They stood outside the entrance to the labyrinth, the Veil’s faint hum vibrating through the air. Roland’s arms were full of warm, buttery Caxsilla, a gift from the local baker—who, as it turned out, was none other than Beryn’s mother.

“She wanted to show her appreciation,” Celeste said, clearly amused as she plucked one of the rolls from the top of the pile. “And apologise for her son dragging us into this.”

Roland shifted the weight in his arms, struggling to keep the stack balanced. “Appreciation is nice, but did she have to give me this many?”

“She is a baker,” Celeste pointed out, taking a bite. “This is how they say ‘thank you.’”

Roland huffed but didn’t argue. The Caxsilla were good.

Beryn stood nearby, arms crossed, his dark purple skin and bone plates catching the light from the lanterns surrounding the entrance. He was large, broad-shouldered, and full of the reckless energy of youth.

Except, as Roland had learned just minutes ago, Beryn was eighty years old.

“That still doesn’t feel real to me,” Roland muttered, watching as the young Flameborn stretched in preparation.

Celeste chuckled. “Motherborn children are rare, and they grow slowly. It takes time to cultivate strength like ours.” She gave Beryn a once-over. “Even at eighty, he’s still young by our standards.”

Roland shook his head. “Eighty years old and still not an adult. That’s ridiculous.”

Beryn turned toward them, clearly impatient. “If you’re done talking about me, let’s go over the rules again.”

Celeste gestured for him to continue, though Roland could tell she was barely holding back a smirk.

Beryn straightened. “You two are only here to observe. You report back on my efforts, but you do not interfere unless absolutely necessary.” His gaze flicked between them, lingering on Celeste, as if making sure she understood.

Celeste held up a hand in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re the challenger.”

Beryn nodded, satisfied. “In return, you can have any of the spoils, as long as I get to challenge every creature first.”

Roland exchanged a glance with Celeste, who gave him a small nod.

“Agreed,” Roland said.

Beryn grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Good. Then let’s open this gate.”

Roland couldn’t help but find it very convenient that the labyrinth gate was right in the middle of town. He glanced around at the bustling streets, at the people who had simply built their lives around it, and shook his head. “You’re telling me this just happened to grow here?”

Celeste smirked. “Not luck. The gate formed because it sensed the concentration of Motherborn in Fraella. The Veil reacts to us.”

Roland exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Right. Because that’s not unsettling.”

Still, he stepped forward and placed his hands on the stone frame. The pulse of Veil energy thrummed beneath his fingers, waiting for his call. He whispered the prayer, and the gate shimmered to life, swirling silver threads weaving into an opening.

Celeste clicked her tongue. “Bigger this time.”

Roland raised an eyebrow but did as she asked, widening the passage as the energy stretched and solidified. Then he saw why.

Celeste strolled up, leading a wagon pulled by a creature that looked mostly like a mule—except for its ridged horns and thick, reptilian hide.

“You brought a wagon?” Roland asked, incredulous.

Celeste grinned. “Of course. I plan on taking the spoils this time.”

Roland let out a breath, shaking his head. “That reminds me—how does currency even work here? What do the Motherborn use?”

“Mostly bartering,” Celeste said as she adjusted the harness on the Krul. “We trade goods and services. If we need to settle an imbalance, we use experiences.”

Roland frowned. “Experiences?”

Celeste held out her hand. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Curious, Roland placed his palm against hers.

In an instant, something shifted—his vision blurred, and suddenly, he wasn’t standing at the gate anymore. He was moving, fast and free, wind rushing past his face. His hands clutched thick fur as he rode on Fang’s back, weaving through the dense Viridara forest, feeling the sheer power of the colossal beneath him.

The sensation lasted only a moment before he snapped back to himself, standing at the gate once more. He inhaled sharply, his body still tingling with the memory.

Celeste smirked. “See? Experiences. It’s valuable. Can’t be stolen, can’t be counterfeited. We trade memories, skills, and knowledge.”

Roland let out a breath. “That… was incredible.”

She patted his shoulder. “Glad you think so. Now, let’s get moving.”

They stepped through the gate, leading the wagon inside. The labyrinth was the same as before—grey, fading, eerily silent. But the Veil-lings could sense the change. The moment the gate was fully formed, they started moving, creeping toward the disturbance like hungry scavengers.

