Darian let out a mocking laugh, the sound swallowed by the dense foliage around him. He had slipped into Veilshroud Forest without anyone noticing—or perhaps no one cared enough to notice. The thought stung more than he expected. He is a prince, yet ignored so easily. If he were to be kidnapped, would that, too, go unnoticed?
His jaw tightened as the realization settled in. This was his reality. A bitter truth that only fueled his determination. If no one would look after him, then he would become strong enough to need no one.
He took a step forward, expecting shadows to curl around his feet, for an eerie silence to settle like a heavy fog—just as Marie had warned him. "Veilshroud is mysterious," she had said, her tone hushed as if speaking of something forbidden. "Few who enter ever return the same."
But as Darian gazed around, confusion flickered across his face. He muttered to himself, "This… isn't what I imagined."
The forest wasn't dark and oppressive. Instead, vibrant greenery stretched as far as he could see. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting golden patterns on the soft moss below. Leaves swayed gently in the breeze, their rustling accompanied by the distant chirping of unseen birds. Flowers bloomed in brilliant hues, their fragrance light and refreshing. A small stream trickled nearby, its water crystal clear.
It was beautiful. Almost too beautiful.
His fingers twitched at his sides as unease crept in. This place—Veilshroud—was supposed to be a land of mystery, shrouded in secrecy and danger. But here he stood, surrounded by serene beauty.
Something wasn't right.
As Darian ventured deeper into the forest, movement in the undergrowth caught his eye. A small creature—its body covered in dark, bristling fur with glowing red eyes—leaped at him from the bushes. He reacted instinctively, sidestepping the attack and drawing his blade in one fluid motion.
The monster lunged again, but Darian met it with a precise strike, slicing cleanly through its body. The creature let out a shrill cry before collapsing lifelessly onto the forest floor.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his sword. Too easy.
Aldric's training had ensured that something this weak posed no challenge to him. Darian barely even broke a sweat.
Frowning, he kicked a stray pebble aside. Exploring the outer edge of Veilshroud felt pointless if this was all it had to offer. His fingers tightened around his sword hilt as he glanced deeper into the forest.
"If this is all there is, then it's meaningless," he muttered.
With renewed determination, he turned his gaze toward the heart of Veilshroud. If he wanted something worth his time, he would have to go further.
But for now decided against since the sun almost set with most of the time spent on coming here,
So he prepared his camp for the night.
The night stretched over the forest like a dark veil, the only illumination coming from the flickering bonfire beside Darian's small tent. He sat on a makeshift log, his blade resting against his knee, as he ate the last of his prepared rations. The earlier battles with the beasts had left him weary, but his mind was sharper than ever. His next course of action weighed on him—should he continue pushing forward or rest until dawn?
A crisp wind rustled the leaves, carrying with it an eerie silence that settled between the occasional crackle of the fire. Then, amidst the quiet, something changed.
A voice.
Not the guttural growl of a beast, nor the rustling of the wind, but something… different. It was faint, almost like a whisper carried by the night itself. It wasn't a language he immediately recognized, yet he understood its meaning on some instinctual level.
"Come… follow…"
Darian's muscles tensed, his hand unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword. His first instinct was to ignore it, dismiss it as exhaustion playing tricks on him. But something about the voice felt unnatural—compelling. Against his better judgment, he found himself rising to his feet, his movements careful and measured as he stepped away from the fire.
The voice continued, weaving through the trees, always just beyond his reach. His breath came slow and steady as he moved deeper into the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. There was no sign of movement. No glowing eyes of a lurking predator. Only the whispering voice, drawing him forward.
Then, as he stepped past a cluster of thick trees, the forest opened into a small clearing bathed in pale moonlight. And there, standing at its center, was a figure.