The Cursed Inheritance

Darkness closed in on Alaric in a choking pall. He was unable to breathe, his limbs as unsubstantial as mist, his body floating in the void.

The silence was absolute, weighing upon his mind like shapeless burden.

There was no heaven above him, no earth below—nothing but limitless void that opened out in all directions around him.

Then the whispers came back.

You are lost.

You do not belong.

Turn back before it is too late.

Alaric's fists were fists. These voices, he recognized from earlier—recognized the fine pressure of uncertainty pressing upon his soul. But this was different.

Here, in the very heart of the Veil Gate's trial, there was nowhere to escape them. They were not just voices. They were inside him, woven through his memories, focusing his fear into something he could touch.

A stir was kindled in his mind. The shadows at the end of the hall changed, forms materializing out of darkness. Shadows twisted and churned until they sorted themselves into a shape—one Alaric knew far too well.

His mother.

She stood over him, white and ghostly as the night, eyes full of hope and desperation. Her lips parted, but there was no sound.

But Alaric heard the words within his mind, a voice which gave him shivers down his spine.

You let me down.

Alaric stepped back, gasping for breath. "No. This is not happening."

You were too frail.

Someone stood before him this time. This one was Magnus, his father, no, the usurper. His icy, calculating gaze cut through Alaric's heart, his lips curling into a sneer.

"You will never be strong enough to kill me," the specter taunted. "You are nothing but a boy running from shadows."

Alaric's teeth ground together. He had promised himself he would be powerful enough to vanquish Magnus, to free his mother's soul from the demon's control.

But here, in this pit, all his doubts, all his fears gnawed at him, threatening to suffocate him in despair.

And the darkness shifted once more, and another figure stirred.

Seraphine.

Her voice cut through the darkness like a blade. "Alaric! Fight back! Don't let them win!"

Alaric's head snapped up. She stood there, on what seemed to be a platform of spinning mist, daggers tied to her sides, her face set.

She was not a ghost of the past like the others—she was alive.

Straining deep inside himself, Alaric compelled his feet to step, straining against the weight that crushed him. The moment he did, the illusions shook, their edges weakening like torn cloth. The nothingness convulsed.

The sneer dropped from Magnus's face, and he turned into a cloud of smoke. His mother's mourning eyes lingered for a moment before she too dissolved.

The hisses grew more wildly, curling about and hissing, but Alaric did not yield. He came to Seraphine's side and took her hand in a firm grip.

A convulsion of power ran through him. Darkness recoiled, fleeing as tears of golden light tear the void.

The weight that had lain upon him was lifted. The trial of the Veil Gate had been a trial of will, not of ability, but of will.

The emptiness moaned as the very fabric of reality was twisted. The forms that had chased him dissolved into nothing but mist, being drawn into the maelstrom of nothing.

A gust of cold air swept past, leaving behind shreds of the whispers as they faded away.

Then the ground under them firmed up. They were on a glowing, obsidian plane, a limitless sea to the horizon. Something far off glowed—a doorway, with whirling light around it.

Alaric drew breath, his gaze in front. Beyond the cracks in the void, the path had opened—a doorway out of the void, into the unknown.

Seraphine gazed at him. "Ready?"

Alaric nodded. He had gazed into the void in him. Now he would gaze into what came next.

They advanced side by side.

The instant they stepped through, the world was another.

It engulfed them in searing light, scorching their eyes. Alaric stumbled, his arm closing harder around Seraphine as a blast of energy ripped through his body.

His lungs burned with the cry, resisting the crushing pressure that pulled them onward.

When his vision cleared, they stood atop a great stone dais, many feet higher than a huge labyrinth of writhing walls and flying torches.

The sky was a churning haze of dark red and indigo, thunder raking in the distance.

Seraphine swore in frustration. "What now?"

A voice resounded off the walls of the room, deep and commanding, the voice of centuries.

The trial is not over.

Alaric wheeled around, his pulse thudding in his throat. Before him loomed a gigantic figure from the shadows—a protector, its massive body cloaked in dark armor of obsidian, its plate etched with glowing runes.

It wielded a tremendous blade in one massive hand, and in the other, a chain that fell into the void beneath.

The blank eyes of the guardian landed upon Alaric, and once more, came the whispers, but with a note of provocation.

Show your worth.

The sword spun.

Alaric hadn't even time to shift before the wind howled, the force of the blow creating a shockwave that radiated out across the platform.

He rolled to his feet as Seraphine fled in the other direction. The guardian was unlike anything they'd ever seen before—faster, stronger, pitiless.

Steel clanged against steel as Alaric deflected another strike, his arms creaking near breaking with the impact. Sparks were left in mid-air as his sword struck the guardian's massive blade.

He could feel the mindless power of every strike, as if the power of the abyss itself was trying to break him.

Seraphine moved back and forth with the speed of a specter, her daggers glinting in the openings of the guardian's armor. They left small scratches every time, but she did not relent.

She dodged its blows, a ghastly dance of speed and precision.

Alaric gritted his teeth. There was some weakness this beast had to have. A test of will had brought them here—why this battle?

And then he saw it.

One throbbing rune on the guardian's chest, in sync with its strikes. It was where it derived its strength from.

"Seraphine! Strike the rune! Strike the rune!" he bellowed.

She noticed it too. She didn't wait, running forward and scaling the guardian's arm, climbing its massive body.

The creature unleashed a deafening roar, thrashing about, but she was swift. Her dagger flashed.

The moment the blade sliced through the rune, a shockwave exploded out. The guardian shrieked in pain, its body twisting as lines of light flared along its length.

Alaric watched the enormous body fall, the chains that bound it snapping as they were hurled aside. The whispers stopped.

And the ground that they stood on started to tremble.

Seraphine stumbled beside him, gasping. "We need to leave here. Now."

Alaric nodded. Their path before them was clear, but the genuine threat was mere steps ahead. 

They rushed for the doorway when the gorge behind them creaked a second time.