The clearing disappeared behind them as the trio pressed deeper into the forest. The ground grew slick and uneven, and the faint glow of the vial inside Caelum's satchel was the only light cutting through the suffocating darkness. Each step seemed heavier than the last, as if the air itself were resisting their progress.
Amara leaned against a tree, her face pale, her hand still clutching the wound on her arm. Finnick hovered nearby, glancing nervously into the shadows.
"We need to stop," Caelum said, his voice trembling with concern. "Amara, you're losing too much blood."
"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth, though her knees wavered as she pushed herself off the tree.
"You're not," Finnick retorted, his usual sarcasm replaced by rare seriousness. "We can't outrun that thing if you collapse."
Caelum hesitated before crouching and rummaging through his satchel. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the vial, its pulse faint but steady. He pushed it aside, retrieving a small cloth and a vial of clear liquid. "Let me see your arm."
Amara opened her mouth to argue, but Finnick cut her off. "Just let him help, for once."
She relented, holding out her arm. The wound was deep, jagged, and oozing blood that glistened faintly under the vial's light. Caelum winced but didn't hesitate, pouring the liquid over the injury.
Amara hissed in pain, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. "Is this necessary?"
"Unless you want an infection to kill you before the Veil does," Caelum muttered, wrapping the cloth tightly around her arm.
Finnick paced nearby, his dagger drawn. "How do we even fight something like that? It was like… like smoke that wanted to tear us apart."
Amara flexed her fingers, testing the makeshift bandage. "We don't fight it. We survive it."
"That's comforting," Finnick muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.
Caelum tied off the bandage and stood, his gaze distant. "The Forgotten called it a shadow of the Veil. It's not just a creature—it's part of the Veil itself."
"So how do you kill a piece of the Veil?" Finnick asked, his tone edged with frustration.
"I don't know," Caelum admitted. "But the vial… it reacted to the shadow. Maybe it's the key."
Amara straightened, her exhaustion replaced by determination. "Then we need to figure out how to use it. Fast."
The trio resumed their trek, their movements cautious and deliberate. The forest felt alive around them, every creak of the branches and rustle of the leaves sending chills down their spines.
Hours seemed to pass in a blur of tension and silence, until they emerged into another clearing. This one was different. The trees here grew in a perfect circle, their trunks smooth and white, their branches interwoven to form a canopy that filtered the moonlight into a silvery glow.
At the center of the clearing stood a stone altar, its surface engraved with intricate runes that seemed to shift and shimmer as they approached.
"This is it," Caelum said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amara frowned. "How do you know?"
He hesitated, unable to explain the pull he felt toward the altar. It was the same feeling that had led him to the vial in the first place—a magnetic force that seemed to hum in his very bones.
Finnick eyed the altar warily. "Well, this doesn't scream 'trap' at all."
Ignoring him, Caelum stepped forward, the vial in his hand beginning to glow brighter. The runes on the altar responded, their light intensifying as he approached.
"Wait," Amara said, her voice sharp. "We don't know what will happen if—"
Before she could finish, the vial pulsed, its glow so bright that the clearing was bathed in silver light. The ground beneath them trembled, and the runes on the altar erupted into flames of pale blue.
Caelum froze, the vial vibrating in his hand. The light seemed to seep into the runes, illuminating a pattern that formed a series of concentric circles.
And then he heard it.
A voice—soft, melodic, and ancient—whispered in his mind.
"Bearer of the Spark. Keeper of the Veil. Do you seek the truth, or do you seek power?"
Caelum's breath caught in his throat. He glanced at Amara and Finnick, but they showed no signs of hearing the voice.
"I… I seek both," he said aloud, his voice trembling.
The voice responded, its tone neither approving nor condemning. "Then prove your worth."
The ground beneath the altar split open, revealing a dark chasm that seemed to stretch endlessly downward. From the depths, a figure began to rise—a humanoid shape cloaked in shadow, its features obscured but its presence overwhelming.
Finnick stumbled back, his dagger trembling in his hand. "What… what is that?"
"The test," Amara said, drawing her sword despite the fear in her eyes.
The shadow figure stepped forward, its movements fluid and unnatural. Its voice echoed in the clearing, a deep, resonant tone that seemed to bypass their ears and go straight to their souls.
"You have entered sacred ground," it said. "The Veil demands its price. Will you pay it?"
Caelum tightened his grip on the vial, his heart racing. "What price?"
The figure extended a shadowy hand, its fingers long and clawed. "Your fear. Your doubt. Your weakness. Surrender them, and you may proceed."
Finnick scoffed. "Oh, is that all? Sure, let me just hand over my childhood trauma while I'm at it."
Amara shot him a warning glare. "Finnick. Quiet."
Caelum took a step forward, his gaze locked on the figure. "And if I refuse?"
The shadow's hand clenched into a fist, and the air around them grew heavy. "Then you will face your own darkness."
The words sent a chill through Caelum's spine, but he refused to back down. He glanced at Amara and Finnick, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty.
He turned back to the shadow and took another step forward. "I'll pay the price. But I won't surrender who I am."
The figure tilted its head, as if considering his words. The runes on the altar flared, the light intensifying until it was almost blinding.
"Then let the trial begin."
The shadow lunged.