The forest deepened.
Beyond the clearing where Kaelith had vanished, the path narrowed into a tunnel of ancient trees, their gnarled roots rising like petrified waves frozen mid-crash. The air was heavier here, thick with a strange sweetness that clung to the throat. Edrin felt the silver pulse in his chest throb faster, like a heartbeat echoing a rhythm not his own.
Selene walked ahead, her staff brushing aside dangling vines. Liora kept her sword unsheathed, the blade whispering faintly as it moved against the air. Silence pressed down on them—unnatural, deliberate. Even the wind had stilled, as if the forest itself was listening.
"Kaelith wasn't lying," Selene murmured, though her eyes never left the path. "Every step forward is part of their design. This place… it has been prepared."
Edrin frowned. "Prepared for us?"
"Prepared for you," she corrected softly. "But the cost may fall on all of us."
Liora shot her a sharp glance. "Then why keep walking? If every path is a trap, why not turn back?"
Selene stopped. Her staff sank slightly into the soft soil as she turned to face them both. Her expression was steady, but her eyes burned with quiet intensity.
"Because power does not retreat. The Council will not allow you to leave, Liora. Even if we tried, their shadows would hound us until exhaustion broke us. The only way through… is forward."
Her words struck Edrin harder than he wanted to admit. He already felt the fatigue gnawing at his bones, the relentless pressure of expectation, of eyes unseen. Yet the silver light in his chest pulsed with steady defiance, as though it recognized the path as inevitable.
He nodded, tightening his grip on resolve. "Then forward it is."
---
They walked for hours. The path twisted unnaturally, bending back upon itself until Edrin swore they had passed the same cluster of stones three times. Strange whispers teased the edges of his hearing—soft, like children's laughter, but always just out of reach. Liora muttered curses under her breath each time a shadow flickered, blade snapping toward phantom movements.
Finally, the trees opened into a glade unlike any they had seen. The canopy above parted, revealing a sky fractured with silver veins of light stretching like cracks across glass. At the glade's center stood a colossal stone—half-buried, etched with runes so old their edges had worn smooth. Around its base grew white flowers that shimmered faintly, as though feeding on starlight.
Selene drew a sharp breath. "The Forgotten Grove."
Liora blinked. "You know this place?"
"Not from sight," Selene admitted. "Only from lore. It is said the Grove marks where the Beacon first touched mortal soil. A place of binding. A place of judgment."
Edrin's chest ached as the silver pulse surged violently, threads of light racing beneath his skin. The stone seemed to call to him, resonating with the rhythm of his heart. He stumbled forward unconsciously, until Liora caught his arm.
"Edrin. Careful."
"I… I can feel it," he whispered. "It's pulling me."
Before Selene could stop him, the ground shifted. The runes on the stone ignited, burning with pale fire. The air trembled as an ancient voice rolled through the glade, not from a figure, but from the stone itself.
"Bearer of the Beacon. You stand where your kind first defied the stars. Speak your intent, and be weighed."
The flowers around the stone shivered, releasing a faint mist that clung to Edrin's skin. Visions burst behind his eyes—fleeting glimpses of figures cloaked in light, wielding the same silver fire that now coursed through him. Warriors, scholars, martyrs. Each one burning, each one falling.
He staggered back, clutching his temples. "It's… showing me them. All of them."
Selene steadied him. "The Grove remembers. The Beacon's past hosts are not gone. Their echoes linger here, waiting for the next chosen."
The voice thundered again:
"Do you seek mastery, or do you seek survival?"
The question hung heavy.
Edrin swallowed hard, lifting his gaze to the glowing stone. "I seek… to protect. To master this power so it doesn't consume me—or anyone else."
The light flared. Reflections shimmered into existence around the glade—figures sculpted from silver radiance. They were not illusions like Kaelith's, but echoes of lives lived before him. Some bore crowns, others chains. Some stood tall in defiance; others knelt in despair.
Liora gripped her sword tighter. "What is this?"
Selene's voice was hushed. "The Grove is testing him. These are the fragments of his inheritance."
One of the echoes stepped forward. A woman clad in tattered robes, eyes hollow, silver fire dripping from her hands like blood. Her voice was cracked, broken.
