The Veiled Lands didn't begin with chaos. They began with silence---a silence that felt unnatural, as if the entire world was holding its breath. The mist parted just enough to reveal a trail beneath their feet, a winding path of white stones veined with silver, leading into a forest of trees that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.
Elara's heart thudded louder in the quiet, her senses on high alert. The trees were tall, their bark pale as bone, their leaves delicate and translucent, humming with something almost alive. The forest wasn't silent because there was no life. It was silent because everything was listening.
Elara walked lightly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness. She found herself glancing up at Kael, noticing the tension in his jaw and the way his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. She couldn't help but ask, "Is it always like this?"
Kael's voice was low, almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the delicate balance. "They call this place the Whisperwood. The trees here… they're alive, in ways you can't even imagine. They hear, they remember… and they judge."
Elara's gaze lingered on one of the trees, and for a split second, she thought she saw its branches twitch, almost as if acknowledging her. She quickly looked away, an uneasy chill creeping up her spine.
"Tell me about the Watcher," she murmured, her voice betraying a hint of curiosity mixed with unease. "You knew him, didn't you?"
Kael paused. The silence stretched between them like a thick fog. When he finally spoke, his voice was far off, like he was remembering something he wished he could forget. "Not him, exactly. But I've crossed paths with their kind before. They were once men----warriors, priests, mages---those who gave up everything to become the guardians of these lands. Their souls are bound to relics. That lantern he carried? It holds pieces of memories----our memories."
Elara swallowed, trying to push back the rising dread. "Do you think I'll get it back?"
"When the land allows it."
They kept walking, but now Elara felt the weight of her mother's absence pressing even harder on her chest. What did it mean to be the last of the Freeblooded? To carry this sigil, this legacy, that seemed to only bring trouble?
Hours passed---or what felt like hours. The air grew thicker, heavier, as if the forest itself was wrapping its tendrils around them. The silver stones beneath their feet glowed brighter with each step, guiding them deeper into the heart of the Veiled Lands.
Finally, they reached a clearing.
In the center stood a stone monolith, cracked and covered with moss-like lichen that shimmered in shifting colors. Runes etched into the stone pulsed faintly with energy. Broken weapons and charred bones littered the ground around it, remnants of battles long past.
"What is this place?" Elara asked, stepping cautiously into the clearing. She could feel the air crackling with ancient power.
Kael's eyes darkened, his face hardening. "An old battlefield. The first clash between the Freeblooded and the Voidborn."
"Freeblooded?" Elara echoed, trying to make sense of the weight of the word.
Kael turned to her, his gaze softening slightly, but the shadows still lingered in his eyes. "That's what your kind were called. Those born with the sigil---those who were once human but became something more. Your mother was one of the last, and now… you're the only known heir."
Elara's breath hitched, a cold shiver running through her. "I'm not ready for this."
Kael's voice was gentle, almost compassionate, but laced with a deep truth. "No one ever is. But your power is awakening. The sigil responds to this place. You need to listen to it."
She stepped closer to the monolith, her fingers brushing over the runes. The moment her skin made contact, the world seemed to shudder, and she was no longer in the clearing.
Instead, she stood in the same place, but the trees were burning. Smoke and ash filled the air as men and women with glowing eyes fought against creatures made of shadow and bone. Magic crackled, swords clashed, and the ground trembled beneath the weight of battle. In the heart of it all was her mother---radiant with power, her sigil glowing like a beacon, standing against a creature so large and terrifying it seemed to devour the light itself.
"Elara," her mother's voice whispered, a soft plea carried on the wind.
Elara reached out, desperate. "Mother…"
Her mother's eyes were grave, her face etched with the knowledge of something terrible to come. "You must remember who you are. The power within you must awaken, or everything… everyone… will fall."
Before Elara could speak, the vision collapsed, and she was back in the clearing, gasping for air. Her hands shook violently, the world around her spinning as she tried to process what she had just seen.
"What happened?" Kael asked, his voice rough with concern as he reached out to steady her.
"I… I saw her," Elara breathed, her voice cracking. "My mother. She was fighting something… something monstrous. A god of nightmares."
Kael's expression darkened. "That sounds like a Night Herald."
Elara's brow furrowed. "What are those?"
"Not what---who," Kael replied, his voice low, almost a growl. "They were the generals of the Voidborn army. Only three remain. And they're searching for the next Freeblooded host. You."
A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the faint rustling of the Whisperwood. Then, suddenly, a distant sound reached them---drums, beating in time with a growing sense of urgency.
Kael's face hardened. "That's not from the forest. That's war magic. Someone's coming."
Without warning, a flare of red magic shot into the sky, exploding in a burst of fire and smoke.
"Elara," Kael said, already unsheathing his blades. "Run."
But Elara didn't move. The sigil on her arm burned like wildfire, its heat spreading through her entire being.
From the treeline ahead, a figure emerged---clad in red and gold, his armor gleaming with an almost cruel light. His face was half-covered by a crystalline mask. In his hand, he wielded a blade wreathed in flame.
"Elara of the Freeblood," he called, his voice carrying an unnatural authority. "By order of the Crimson Covenant, I claim you as our weapon. Come willingly---or burn."
Elara stepped forward, her jaw set in defiance. She wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
"I'm no one's weapon," she said, her voice steady but fierce. "If you want me… you'll have to take me."
The Crimson warrior's lips curled into a cold smile. "So be it."