Beryn cracked his knuckles. “Finally.”

The first Veil-lings rushed in, chittering and snarling. Roland stayed back, hand resting on his sword, watching closely.

Beryn met them head-on, fire trailing along his fists as he slammed into the creatures with the force of a hammer. The young Flameborn wasn’t just capable—he thrived in combat. His movements were aggressive but disciplined, using bursts of flame to scorch through his enemies before they could overwhelm him.

Celeste leaned against the wagon, watching with mild amusement. “He’s good enough for this level.”

Roland nodded, keeping his eye on the fight. The youngling was holding his own—for now. But the real test would come deeper in.

Roland had suspected from the start that Celeste had been guiding their path through the labyrinth, and now he was certain of it. The terrain had shifted, the twisting tunnels leading them somewhere new, far from the route they had taken last time. And the Veil-lings had changed as well.

This section of the labyrinth was swarming with creatures unlike anything they had seen before. Insect-like Veil-lings, each about two feet long, scuttled along the cracked ground and clung to the brittle roots overhead. Their chitinous shells shimmered faintly, pulsing with absorbed divine energy, and their mandibles clicked in eerie unison as they turned toward the intruders.

Roland kept one hand on his sword but didn’t move. This was Beryn’s fight.

The young Flameborn didn’t hesitate—he charged in.

At first, he fought well. His strikes were powerful, fire coating his fists as he smashed through the creatures with raw strength. But the moment more of them swarmed in, his lack of experience started to show.

Instead of controlling the battlefield, he let himself get surrounded. Instead of adjusting his movements, he became frantic, his blows growing wild and unfocused. The insects piled on, their sharp legs scraping against his armor, their bodies pressing in from all sides.

Then Beryn panicked.

A pulse of fire erupted around him in a desperate attempt to break free. The flames expanded outward, forming an uncontrolled inferno around his body.

Roland barely had time to curse before he and Celeste were forced to retreat, heat licking at their skin.

"Friendly fire, Beryn!" Roland called, shielding his face from the searing heat.

Celeste hissed in frustration. “Idiot!”

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The flames consumed everything in their reach—the Veil-lings, the brittle ground, and, much to Celeste’s dismay, the potential spoils.

When the fire finally died down, Beryn stood victorious, breathing heavily in the middle of a scorched battlefield.

Roland exhaled, shaking his head. “Well, that was one way to do it.”

Celeste, however, was far from amused. She stormed forward, eyes burning with irritation.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she snapped.

Beryn scowled. “I won, didn’t I?”

Celeste crossed her arms. “Barely. And at what cost? You didn’t use strategy, you didn’t account for your allies, and worst of all—you ruined my spoils.”

Beryn flinched slightly at that last part. Roland wisely stayed quiet.

Celeste exhaled sharply. “I know your father would have taught you better. The Flameborn way is about strength and control, not just brute force. If you fight like this outside the labyrinth, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

Beryn clenched his fists, jaw tight. But he didn’t argue.

Celeste shook her head. “Next time, fight smart.”

The young Flameborn said nothing, but Roland could see the frustration in his expression. Whether it was at Celeste or himself, Roland wasn’t sure.

After Celeste’s lecture, Beryn finally started thinking before he moved. His attacks became more controlled, his positioning tighter, and he adjusted when the swarm tried to outmaneuver him. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but at least he wasn’t just throwing fire in every direction and hoping for the best.

Roland used the opportunity to train as well, focusing on his soul gaze. With Beryn’s permission—something the Flameborn had been far too eager to grant. Something about how Roland should be honored to see such a brilliant soul. Roland studied his movements, watching how instinct, intent, and training clashed.

It was fascinating. He could see the moments where hesitation formed—where Beryn’s instincts pushed one way, but his training pulled another. Every time that happened, it created a weakness—a slight delay, a misstep, a strike that didn’t land with full force. Against the Veil-lings, it wasn’t enough to cost him the fight, but against a real opponent? Someone who knew what to look for? It would be his downfall.

The Veil-lings, on the other hand, were entirely different. Their souls were wild—not like people or even animals. They were pure instinct, acting with no doubt, no second thoughts. That made them predictable. They had no hesitation, no conflicting training. They simply moved.

