The clash of metal and claws filled the forest with a dissonant symphony. Shadows leapt between trees, their movements erratic yet coordinated, like predators testing their prey's limits. Kael's blade met one of them mid-lunge, sparks dancing as steel scraped bone-like talons. The creature recoiled, but another replaced it instantly.
Aelira fought like a whirlwind, her footwork flawless, each strike calculated to kill. Beside Kael, Lin moved with grace, using speed and precision over brute force. Still, their enemies were relentless—twisted beings shaped by ancient dark arts, neither alive nor fully dead.
Kael's breathing grew heavier. His arm throbbed, the sigil pulsing as if calling out to be unleashed. The power stirred beneath his skin, whispering promises of dominance, of control. But he hesitated.
Not yet.
He ducked a sweeping claw, countering with a sharp upward slash that cleaved the creature from chin to brow. Black ichor sprayed the leaves, sizzling where it landed.
Aelira barked a warning. "Behind you!"
Kael spun just in time, raising a hand to block the incoming blow. His palm lit with a crimson glow—unintentional, uncontrolled. A wave of force blasted the creature backward, crushing it against a tree.
Kael blinked. He hadn't meant to use that.
The sigil on his arm had acted on instinct.
He looked at Lin. She had noticed. Her expression was unreadable, but he caught the flicker of concern in her eyes.
"Kael, that energy—" she began.
"I know," he said. "It's changing."
The remaining beasts shrieked in frustration. One of them—taller than the others, with a jagged crown of bone along its skull—stepped forward. Unlike the rest, it did not charge. It studied them, lips peeling back to reveal needle-like teeth.
Then it spoke.
"You are not ready for the path you've chosen, Pactbearer."
Kael stiffened. "Who sent you?"
The creature chuckled. "You woke something older than you can comprehend. The Veiled Court watches now. And they do not tolerate imbalance."
Aelira took a step forward, sword raised. "Speak clearly, beast. Or choke on your riddles."
But the creature did not flinch. It raised a clawed hand and made a single gesture. The other shadows backed away, disappearing into the trees like smoke.
"You'll see the price soon enough," it hissed. "When blood runs down the mountain and the stars fall black. The Veil is thinning, and your power… will tear it open."
With that, it vanished in a swirl of darkness.
Silence returned to the forest, but it was heavy, unnatural—like the world itself was holding its breath.
Kael sheathed his blade slowly. "The Veiled Court… Who are they?"
Aelira looked grim. "Legends. Ghosts of a forgotten pact between realms. If they're real, we may be dealing with something far worse than corrupted beasts."
Lin approached, gently touching his arm. "You lost control, Kael. Even for a second. That power—it's trying to take root in you."
He nodded. "I felt it. It wasn't like before. It wanted to act. To protect… but also to destroy."
"Then you need to master it," Aelira said firmly. "Now. Before it masters you."
They continued south, the sun dipping lower as the trees began to thin. Aelira led them toward the hidden refuge she'd mentioned—a shrine, abandoned and cloaked in magic, built long ago by spiritwalkers. The journey was tense, each rustling leaf putting them on edge.
By nightfall, they arrived. The shrine was little more than stone ruins overgrown with vines, but the wards around it were intact. Aelira activated a sigil at the entrance, revealing a hidden stairwell descending underground.
"Here," she said. "You'll train here. Rest here. And prepare for what comes next."
As Kael stepped into the shrine's inner sanctum, he could feel it—the raw energy in the walls, the quiet hum of ancient power still lingering. He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the Pactbearer sigil glowing faintly beneath his skin.
"Show me the truth," he whispered.
"Show me what I've become."
The chamber responded.
Visions flared before his eyes—mountains ablaze, armies clashing, gods descending from burning skies. He saw himself, a silhouette of flame and shadow, standing at the heart of the storm.
And in the distance…
A throne of black stone.
A figure waiting.
Crowned in twilight.