Liora stood at the edge of the sanctuary, breathing in the cold air, her body pulsing with the aftereffects of the ritual. Her skin tingled as if touched by invisible fingers, the presence of the soul she had fused with lingering at the edges of her consciousness. She could still hear him—hear *them*—his voice calling to her in whispers she wasn't sure were his or her own.
"Liora…"
She looked around, half-expecting to see his face reflected in the gleaming stone walls. But no. He was still there, woven into her essence, a thread wrapped tightly around her soul.
The merging wasn't just an infusion of power. It was an unfolding, a continual process. The memories began to pour in—some her own, some his. Faces, names, places long forgotten, each image sharper than the next.
There was a memory of Elenvale, before the fall. A quiet, sun-dappled morning where the air smelled of jasmine and earth. Liora and her friend had been running through the hills, chasing a butterfly—a simple, innocent memory, yet one she now cherished more than anything. His laughter echoed in her mind, and it brought warmth to her chest.
But not all memories were so innocent.
There were the moments of pain. Of betrayal. Of the battle that had torn their home apart. She could see his face twisted in agony as the blade struck him, his body crumpling beneath the weight of an attack he hadn't seen coming. Her heart clenched, the emotional weight of that loss dragging her to the floor.
Liora gasped, clutching at her chest, feeling the echoes of his death reverberating through her. The grief was unbearable.
*Stay with me*, she thought desperately. *Stay with me. I need you.*
The memories slowed, becoming less overwhelming, but the pull remained constant. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself amidst the chaos. Slowly, her breath steadied. *You are not alone. This is the price of power, the weight of responsibility.*
But the merging didn't just affect her emotionally. There was a shift in her magic, too. It thrummed through her veins, stronger, more controlled. The boundaries between her power and his were beginning to blur, and with each passing moment, the Veil—the barrier between life and death—grew weaker.
Her eyes snapped open as the world around her shimmered. She had heard it—the hum of a door, half-formed, waiting to be opened.
A new layer of magic beckoned.
She stepped forward, feeling the ancient pull, the primal urge to ascend. It called to her like a song, a siren's whisper threading through the recesses of her mind. Her feet moved of their own accord, as though the earth itself was guiding her toward her destiny.
As she reached the center of the sanctuary, a vast spiral of light began to coalesce before her. It started as a faint glow, a shimmering outline of energy, but as she stepped closer, it expanded, filling the room with blinding light.
Her heart raced. This was it. The trial.
Before her, a vision appeared—Alric Sereth's face, stern and unyielding. The image was a projection, a manifestation of the test she was about to face.
"You have come far, Liora," his voice echoed through the chamber. "But the Veil-tier of magic is not so easily unlocked. You seek to wield what others would die to control. To master death itself. But to do so, you must prove yourself worthy."
The light dimmed, revealing a series of floating stones, each one inscribed with intricate symbols. They hovered in mid-air, suspended by some unseen force.
Liora's pulse quickened. She knew this ritual. It was an ancient trial—a test of both will and power. Only those strong enough, pure enough, could pass. And the reward was access to the next Veil-tier, an untold level of necromantic magic.
But there was a price. There was always a price.
Alric's image faded, replaced by a series of shifting shadows. They moved with unnatural grace, their forms twisting, contorting, ever-changing. The shadows converged on the stones, and as they did, the symbols on each began to glow.
Each stone held a different challenge—each one tailored to a specific aspect of her being.
Liora's voice trembled as she spoke aloud to herself. "I am ready."
The first stone hovered in front of her, glowing with the rune of *Memory*. Her connection to her fused soul pulsed with energy. She reached out, touching the stone, and was immediately flooded with visions of her past—the face of her father, moments of warmth, of love. Then, the shadows of regret—decisions made in haste, mistakes that had cost lives.
To pass the first trial, she needed to embrace her past, to accept the mistakes and triumphs as part of her. She would not run from who she had been. She pressed her palm firmly against the stone.
The light flared.
She stumbled back, gasping for air as the energy surged through her. A voice—her voice—spoke in her mind: *You have accepted your past. But can you let it go?*
Before she could respond, the second stone shifted forward. This one bore the rune of *Sacrifice*.
The weight of the challenge pressed down on her. Her mind flickered to the sacrifices made by those around her, including her father. The countless lives lost, the battles fought, the family left behind. She thought of the one she had fused with—the soul that had been lost to time. Could she let go of the memories of that person too? Could she relinquish the selfish desire to hold onto everything that had shaped her?
The stone glowed brighter, urging her to make a decision.
"I will," she whispered.
Another flash of light. The pain of that choice cut deeper than she had expected, but it was necessary. The power flowed into her—stronger now, more refined. The trial was working, pushing her to her limits.
Then came the final stone.
The rune of *Power*.
It hung before her like an abyss, vast and empty. The temptation to reach out for it was overwhelming. She could feel the surge of energy, the dark promise of what she could become. What she could *do*. This was what she had always sought—this was the moment she could finally take control of the Veil.
But there was another part of her—the part she had buried beneath layers of pain, regret, and power. A part that whispered *Not at the cost of yourself*.
She closed her eyes, gathering every shred of willpower she had left. The stone floated toward her, but she did not take it. Instead, she spoke the words that had been given to her by the voice in the sanctuary.
"I choose to wield power with wisdom. Not to be consumed by it."
The stone shattered, the light expanding outward, filling the entire chamber with blinding brilliance. The trial had ended.
Liora stood, breathing heavily, her body humming with new energy. The Veil-tier had unlocked within her, a door now open that had once been closed forever.
She had passed the trial.
But as the light receded, a shadow lingered.
It whispered her name—**Mavrek**.