Roland absorbed every detail, committing them to memory. He had learned how to read intent, but if he wanted to master his skill, he needed to remove hesitation. His body had to move the way the Veil-lings did—without doubt, without second-guessing.

Meanwhile, Celeste was completely in her element, harvesting materials from fallen Veil-lings with ruthless efficiency. She was practically beaming by the time she filled another crate on the wagon.

Roland raised an eyebrow. “You’re way too happy about this.”

She smirked. “You would be too if you knew how valuable these are.” She tapped the side of the crate. “Most of this is going to help Fraella. But when we’re stronger? We’ll be able to call in those favors.”

Roland glanced at the growing haul, considering the implications. “So, we’re investing in the future.”

“Exactly.” Celeste grinned. “And when the time comes, we’ll make this pay off.”

Roland exhaled and turned back to the fight, watching Beryn carve through another wave of Veil-lings.

Roland felt the change before he saw it. The flow of divine energy around them shifted, warping like a current pulling toward a singular point. Even the walls of the labyrinth had altered—where before they were dull and grey, now they shimmered, translucent. Beyond them, stars hung in the void, distant and cold, as if they had stepped back into the Veil itself.

Then the Boss appeared.

A massive, wolf-like Veil-ling prowled forward, its body rippling like liquid shadow, shifting between solid and ethereal as it moved. Its fur shimmered, catching the dim starlight in unnatural ways, and its eyes—two orbs of silver fire—locked onto them with terrifying focus.

Celeste’s carefree attitude vanished instantly. She clenched her fists, sparks of energy flickering across her skin as she tensed. “This is bad.”

Roland’s grip tightened on his sword. “How bad?”

Celeste didn’t take her eyes off the creature. “It’s evolved too far. The divine energy running through it… it’s started connecting to the labyrinth itself.”

Roland frowned. “What does that mean?”

Celeste exhaled sharply. “It means it’s at its limit. This thing is powerful enough to channel divine energy into the walls. It’s creating its own little domain inside the labyrinth. If it had more time, it could stabilize this place, turn it into something permanent.”

Roland cursed under his breath. That was bad.

Celeste turned to Beryn. “You need to let us help.”

Beryn bared his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. “This is my fight.”

Celeste’s tone sharpened. “Knowing the strength of your opponent is also a skill. You don’t charge into a fight blind.”

“I’m not blind,” Beryn snapped. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Celeste shot back. “You’ve never faced something like this.”

Beryn took a step forward, fire beginning to swirl around his arms. “I’m not failing this trial. I won’t be shamed again.”

Roland watched the two of them, heart pounding as the wolf-like Veil-ling moved closer, its body shifting like flowing water, its silver eyes burning.

Beryn had made his choice.

Now, Roland could only wait to see if it would cost him.

Beryn wasted no time. The moment the wolf-like Veil-ling moved, so did he.

Flames roared to life around his fists as he launched forward, his speed impressive even by Flameborn standards. He struck first, weaving between the boss’s shifting form, delivering rapid, crushing blows to its ribs and legs. Fire lashed out with each strike, searing fur and leaving glowing embers where his fists connected.

The wolf barely flinched.

It moved like a liquid shadow, its body rippling between solid and mist, flowing around Beryn’s attacks with unnatural grace. When it struck back, it was fast. A blur of silver claws and burning eyes.

Beryn barely avoided the first swipe, twisting midair and kicking off a broken root to reposition. He retaliated with a burst of fire, a controlled explosion that sent a wave of heat through the air. The wolf recoiled, its translucent body flickering as if destabilized for a moment.

Roland clenched his fists. He’s using everything he has.

But it wasn’t enough.

For all his raw talent, Beryn lacked control. The fight dragged on, and the gap in power became clear. The wolf wasn’t reckless. It was patient. It tested Beryn’s movements, pushing him, exhausting him. It didn’t need to overpower him immediately—it just needed to outlast him.

Roland could see it happening. The hesitation creeping in. The way Beryn’s once-fluid strikes grew just a little slower, just a little sloppier. The Veil-ling wasn’t making mistakes, but Beryn was.

