The Trial of Shadows
---
The training grounds of the Echo Blades weren't made for comfort — they were made for survivors.
Carved into the sheer face of the mountain, the arena overlooked a chasm where the wind howled like distant wolves. It wasn't enclosed. No safety rails. No guards. If you stumbled, you didn't get up.
Kael stood at the center, shirt stripped to the waist, muscles tense, breath forming frost in the morning air.
A circle of warriors surrounded him — silent, faceless beneath their masks.
Theron stood at the edge, arms crossed. "Today, you stop running. Today, you learn what you are."
Kael stared him down. "I thought you said I was still too raw."
"You are," Theron replied. "That's why you'll fight blindfolded."
Kael blinked. "What?"
A strip of black cloth was tossed at his feet. One of the masked warriors stepped forward — tall, lean, twin blades at his hips. A woman, Kael realized, from the way she moved. Fluid. Precise.
"She's going to kill me," he muttered.
"She's going to teach you," Theron corrected. "If you survive."
Kael knelt, picked up the cloth, and tied it around his eyes. Darkness swallowed him whole.
Silence followed.
Then wind.
Then pain.
A boot slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling. Before he could rise, a wooden blade cracked across his shoulder. He rolled, barely avoiding the next strike. The ground was stone, uneven and brutal.
He fought to breathe.
But beneath the chaos — something stirred.
The Veil.
It wasn't silent anymore. It whispered. Not in words, but instinct.
Left.
Kael ducked — just in time. A blade hissed through where his neck had been.
Step forward. Elbow strike.
He obeyed. Connected with something — the warrior hissed.
The world shifted around him. His heart slowed. He didn't see the battlefield — he felt it.
Every movement. Every breath. Every intention before it manifested.
When the warrior lunged again, he was already moving. Duck, twist, kick.
The crowd murmured.
Theron's eyes narrowed.
Kael ripped the blindfold from his eyes.
The woman stood across from him, holding her weapon low. Her chest rose and fell with measured breath. Her mask covered her face — but her posture said enough.
He'd earned her respect.
Theron stepped forward, slow clap echoing across the arena.
"Well then," he said. "Seems you're not just talk."
Kael's fists trembled. Not from fear — from power.
"I didn't see her," he said hoarsely. "But I knew where she'd be. I felt it."
"That's the Veil," Theron said. "It doesn't give you sight. It gives you truth."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you feel?"
Theron's gaze darkened. "No. I feel control. You feel chaos. That's what makes you dangerous."
---
Later, in the archives beneath the temple, Kael sat with Elara under torchlight, sweat still drying on his skin.
"I felt everything," he said, voice low. "It was like… like the world moved and waited for me to decide."
She nodded. "It's starting. The Veils are bleeding into you."
Kael leaned back. "So what now?"
Elara opened a worn tome. The page shimmered with moving ink — a map. Not of land. But rifts.
"Now," she said, "we find the next Shard. Before they do."
Kael frowned. "They?"
She hesitated. "There's a reason Sylis kept the truth from you. You're not the only one the Veils speak to."
Kael leaned forward. "Who?"
A shadow passed over her face.
"They call themselves the Veilborne Requiem. Outcasts. Fanatics. Monsters. They believe the Veils must shatter completely to cleanse the world. And they've already found the second Shard."
Kael's blood ran cold.
"And they're looking for the third."
---
Somewhere far to the north, where the sun never rose and mountains bled fire, a figure stood atop a fortress of bone and ash.
He held a shard of black crystal in his palm.
It pulsed with lightless energy, humming with ancient voices.
Behind him, kneeling figures in crimson cloaks awaited a command.
The man smiled — sharp and empty.
"The Echo Blades have moved," he said. "The boy is awakened."
He lifted the shard to his ear.
The Veil whispered.
And he listened.