The mountain winds howled like angry spirits as Lyrius, Elira, and Kael stood at the edge of the Stonebound Path—an ancient trail carved into the jagged cliffs of Mount Varuk. The trail led to one of Velmora's oldest ruins: the Sanctum of Echoes, said to be the resting place of a forgotten Sentinel.
Kael brushed dust off an old symbol etched into a nearby stone pillar—three intertwined rings glowing faintly in the moonlight.
"Elira," he murmured, "this is the mark of the Oathbound. The Sentinel who was buried here... was once one of them."
Elira's brow furrowed. "But the Oathbound were wiped out centuries ago. Why would a ruin this far north bear their sigil?"
Lyrius stepped ahead, his cloak fluttering behind him. "Because the past never truly dies. It just waits to be uncovered."
They entered the ruin.
The inside was far colder than expected—unnaturally so. Frost clung to the walls, and their breaths fogged with every step. The sanctum was circular, with tall stone columns and broken statues of faceless warriors. A whisper echoed softly through the chamber, like a breeze speaking in forgotten tongues.
Kael froze. "Did you hear that?"
Lyrius nodded. "It's not wind."
From the center of the room, a voice rang out—ancient, dry, and echoing through the chamber.
"Another bearer of the Arc Veil... has arrived."
The three instinctively drew their weapons. From the shadows emerged a translucent figure—a ghost clad in ceremonial armor, its face hidden beneath a cracked helm. Its voice reverberated with power.
"I am Vorthan, last of the Oathbound Sentinels. And you… are the one Velmora has waited for."
Lyrius took a step forward, his hand tingling with energy. "Waited for?"
The spirit raised an arm and pointed to Lyrius's chest—where the Veilmark pulsed with light.
"The Arc Veil recognizes you. You walk both worlds—the seen and the unseen. But you are not yet ready."
Without warning, the ground cracked beneath them. Glowing glyphs erupted in a circle, and ghostly chains shot out, binding Kael and Elira to the walls.
"Lyrius!" Elira screamed, struggling against the ethereal bonds.
Vorthan's spirit began to split into multiple forms—each taking a different stance. One held a massive sword. Another, a bow. The last, a staff humming with arcane energy.
"To protect what comes next… you must face the trials of the Oathbound. Prove your will, your spirit, and your truth."
Lyrius's eyes narrowed. "So be it."
He stepped into the circle.
The first spirit lunged forward, blade raised high.
And the trial began.