The village was quiet. Too quiet. The crunch of snow under their boots was the only sound, swallowed by the unnatural stillness that seemed to seep from every corner.
They passed villagers with vacant eyes, their expressions hollow and detached. Some carried wood from place to place, only to set it down and repeat the task over and over. Others swept the same patches of frozen ground, their motions mechanical, ritualistic.
"Definitely not normal," Nathan whispered, his gaze darting between the shambling figures. "They're not… real, are they?"
"No. Or if they are, they're not fully alive," Kullen replied. "It's like they're stuck in loops."
"Stuck being useless, you mean," Lucio said. "Just going through the motions. No purpose. No thought."
Jalen eyed the villagers, his shoulders tense. "Whatever this is, it's twisted. Veyruun's handiwork for sure."
The deeper they ventured into the village, the worse the air felt. Heavy. Almost suffocating. Jalen's chest tightened with every step. It wasn't just the cold—it was Veyruun's presence, bleeding into the air like a poison.
They found an empty building near the village's center. The interior was dark and cramped, smelling of dust and old wood. But it was sheltered from the wind, and for now, that was enough.
"Alright, we camp here for now," Kullen said, his voice firm. "We need to figure out what the hell this place is and how it ties into Veyruun's trial."
"Bet it's something stupid like 'find the right villager and ask them a riddle,'" Nathan muttered, rubbing his arms against the cold.
"If it was that easy, this place wouldn't be littered with walking corpses," Lucio shot back.
"Enough," Kullen interrupted. "Rest up. We'll search the area in shifts."
The others nodded, but Jalen kept pacing the room, his fingers twitching at his sides. The pressure hadn't faded. If anything, it was worse here, where the air felt thick and bitter.
It was then that he noticed the man standing outside the doorway.
He was hunched, his cloak ragged and torn, but his eyes—sharp and alive—stood out against the lifelessness of the village. They gleamed with a clarity that sent a chill down Jalen's spine.
"Are you lost, stranger?" the man rasped.
Jalen glanced at the others. Kullen's attention had drifted to his weapons, Lucio was tending to his wrapped knuckles, and Nathan was staring absently at the frost-covered walls. None of them seemed to notice the old man.
"I'm never lost," Jalen replied, his grin sharp but forced. "Who the hell are you?"
The man's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "My name is Ephraim. And if you are here, then you seek an audience with Veyruun."
"Maybe," Jalen said cautiously. "What's it to you?"
Ephraim's eyes narrowed. "Few have made it this far. Fewer still survive the trials to come."
He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "I saw what you did to the stone guardian. Impressive… but it will not be enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jalen snapped.
"It means you are being tested. All of you. And each test is meant to break you." Ephraim's gaze flicked to where Kullen sat, sharpening his blade. "The trials will test not just your strength, but your purpose. Your knowledge."
Kullen's head rose, eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
"A man who has failed," Ephraim said simply. "One who has watched countless others fall for their arrogance or ignorance. And if you are to succeed where I did not… then you must understand what you are facing."
"What's the catch?" Jalen asked, his voice cold.
"The catch is simple." Ephraim's eyes locked onto Jalen's, sharp and unyielding. "You do not belong here."
Jalen's fists clenched. "If you think I'm backing down, you're dead wrong."
Ephraim smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I expected as much. But know this—Veyruun will not judge you as he judges the others."
Jalen scoffed. "Thanks for the warning. But I've been tearing through monsters like him since day one."
"Then you are blind," Ephraim whispered. "And the blind are always the first to fall."
Jalen's glare could have melted ice, but Ephraim didn't flinch. The old man turned away, his steps slow and steady as he moved toward the door.
"You seek the Path of Ruin," Ephraim said over his shoulder. "It lies beyond the village, where the dead do not sleep."
"And how do you know all this?" Kullen demanded.
Ephraim's smile was bitter, his eyes distant. "Because I once sought Veyruun's judgment myself. And I failed."
The air felt heavier now, the weight of Veyruun's presence sinking into the bones of the village. Kullen and the others had retreated into the shelter to rest, their exhaustion creeping into every movement.
But Jalen couldn't rest. His nerves were frayed, his thoughts tangled in the tension pressing down on his chest. And Ephraim's gaze hadn't left him since their arrival.
