The Verdant Veil was alive, and it hated them.
Thick green mist clung to every limb, every pore. The air smelled of rot and iron, sweet and sickly, carrying whispers that pricked at the mind. Every step Draven took felt like walking through sinew, the forest flexing, alive… watching.
Merlik's spear cut silently through the mist. "Keep your heads down," he muttered. "The Veil feeds on hesitation… on fear."
Draven's Blood Heresy pulsed beneath his skin. Pain from old wounds flared, but his mother's blood burned hotter, healing and empowering him at the same time. It was intoxicating, and terrifying. He could feel the creatures before they moved, sense the corrupted life in the veins of the forest.
A sudden scream split the air. A human-shaped figure burst from the shadows—skin pale, muscles twisted, eyes glowing violet, teeth jagged like a predator's. Its hands were claws, dripping with black sap that hissed when it hit the ground.
Lucian's blades cut through its neck in one swift motion—but the creature didn't die. Its body convulsed, veins glowing brighter, and it rose again, snarling.
"They are endless… and hungry," Lucian growled. His strikes were precise, cold, but even he felt the creeping terror.
Draven slashed, and the creature's Core—hidden in its spine—glowed violently. The Blood Heresy flared. His mother's power answered his will. With a scream, he crushed the Core with his bare hand, the creature exploding in a shower of blood, bone, and black sap. The smell of iron and decay filled his lungs.
Merlik moved like a shadow, spear flashing. Every strike destabilized the monsters' Cores. Every slash, every jab, was deadly and unflinching. Blood sprayed across his face, his clothes soaked. Yet he smiled, predatory. "This… this is why we survived," he hissed.
And then came the screams from deeper in the mist—humans, twisted and experimented on by the Minister, now fully transformed into beasts. They clawed, ripped, tore at each other and at the four heroes. Limbs flew, screams echoed, and the mist became a river of blood.
Lucian's rage flared. He cut through two creatures at once, each swing precise, merciless. But one struck him from behind, claw raking his chest. Blood spurted. Pain burned… but he felt alive, hungry.
Draven caught him, tossing him to safety while kicking a creature's head into a tree. Melken's daggers were everywhere, slashing throats, severing limbs with surgical precision.
The forest itself tried to kill them. Roots whipped like snakes, thorns tore skin, flowers exuded hallucinogenic pollen that made their worst fears bleed into reality. Draven staggered, seeing visions of Melken and Lucian dying over and over, screaming in agony… and felt the rush of his own blood answering their terror.
Merlik's voice cut through the chaos, calm and terrifying: "Focus. The Core. The monsters are irrelevant. The Veil wants your fear. Your doubt. Don't give it to them."
Hours—or was it minutes—passed. Bodies littered the ground. Twisted, broken, bleeding. The air smelled of death and magic, and the green mist shimmered with a malevolent life.
Draven wiped sweat and blood from his face. The Blood Heresy pulsed, hot, unyielding. He could control it now. It answered his will. The forest recoiled.
Lucian leaned against a tree, chest heaving, eyes black and hungry. "This… is what survival feels like," he said. "Not glory. Not honor. Fear. Pain. Blood. And power… all of it."
Melken looked at Draven, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. "We've survived… this. But the Veil… it's only warming up."
Merlik stepped forward, spear dripping blackened sap. "And the real war… begins after you've bled enough to understand it."
Outside the clearing, green mist spread like an ocean, alive, whispering promises of terror, power, and secrets hidden deep in the Verdant Veil.
Draven clenched his fists, tasting blood, feeling power. The forest pulsed in reply. It had acknowledged him.
And deep in the shadows, something watched… patient… waiting for the heroes to truly bleed and break.