The sun was high by the time they reached the Veilwood's outskirts. From a distance, it looked like any other forest—dense, ancient, its towering trees casting long shadows. But as they drew closer, an unnatural stillness took hold. No birds sang. No wind stirred the leaves.
Elara's horse whinnied nervously, and she had to tighten her grip on the reins.
Dain exhaled sharply. "I hate this place already."
Hadric muttered a quiet prayer. "The Veilwood is a scar upon the land. A place where the Epoch System faltered."
Rheon narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Hadric gestured toward the forest. "Long ago, during a past cycle, a great battle was fought here. But something went wrong. The System's reset didn't fully take. Time fractured, and now…" He hesitated. "Things here do not follow the rules of the world."
Lorien smirked, though his hand rested on his dagger. "So we could run into ghosts, lost time travelers, or worse?"
Elara's voice was quiet. "Or worse."
They pressed forward.
The Forest of Echoes
The deeper they rode, the more the world shifted. The trees changed when they weren't looking—one moment gnarled and ancient, the next young and fresh. The ground beneath their horses would flicker, stone roads appearing for a heartbeat before vanishing into tangled roots.
Time was broken here.
Then the whispers began.
At first, they were distant—soft murmurs, words just out of reach. But soon, the voices grew clearer.
"You have been here before."
"The cycle is endless."
"Turn back."
Lorien cursed under his breath. "Tell me you all heard that."
Rheon's grip tightened on his sword. "Stay close. Keep moving."
They rode on, but the deeper they went, the more familiar it all seemed. Rheon could swear he had seen that broken bridge before. That fallen tree. That ruined shrine covered in ivy.
A feeling settled in his chest—he had traveled this path before.
And then, suddenly—
The road split.
To the left, a path led into a thick fog, shadows moving within it. To the right, the trees twisted unnaturally, their branches forming words in the old tongue.
Elara paled. "It's forcing us to choose."
Dain gritted his teeth. "We take the wrong path, we might not come back."
Hadric dismounted, stepping toward the twisted trees. He reached out, tracing the letters carved into the bark. His voice was barely a whisper.
"One path leads forward. One leads to eternity."
Silence fell.
Then, Rheon felt it. Something watching them.
A shape stirred in the mist—tall, draped in a tattered cloak, its form shifting like smoke. A Veilwalker.
Elara's breath caught. "We have to move. Now."
Rheon didn't hesitate. He turned toward the right path, the one marked by the twisted trees. "This way."
They spurred their horses forward, leaving the fog behind.
As they rode, the whispers followed—soft, insistent, as if the forest itself was remembering them.
And as they disappeared into the depths of the Veilwood, the System watched.
The Veilwalker's Pursuit
The whispers of the Veilwood never faded, but now, they carried a sharper edge—words spoken directly into their minds.
"You do not belong."
"The cycle rejects you."
"Leave, or be consumed."
Rheon ignored them, forcing his horse forward. The twisted trees of the right-hand path loomed overhead, their bark etched with ancient symbols that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking. The air itself felt heavy, like wading through unseen currents.
Behind them, the Veilwalker moved with an unnatural grace, gliding over the ground rather than stepping. Its form wavered, sometimes solid, sometimes mere shadow. It made no sound, but Rheon could feel its presence pressing against them.
Elara rode beside him, her knuckles white on the reins. "It's not attacking."
Dain cursed. "Doesn't need to. That thing's just waiting for us to make a mistake."
Hadric murmured a quiet prayer. "If it catches us, we will be lost."
Rheon exhaled sharply. "Then we don't let it."
They rode harder.
The Time-Worn Path
The road twisted ahead, the forest growing denser, darker. Strange shapes flickered in the corners of their vision—shadows moving against the trees, echoes of past travelers who had never left.
Then—a break in the trees.
A ruined archway stood ahead, carved from obsidian stone, glowing with faint runes. Beyond it, the forest was different—more stable, more real.
Lorien let out a breath. "That's our way out."
Rheon didn't question it. He spurred his horse forward—
But the Veilwalker reacted.
It moved for the first time—not gliding, but striking. A tendril of black mist lashed out, wrapping around Hadric's ankle, yanking him from his horse.
Hadric hit the ground hard, gasping as the tendril coiled around him, pulling him toward the shifting shadows.
"Elara!" Rheon shouted.
She was already moving. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a burst of white fire—the only kind of magic that could affect the cursed. The tendril recoiled, releasing Hadric.
Rheon jumped from his horse, grabbed Hadric by the arm, and hauled him up. "Move!"
Together, they ran toward the archway, the Veilwalker screaming in rage. The sound was wrong—not a voice, but hundreds speaking at once.
It lashed out again, but this time, as Rheon and Hadric crossed the archway's threshold—
It stopped.
The tendrils of mist recoiled violently. The Veilwalker stood just outside the arch, its form flickering, unstable.
For the first time, Rheon saw something beneath the hood.
A face.
Not a monster. Not a demon.
A man.
His own eyes stared back at him.
Then, in a blink, the Veilwalker vanished.
The Forgotten Ruins
Silence filled the clearing. The archway had led them to another ruin—a temple, half-buried in the earth, covered in more of the same runes that had been etched into the Guardian's armor.
Hadric sat on a broken pillar, breathing hard. "That was no ordinary wraith."
Elara looked shaken. "It was a reflection."
Rheon was silent. He knew what he had seen. The Veilwalker had been him.
Lorien broke the quiet with a nervous chuckle. "Right. So we almost got erased from existence, Rheon's got a ghost twin, and we're standing in yet another ruin that's probably cursed. What now?"
Rheon stared up at the crumbling temple.
The Veilwalker had been trapped in the cycle.
If this temple held more pieces of the Epoch Relic, then maybe—just maybe—it also held the key to breaking free.
He turned to the others. "We go inside."