned. "Steady yourself. If your will wavers, they will drag you down."
Drakar forced himself to breathe slowly, grounding himself with each step. He focused on the feel of the stone beneath his boots, the cool air brushing his face. The shadows drifted closer but did not touch him.
The murmurs swelled, brushing against his thoughts like a cold whisper. Images flared in his mind—his village's training ground, Roghar's mocking laughter, the cold, lonely nights after failure.
You're weak... you'll never become more...
"No." Drakar's voice was firm, slicing through the whispers. "I am more."
The shadows hesitated, their hollow eyes blinking slowly.
Taronis's voice cut through the fog like steel. "Your will is your shield, Drakar. Wield it."
With a deep breath, Drakar steadied his mind, filling it with the memory of his vow beneath the stars. The shadows began to dissolve, their elongated limbs fading into the mist. The murmurs grew softer until they were no more than a distant echo.
When they reached the other side of the bridge, the mist finally broke, revealing a grove of towering silver-barked trees. The light that filtered through their branches glowed like fragments of the dawn.
Drakar exhaled slowly. "I'm still here."
Taronis gave a rare, faint smile. "And that is what matters."
They pressed forward into the grove, where the air hummed with energy and the ground shimmered with soft hues of blue and silver. Drakar felt the weight of the experience lift, but something lingered—a quiet reminder that not all battles could be fought with steel.
As the last wisps of mist faded behind them, Drakar straightened his shoulders. His first true victory wasn't over the Aurenbeast. It was over the whispers that sought to unravel him.