The initiates returned at dusk.
Bloodied, silent, their weapons dulled by residue ash. The Hollow Forest loomed behind them like a predator reluctant to release its prey. One by one, they stepped back into the sect courtyard, their veins still faintly glowing, their eyes hollow.
Of the six who had entered, only five remained.
Varen's absence pressed upon them heavier than any wound. His name was not spoken aloud, yet every initiate knew. Ash clung to their robes like a curse, and no washing could cleanse it.
Master Daran awaited them at the steps of the Hall of Veins. His eyes swept the group, and for a long silence, he said nothing. His gaze lingered on Kael on the faint shimmer of silver still running along his scar.
Finally, he spoke."Five return. One does not."
The words were flat, unyielding, carved in stone.
"Such is the forest. Such is the path. The residue does not forgive the weak. Nor will I."
No mourning. No lament. Varen's life had been measured, found wanting, and erased.
But Kael still heard Varen's voice echo in his skull. Help me…
That night, the initiates were gathered in the Hall. Their conduits were tested, their energy measured. The sect's scribes, veiled in grey, noted every fluctuation on scrolls of ash-pulp.
When Kael's turn came, the elder who examined him paused.
"Your veins burn brighter than before," the old man muttered, fingers tracing the glow beneath Kael's skin. "Yet they are… unstable. As if two streams of residue fight for dominance."
Kael stiffened."Is that dangerous?"
The elder's withered eyes flickered. "It depends. If one stream devours the other, you will collapse into ash. If you master both, you will rise above your peers. The path of dual resonance is rare, rare, and cursed."
Before Kael could respond, Master Daran's voice cut through the hall."Enough. Mark his growth. Move on."
But Kael felt the weight of those words long after. Dual resonance. A path that could raise him or break him.
Later, as the other initiates slept, Kael sat alone in the training yard. The scar on his arm pulsed softly, silver light flickering like embers beneath his skin. He traced it with trembling fingers.
Why had Varen turned while he had endured? The wolf's bite had not touched him, yet he had felt the same whispers clawing at his mind. And when he struck Varen, something had answered. Not his own strength alone, but a force deeper, older.
The vision haunted him still gods with hollow eyes, staring through the veil of the sky.
His scar pulsed again.
And with it, a whisper, faint as a breath against his soul.
Not all who fell are silent.
Kael froze, his blood cold.
The following day, Master Daran summoned the survivors to the outer terrace. From there, the Hollow Forest was visible in the distance, its black canopy stretching like a wound upon the land.
"You have survived what others would not," Daran said. "But survival is not enough. The forest is only the beginning. The world beyond holds remnants more vile than twisted beasts fragments of gods themselves."
The initiates shifted uneasily. Even Rhovan, brash as ever, kept silent.
"Fragments," Daran continued, "are the purest shards of divinity left after the pantheon fell. Touch one, and you will drink power that no mortal should wield. But the danger is absolute. Those who cannot master it become not ash, but something worse vessels of unending corruption. The ancients called them the Hollowed."
Kael's scar burned hotter at the word.
Daran's gaze swept the group, cold and piercing."Your next trial will not be against beasts. It will be against yourselves. One fragment lies within the Forest's second ring. You will enter. You will find it. And one among you will claim it."
A ripple of unease passed through the initiates. They knew what he truly meant: not all would return.
That night, Kael lay awake, staring at the rafters above. His scar throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, whispering faintly at the edges of his mind.
He thought of Varen, consumed from within. He thought of the elder's words dual resonance, rare, cursed. And he thought of Daran's decree.
A fragment awaited them. Pure, unbroken divinity. Enough to elevate or annihilate.
The whispers grew louder, curling like smoke through his thoughts.
You are marked. You are chosen. When the fragment calls, you will not resist.
Kael clenched his fists until his knuckles bled.
"No," he whispered into the darkness. "I will endure."
But deep inside, he wondered if the path he walked was truly his own or if the Fallen themselves had already claimed him.