The path was narrow and dark. Roots hung low. The deeper they went, the harder it was to breathe. The air smelled of wet stone and something old, like burnt paper and ash.
Rye led the way, sword still glowing faintly. Her boots crushed leaves and bone. The others followed in silence.
They didn't talk about the rift behind them. Or the twisted beasts. Or the dead soldiers.
They just walked.
After several minutes, the tunnel opened.
A huge chamber stretched out before them. Stone walls curved high above, lined with glowing marks that pulsed blue. In the center stood a round platform with a raised pedestal, covered in dust and strange carvings.
"What is this place?" Jor asked, voice low.
"A ruin," Maeron said. "Virelyan, by the look of it. Long before Kaelthar or Aeloria built anything like this."
Rye stepped forward. The sword in her hand pulsed brighter with each step.
"Someone brought us here on purpose," she said.
Suddenly, the entrance behind them slammed shut. The sound echoed like a hammer in a well. Everyone jumped.
"What—" Eris spun around, blades out. "Where's the way back?"
"There is none," Maeron said. "Look."
The walls began to move.
Stone panels slid aside. Four massive shapes stepped out. Not men. Not beasts.
Statues.
But alive.
Each one stood ten feet tall, made of stone and glowing metal, with eyes like burning stars. They raised long spears and took one step forward.
"Back," Jor said, raising his axe.
The sword in Rye's hand dimmed.
Then, a voice filled their heads.
"This is the Trial of the Veil. Only the worthy may walk between the worlds. Do not fight. Prove yourselves."
"Who said that?" Rye asked.
"No one," Maeron whispered. "It was in my head."
"Four trials. Four paths. One truth. You may not stay together."
The ground rumbled.
The floor beneath them cracked and shifted. The platform broke apart. The stone split, creating four paths, each one leading in a different direction.
Rye tried to step back, but the stone beneath her feet moved like a puzzle. She slid across the floor, down a tunnel that sealed behind her.
She was alone.
No sword glow.
No voices.
No friends.
Just stone and silence.
The tunnel she landed in was wide, but narrow enough to feel like a trap. The walls glowed faint red. Ahead, the floor was covered in sand. In the center stood a mirror.
Rye stepped closer, breathing hard. Her sword felt heavy again. Dead weight.
The mirror shimmered.
She looked into it.
And saw herself.
But not her as she was.
Her reflection was clean, strong, proud. Her armor was whole. Her eyes burned red like the sword's glow. Her movements were perfect. Fast. Deadly.
Not me, she thought. Not really.
The reflection moved closer to the glass.
Then it stepped out.
Rye jumped back.
The fake her raised a glowing sword, same shape, same crackle of red light—but wielded like it belonged.
It attacked.
Rye blocked the first swing. Barely.
She stumbled. The weight of her sword slowed her down.
The fake swung again, faster.
Clang. Slash. Block. Dodge.
Every move the mirror-Rye made was clean and precise.
Rye's arms ached. Her breath came fast.
"You're not me," she spat.
The mirror-Rye smiled.
And whispered: "But I should have been."
Rage burned in Rye's chest.
She pushed forward, swinging wide. The fake blocked it, but she didn't back down.
Rye roared, stepped in, and slammed her hilt into the fake's jaw.
The reflection flickered.
She followed it with a hard slash across the chest.
The mirror-Rye broke apart, shards of light crashing to the floor.
Her sword lit up again. Stronger.
The voice returned.
"First truth: To win, you must face yourself."
The wall ahead slid open.
Meanwhile, in another chamber, Maeron stared at a mural carved deep into stone. It showed a tall beast—Veyruun in shape, but kneeling, not hunting. Around it were humans. Not fighting. Sitting in peace.
"They were guardians," he whispered.
The mural changed with light. It told a story.
A circle of worlds. A hidden realm in the center. Magic flowing between them. And a group of tall, robed figures—Virelyans—watching from above.
Then came a crack. A tear.
The Veil.
A war.
And finally, a sword, glowing red, piercing a gate.
The same sword Rye now held.
Maeron reached out, hand shaking.
"Second truth: What is broken can be made whole, but only through pain."
His chamber opened.
Jor's trial was simple.
A beast.
Twice his size. Pure muscle. No armor. No mercy.
Jor didn't ask questions. He just fought.
It was brutal. He lost his axe. Broke his arm. Bit down on his own scream.
But in the end, he stabbed the beast in the neck with a broken blade.
"Third truth: Strength is not the weapon. It is the reason to use it."
His path opened.
Eris faced her dead sister.
Not real, but close enough.
She didn't fight her.
She just forgave her.