Celeste tensed beside him. She wanted to jump in—Roland could feel it. But she held back, respecting the Flameborn tradition. This was his fight.

Then it happened.

Roland's soul gaze saw it before his eyes could even register it.

A moment of hesitation. A half-step off balance. A slip.

The wolf lunged, its silver claws slashing across Beryn’s chest. The impact sent him staggering back, fire sputtering out as pain stole his focus.

The second strike was already coming. Straight for his head.

Roland didn’t think.

He moved.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up. He leapt, shield raised, interposing himself between Beryn and death. The claws slammed into his shield with a force that sent shockwaves through his arm, but he held firm.

Celeste was already moving.

The moment Roland blocked the attack, she vanished into motion, sliding beside Beryn and pressing her hands to his wound. Divine energy flared as she whispered a rapid prayer, sealing the worst of the damage before he could even process the pain.

Roland gritted his teeth, bracing against the wolf’s weight. Its silver eyes locked onto him now, as if acknowledging his interference.

And now, whether they liked it or not—this was their battle.

Roland gritted his teeth as his shield absorbed the brunt of another of the wolf’s attacks. His arm shook under the force, his muscles burning—not just from the impact, but from the divine energy being siphoned away. His mark was draining rapidly, feeding the enchantments woven into the shield, reinforcing its strength so that he could hold the line.

Behind him, Celeste was already moving. She threw the crates off the wagon without hesitation, making room for Beryn’s limp body. “He’s poisoned!” she shouted. “I’m losing him!”

The Krul, sensing the urgency, took off on its own, pulling the wagon at full speed down the labyrinth’s winding path. Roland didn’t have time to question where it was going—all he could do was fight.

The wolf lunged again, faster, more calculated. Roland barely raised his shield in time, deflecting the strike as he stumbled backward. Something was different now. This Veil-ling wasn’t just moving on instinct—it was thinking.

We’re being herded.

Roland knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. The beast wasn’t attacking to kill—it was guiding them, steering them toward something.

He risked a glance back and saw Celeste hunched over Beryn, her hands glowing as she poured everything she had into healing him. But her usual sharp focus was fraying. She was panicking.

Roland’s soul gaze flared, and the truth struck him like a hammer blow—Beryn was about to die.

His soul was moving on.

Roland didn’t understand why he acted, only that he did.

He reached out—not with his hands, but with something deeper.

And he grabbed it.

A force unlike anything he had ever felt pulsed through him. Soul Touch.

He had refused to use it before. The idea of interfering with something as sacred as the soul had felt wrong. Unnatural.

But now? Now he understood.

Celeste gasped as Beryn’s body jerked, his soul no longer slipping away. It was still there, tethered, giving her the time she so desperately needed.

She didn’t question it. She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself back into her work, whispering rapid prayers as she fought to neutralize the poison.

Roland held on, barely able to breathe, feeling the magnitude of what he was doing. Holding onto someone’s soul was like gripping a thread between life and death, every second stretching impossibly thin.

Then, without warning, the Veil-ling stopped.

The massive boss stood several paces away, its silver eyes locked onto him, no longer attacking.

It was watching.

Roland’s grip on Beryn’s soul faltered slightly, and still, the creature did nothing.

As if soul touch had given it pause.

The w tilted its head slightly, then—slowly—it backed away. Not retreating in fear. Not defeated but in caution.

Celeste let out a slow breath, her hands finally pulling away from Beryn’s chest. The golden glow of her healing faded, and his breathing evened out, no longer ragged and shallow.

Roland felt the tension in his body ease as he released Beryn’s soul, letting it settle back where it belonged. The strange sensation of holding onto something so intangible, yet so real, vanished, leaving behind only a dull exhaustion.

They both turned toward the boss Veil-ling.

The massive Veil-ling still stood motionless, its silver-fire eyes locked onto them. It had every opportunity to strike again, to finish what it started. But it didn’t. It simply watched.

Celeste was the first to break the silence. Her gaze flicked around the area. Her expression hardened.

“We’re trapped,” she muttered.

Roland tensed. “What?”

She pointed past the boss. “That’s the only exit from here.”

Roland followed her gaze. Beyond the massive creature, the path narrowed into a single passage—one way in, one way out.

And the boss was blocking it.