The old man lingered at the edge of the fire's glow, his eyes sharp and searching. When he gestured for Jalen to follow, Jalen didn't hesitate.
He slipped outside, the wind biting against his skin. Ephraim stood near a twisted tree, its branches contorted like gnarled fingers clawing at the sky. The village sprawled around them, a maze of crooked buildings and hollow stares.
Ephraim's voice was low, meant for Jalen's ears alone. "You walk a path you do not understand."
Jalen crossed his arms, his grin sharp and defensive. "Been doing that my whole life. It's worked out fine so far."
"Has it?" Ephraim asked, his tone dry. "You move forward because you refuse to acknowledge what's chasing you."
Jalen's eyes narrowed. "You think you know me?"
"I know what you are," Ephraim replied, his voice like gravel. "And I know you hide it from the others."
Jalen's fingers twitched, fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not hiding anything."
"You are hiding everything," Ephraim shot back. "Your power bleeds from you like an open wound. Veyruun senses it. He will not judge you as he judges them. Your divinity marks you as something unnatural. An insult."
Jalen laughed, a harsh sound. "If Veyruun thinks I'm an insult, then he's got a lot to learn."
Ephraim's eyes gleamed with something sharp and weary. "You misunderstand. Veyruun is not offended by your presence. He is intrigued. Because power without purpose is his favorite prey."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jalen snapped.
Ephraim's gaze remained steady. "You possess power beyond what you should. And you wield it like a child swinging a blade. Recklessly. Without consideration. Veyruun will take that arrogance and break it."
"Let him try," Jalen shot back. "I've beaten gods before."
"No," Ephraim corrected. "You have beaten men who fancied themselves gods. Veyruun is something far older. And he will see your power as nothing more than a reflection of your ignorance."
Jalen's grin faltered, his eyes narrowing. "You're a real bundle of optimism, old man."
"I have seen your kind before," Ephraim continued, his voice softening. "The newly ascended. The prideful. The lost. And I have watched them all fall."
"You sound like you've got experience in that department," Jalen muttered.
"I do." Ephraim's gaze drifted to the village. "This place is filled with those who sought Veyruun's judgment and failed. Their spirits linger here, trapped by their own unworthiness. But even among them, you are an anomaly."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that your power will be turned against you," Ephraim said. "He will seek to break you in a way that leaves you hollow. Purposeless."
Jalen's grin returned, defiant and sharp. "Then he's got a hell of a fight coming."
"Perhaps," Ephraim said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Or perhaps he will break you without even lifting a finger."
Jalen's eyes darkened. "You don't know a damn thing about me."
Ephraim shook his head. "I know enough. And I know that you have yet to understand the power you wield. Until you do, you are nothing but a child playing god."
The old man's words stung, but Jalen forced himself to shrug it off. "You done?"
Ephraim's gaze lingered for a moment before he nodded. "For now."
Without another word, Ephraim turned and faded into the shadows, his presence slipping away like smoke. Jalen watched him go, his fingers twitching at his sides.
"Who the hell does he think he is…" Jalen muttered, his voice low and bitter.
He returned to the shelter, his expression carefully blank.
Kullen sat near the fire, his gaze distant and thoughtful. Lucio was leaning against the wall, his knuckles still wrapped and stained with blood. Nathan rested with his eyes half-closed, his fingers twitching in small, rhythmic movements.
Jalen settled in, his eyes flicking toward Kullen. The man's posture was rigid, his shoulders squared. Something was off.
"Alright, what's eating you?" Jalen asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.
Kullen's eyes met his, the firelight reflecting off his steel-blue irises. "Just thinking. Veyruun's trials aren't just about strength. They're about understanding. Proving you deserve to move forward."
"Which is why you're gonna handle it," Jalen said, his voice firm. "You're the one who's always had his head on straight. You'll figure it out."
Kullen's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But if Veyruun wants knowledge… then I need to be prepared. I need to know what we're up against."
"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it," Jalen said, his voice sharper than intended. "We always do."
Kullen nodded, but his expression remained tense. The fire crackled, its warmth feeble against the chill pressing in from all sides.
Outside, the village whispered with unseen eyes, judgment waiting in the shadows.