The Hollow Forest had never been silent, but the second ring carried a stillness that suffocated. No insect dared to stir, no leaf rustled. The trees here twisted into grotesque arches, their bark blackened as though charred, their roots coiled like serpents.
The initiates stood at its threshold, five shadows cloaked in fear.
Master Daran's words lingered: One fragment lies within. One among you will claim it.
Kael adjusted his grip on his weapon. His scar pulsed faintly beneath his sleeve, a heartbeat not his own.
They crossed the boundary. The world shifted.
The air grew heavier with each step, thick with residue so dense it shimmered faintly in the light. The initiates breathed shallowly, their conduits working frantically to filter the corruption. Already, one of them a boy named Leth staggered, his veins glowing too brightly.
"Hold your rhythm," Kael warned. "Slow the flow. If you let the residue run wild, it'll shred your channels."
Leth tried, but his body convulsed, ash spilling from his lips. Within moments, he collapsed. His veins had burst like overfilled rivers.
No one spoke. They left his body where it fell.
Hours passed. The deeper they went, the stronger the pressure became. The residue here was no longer just an energy it was intent. It pressed against their minds like unseen fingers, probing, whispering.
Rhovan snarled. "Do you hear it?"
Kael nodded grimly. The voices slithered at the edge of thought, promising strength, demanding surrender. Bow, and you will wield fire. Kneel, and the skies will answer. Break, and you will rise immortal.
At the center of a clearing, they found it.
The fragment.
It hovered above a cracked stone pedestal, a shard of crystallized radiance. Its glow was wrong too bright, too sharp, like light refracted through shattered glass. Residue surged from it in waves, bending the air.
Every initiate froze.
This was no beast. No trial of survival. This was divinity made manifest.
The sect had taught them fragments were dangerous, but never explained how to claim one. The truth, Kael now realized, was that the sect couldn't explain. Each fragment was different. Each demanded something unique from its claimant.
Rhovan was the first to move. He stepped forward, teeth clenched, forcing his conduit open. The residue leapt to him like a starving predator, flooding into his veins. His body arched, glowing lines carving across his skin.
"YES!" he roared, laughter twisted with agony.
Then the laughter turned to screams.
The fragment's energy tore through him, unraveling his flesh. His veins burst into flame, his bones cracked, his body twisting into something half-human, half-ash.
He lunged at Kael with blackened claws.
Kael reacted instinctively, driving his blade into Rhovan's chest. The scream that followed was not entirely human. As Rhovan collapsed, his body dissolved into a husk of cinders.
The fragment pulsed brighter, hungrier.
The remaining initiates faltered. None dared step forward now.
But Kael felt his scar burn hotter, searing through his sleeve. The voices in his head grew sharper, layered, no longer whispers but commands.
You are marked. You are mine. Claim it.
His breath came ragged. He had seen what happened to Varen. He had seen Rhovan's body torn apart. Yet the pull was undeniable, like a hook embedded in his soul.
He stepped forward.
The residue struck him like a storm. His vision blurred, his conduit screamed, his scar split open and bled silver light.
The fragment's voice was not singular. It was a chorus a thousand echoes of gods long dead.
To wield us, you must pay. What will you surrender?
Kael fell to his knees, teeth gritted, as visions assaulted him: endless battlefields, skies torn open, divine eyes watching. He realized then the fragment was not a gift. It was a pact.
What will you surrender?
His body shook violently. He knew if he chose wrong, his veins would rupture as Rhovan's had. The system was complex, deliberate. Not every offering was accepted.
Kael forced the thought through his pain. I surrender certainty. I surrender safety. I will walk the cursed path.
The fragment flared then sank into his scar.
He collapsed, gasping. Silver veins spread across his arm, then his chest, his entire conduit reshaped. The others recoiled, fear etched in their eyes.
But Kael did not turn to ash. He endured.
The voices quieted, settling deep inside him like embers beneath his skin. His veins no longer glowed faintly; they burned with silver fire, flowing in unnatural dual resonance.
When he stood, his shadow was not his own.
The others whispered his name in fear.
And Kael knew, with a certainty that chilled him he had not claimed the fragment.
The fragment had claimed him.