"You cannot protect them. The Beacon takes more than it gives. It burned my family, my city, my soul. Do not lie to yourself—you will fail as I did."
Another figure followed—a man armored in silver, his face hidden behind a visor. His tone was cold, commanding.
"Power is not for protection. It is for domination. Submit the Council, bend the stars, carve your will into eternity. Anything less is weakness."
The echoes pressed closer, voices overlapping—accusations, temptations, warnings.
Edrin staggered under the weight of them, silver threads lashing wildly from his body as if torn between countless hands.
Liora shouted, "Edrin! Ignore them!"
"I can't," he gasped. "They're… part of me. Their choices, their failures, their desires—it's all here!"
Selene's staff flared with golden wards, pushing back the nearest echoes. "Then you must choose which path is yours. The Grove demands it!"
The stone blazed brighter, the ancient voice rising:
"Resolve is forged in choice. Submit to the weight of history—or rise above it. Decide!"
---
Edrin fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The silver pulse throbbed so violently it felt as though his heart would burst. The echoes surrounded him, their hands reaching, pulling him in different directions.
"You will fail them!" hissed the hollow-eyed woman.
"You will rule them!" commanded the armored man.
"You will be nothing!" cried a chorus of others.
But beneath their voices, deep in the marrow of his being, Edrin heard another whisper—fainter, softer, but clearer than all the rest.
You are not their shadow. You are not their chain. You are yourself.
The words steadied him. He drew a deep breath, planting his palms against the soil. Silver light surged from within, no longer wild tendrils but steady streams, wrapping around him in a cocoon of radiance.
He rose slowly, eyes burning with defiance. "I am not you. I am not your failures. I am not your chains. I am Edrin, and I will carve my own path."
The echoes screamed as his light flared, dissolving one by one into motes that drifted upward like sparks. The armored man reached toward him in rage, but his hand disintegrated before it could touch. The hollow-eyed woman's expression softened briefly, as though freed, before vanishing entirely.
The glade trembled. The stone pulsed once, twice, then split with a sound like shattering stars. From within, a shard of crystal floated upward, blazing with silver fire. It hovered before Edrin, thrumming with familiar resonance.
Selene gasped. "A fragment of the First Beacon…"
Edrin reached out, and the shard sank into his chest. The silver pulse steadied instantly, no longer chaotic but harmonious. His veins glowed faintly as the power settled deeper, becoming less a foreign presence and more an extension of himself.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders trembling with exhaustion. "It's… quieter now. Like it's listening, instead of shouting."
The ancient voice rumbled one last time:
"Then rise, Bearer. The Grove acknowledges your path. But remember—power chosen is still power tested. The Council watches. The stars remember."
The light faded. The stone crumbled into dust, the flowers around it withering into ash. The sky above sealed shut, the silver cracks fading until only darkness remained.
The Grove was silent once more.
---
Edrin staggered, catching himself on Liora's arm. She steadied him, her expression caught between relief and worry. "You look like hell."
He managed a tired smile. "Feels about right."
Selene studied him intently. "You've taken your first true step as a bearer. The shard will strengthen you, yes—but it will also draw more of the Council's gaze. They will not let this pass unnoticed."
Edrin's chest tightened. "Then let them come. I'll face them all."
But even as he spoke, he knew Selene was right. The trial had only begun, and already the weight was immense. The Grove had tested his spirit, but the Council would not stop there. They would press his body, his will, his very humanity.
Liora sheathed her sword, exhaling sharply. "Well. If we're going to be stalked by shadows and star-gods, we'd better find somewhere less cursed to rest. Before you fall over dead."
Edrin chuckled weakly, the sound breaking into a cough. "Fair point."
Selene's eyes lingered on the ashes of the stone. Her voice was almost too soft to hear. "The Grove does not lie. Every bearer before you fell, Edrin. Remember that."
He nodded, the weight of her words settling deep in his bones. But unlike before, the silver pulse did not waver. It burned steady, waiting.
He straightened, exhaustion heavy but resolve heavier. "Then I'll be the first who doesn't."
With that, they turned from the ruined Grove, stepping once more into the waiting forest. The shadows pressed close, patient and unyielding, but within Edrin the light burned stronger than ever.
The game of fate was far from over.
It had only just begun.