"Fourth truth: To move forward, you must let go."
The four paths met again.
Rye stepped out first, sword humming bright red, but calm.
The others followed.
No one spoke at first.
Then Rye looked ahead.
A tall figure stood in the center of the new chamber, white coat glowing under the soft blue light.
"Elian," she said.
He nodded once.
"You're late," he said. "The Concord is already here."
•••
"Elian, where are you taking us?" Rye asked.
Elian didn't answer. He pressed his hand against a glowing stone on the wall. It hummed, then slid open.
Behind it, a dark tunnel.
He looked back at them. "Stay close."
They stepped in, one by one. The stone wall shut behind them.
Then the floor disappeared.
Rye barely had time to scream. The ground fell away like a trap, and they dropped.
Hard.
She hit something cold, rolled, and slammed into Maeron. Jor landed with a grunt nearby. Eris cursed. Elian dropped last, landing on his feet like it was planned.
"What just happened?!" Maeron shouted, coughing.
"We're in," Elian said, standing straight. "Move fast. The Concord will know we're here."
No time to ask questions.
The hallway ahead flickered with blue and red lights. It wasn't made of stone. It was smooth metal. Humming. Alive.
They ran.
As they turned a corner, they skidded to a stop.
Rows of glass pods lined the walls. Each one filled with something… alive.
Not just Veyruuns. Not exactly.
One had a human body, but claws for hands. Another had horns growing from its head. One floated in green fluid, its skin black and shifting, like smoke.
Rye stepped closer. "What is this?"
Elian answered without turning. "The Concord's lab. They're not just studying shapeshifters. They're making them."
Suddenly, a loud siren blared.
The lights went red.
The pods started to shake.
"WARNING. SECURITY BREACH."
"Run!" Elian shouted.
They took off. Behind them, one of the pods cracked. A mutated beast slammed against the glass.
Then it broke free.
The creature roared — flame burst from its mouth.
Jor spun, threw a short blade, hitting its eye. It only made it angrier.
"Don't fight!" Elian yelled. "They'll keep coming!"
They darted down a new hallway, turning corners without thinking. Walls pulsed with magic. Pipes hissed.
At the end of one hall was a sealed door.
Elian raised a blue shard and jammed it into the lock. The door hissed open. They rushed inside.
The door slammed behind them.
Silence.
They were in a data room, full of floating screens and magical panels. Glowing crystals hovered in the air.
Elian walked to the center and placed the shard into a console. Light surged through the floor.
"What are you doing?" Rye asked, panting.
"I'm sending something back," he said. "Proof. Data. All of it. The Concord's real goal."
"Wait," Maeron said. "You brought us here just for that?"
"No," Elian said quietly. "I brought you here to end it."
Suddenly, boom.
A wall exploded inward. Flames. Smoke.
A figure floated into the room. Covered in white armor. Six arms. No face. Eyes like stars. A Concord Hunter.
"Scatter!" Jor roared.
Too late. The Hunter moved like light. It slammed Jor into the wall, spun, and fired a beam of white energy at Maeron. Eris threw a knife — it bounced off harmlessly.
Rye stepped forward.
The sword in her hand lit up, brighter than before.
She raised it.
The Hunter moved to block.
They clashed.
Each hit was like thunder. Rye's blade sparked red fire. The Hunter's hands burned blue. It swung with all six arms — Rye ducked one, blocked two, got grazed by another.
Her shoulder burned, but she didn't stop.
The sword felt alive now, like it wanted to fight.
Behind her, the others tried to hold off two new security drones. Eris smashed one into a wall with a shock rune. Maeron used a gravity seal to pull one to the ground. Jor was back on his feet, bleeding, but swinging.
The Hunter locked eyes with Rye.
"You were meant to lead us."
Rye froze. "What?"
The Hunter's chestplate cracked under a full-force slash. Sparks flew.
"You were the first success."
Rye stabbed straight into its chest.
The Hunter twitched, then exploded in white light.
She hit the ground, ears ringing.
Everything went quiet.
Elian limped toward her.
"I told you," he said. "This war, the beasts, even your sword — it was never just about Kaelthar and Aeloria. The Concord started this before either existed."
He looked toward the far wall, where another large door stood.
"Behind that is the core. If we destroy it, the rifts slow down. The Concord loses control. You get to choose your future."
The door opened.
And what they saw made them stop cold.
An entire army stood beyond it.
Rows of Concord mages, all in silver. Behind them, machines pumping light into more pods. In the center, a tall woman stood watching — the one from Rye's visions.
She smiled.
"Too late, Elian. The next world opens tonight."
And then everything began to shake.