The forest was alive in ways Kael could barely comprehend.
Everywhere he turned, the earth pulsed faintly with veins of light, glowing like rivers of molten crystal just beneath the soil. The illumination wasn't steady—it throbbed, as though synced with a heartbeat that did not belong to him. When he stopped to listen, he could almost feel it echo inside his chest, matching his pulse for a few seconds before falling out of rhythm, forcing his heart to stumble in protest.
Each misstep made him dizzy. Each breath tasted strange, thick with spores that shimmered faintly in the air.
Kael leaned against a massive root, its bark slick with dew. His vision blurred at the edges. The jump from the cliff had left him battered, his ribs aching with every breath, and though the Veil's whispers whispered of strength, of power, he knew calling on it again so soon might shatter what remained of his body.
"Rest," he muttered to himself. "Find shelter first. Answers later."
The forest didn't answer, but it watched.
He felt it in the way branches curved toward him when he passed, the way patches of moss shifted in subtle patterns, almost like eyes tracking his steps. Even the air carried weight, thick with the sound of hidden things—scratches, chittering, low thrums that vibrated through his bones.
The System's voice interrupted, neutral but sharp as a blade:
> [Condition: Critical. Energy Reserves: 12%. Recommended Action: Initiate Recovery Protocol. Risk of collapse in 48 minutes.]
Kael exhaled. "Forty-eight minutes, huh? At least you're generous."
Dragging himself onward, he searched for any semblance of safety. The ground dipped into a hollow where the glowing veins converged beneath a circle of massive trees. At the center, roots twisted upward to form a natural alcove—small, enclosed, almost like a cradle of wood and stone.
It wasn't perfect, but it was shelter.
He collapsed inside, staff clattering beside him. For a moment he simply lay there, chest heaving, sweat dripping into the dirt. His mind wavered between exhaustion and the constant pull of the whispers, a quiet murmur at the back of his thoughts.
Use us. Heal. Rise.
"No," he hissed, pressing his palms to his ears as if that would silence them. "Not yet."
The System flickered again:
> [Recovery Protocol Initiated. Sleep Recommended. Warning: hostile presence within proximity range.]
Kael sat upright instantly, eyes darting into the gloom beyond the alcove. The forest had grown quieter. No chittering, no scratching. Only silence.
And silence in a place like this was worse than noise.
His grip on the staff tightened. His instincts screamed at him to stay awake, but his body betrayed him, limbs heavy, eyelids sinking despite his will. The exhaustion was too deep, gnawing into marrow and soul.
He fought it as long as he could. Then darkness claimed him.
---
The dream came swiftly, too vivid to ignore.
Kael stood in a wasteland of ash. The sky burned crimson, torn by jagged cracks from which poured rivers of black flame. Around him lay the shattered remains of warriors clad in armor he did not recognize—yet their faces were familiar. His own. Hundreds of his own faces staring lifelessly upward.
At the center of it all stood the altar of black metal, its reflection waiting.
"You cannot run from us," the mirrored Kael said, its many voices layered like a storm. "The Veil is not borrowed—it is yours. Every time you resist, you weaken. Every time you submit, you grow."
Kael clenched his fists. "If I give in, I won't be me anymore."
The reflection smiled. "And what are you now? A wanderer? A remnant? You already walk the line between self and shadow. Embrace it, or fade like the others."
The whispers rose into a chorus, drowning his protests. His reflection stepped forward, hand outstretched, black veins crawling across its skin. "We offer strength. We offer survival. The choice is already made."
Kael screamed—
---
And awoke.
The alcove was bathed in faint silver light. Night had fallen, though the forest glowed faintly from the veins beneath the ground. His chest heaved, sweat pouring down his temples. The dream clung to him, so real it left the taste of ash in his mouth.
But he wasn't alone.
Shadows shifted at the edge of the alcove. Dozens of small figures crouched low, their eyes gleaming like molten coins in the dark. Their bodies were wiry, covered in bark-like scales that cracked with each movement. They moved in sync, silent, too precise to be mere beasts.
The System flickered to life:
> [Hostile Entities Identified: Chitterkin. Tier: Low. Swarm Tactics. Quantity: 17. Threat Level: Moderate.]
Kael cursed under his breath. "Seventeen of you. Perfect."
The Chitterkin didn't rush him immediately. They spread out, encircling the alcove, their movements cautious, probing. As though they had seen prey before and wanted to measure it before striking.
Kael's staff pulsed faintly in his hand, eager, hungry. The Veil stirred within him, whispering promises.
Use us. They are nothing. Devour them.
His body trembled. He remembered the cavern—the explosive surge, the way shadows had unraveled beneath his command. He remembered the Sentinels, the way even a fragment of the Veil's power had nearly destroyed him.
But he also remembered the dream. His reflection's words.
"Damn it," Kael muttered.
The Chitterkin hissed, a chorus of sharp clicks, and then lunged all at once.
Kael raised his staff, every nerve on fire. He channeled what little arcane energy he had left, forcing it into a single concentrated blast. The bolt struck the first creature mid-leap, exploding bark and flesh across the hollow. But the others were already on him, claws raking, teeth snapping.
He swung wildly, staff cracking against skulls, bursts of energy flaring too weak to finish the job. Pain tore across his shoulder, his thigh, his arm. The swarm pressed in, suffocating him under sheer numbers.
The whispers screamed.
Call us!
Kael's vision blurred, blood hot on his skin. He had seconds left. No strength, no options—except one.
He clenched the staff with both hands, voice raw. "Veil of Echoes!"
Darkness erupted.
The Chitterkin shrieked as tendrils of shadow exploded outward, wrapping around their bodies, crushing, ripping. The forest itself recoiled as the Veil poured from him, a storm of living whispers that devoured everything within reach.
Kael screamed too, but whether in rage, pain, or something darker, he could not tell. His veins burned, his mind splintered. For a moment he saw through dozens of eyes at once—his enemies' eyes, wide with terror as they were torn apart from within.
When it ended, silence fell.
The alcove was littered with corpses, their bodies twisted, drained of life. The ground itself seemed scarred, roots blackened where the Veil had touched.
Kael fell to his knees, staff slipping from his grasp. His chest heaved, his vision doubled. Black veins crawled up his arms, across his throat, before receding again.
The System's voice cut through the ringing in his skull:
> [Skill Usage Recorded. Veil of Echoes Stability: 39%. Side Effects Intensifying.]
Kael laughed weakly, though the sound held no humor. "Down three percent in one night. At this rate, I won't last a week."
The whispers coiled within him, satisfied. They no longer screamed—they purred.
Kael slumped against the root, eyes heavy. He had survived again. But each survival came at a cost he was no longer sure he could pay.
And the forest was far from done with him.
---