Celeste watched as Fang bounded off into the distance, his massive white form disappearing into the wilderness with surprising speed. She gave a soft, satisfied hum before turning back to Roland.

"Come on," she said with a warm smile, gesturing toward the entrance of the temple. "Let's get inside. You must be exhausted, and I think we need to talk."

Roland followed her, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened so quickly. As they entered the cool, quiet interior of the temple, Celeste motioned for him to sit. The place was sparse, yet there was a strange sense of peace that lingered in the air—ancient stone walls, weathered and worn by time, still stood strong, and faint light from the outside filtered through cracked windows.

Celeste took a seat across from him, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?" she said, her voice a soft melody. "But I think there’s something we need to clear up first."

Roland said nothing, but his gaze was sharp, his mind focused. He knew he needed answers—and soon.

Celeste tilted her head as she leaned closer, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m sure you’re curious about why Sir Geld gave you that badge.” She glanced down at the item still clutched in Roland’s hand. “It’s not just some keepsake. It’s a Veil Keeper’s badge.”

Roland frowned, confused. “A Veil Keeper’s badge?”

Celeste nodded, the edges of her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Yes. Veil Keepers are people who control access to the Veil. They are the guardians of the gates between this world and the others. They can open or close the Veil, but for reasons we will talk about once you take the oath they can only do so if they have both a Motherborn and a Worldborn working together." She paused, her eyes studying him intently. "That's where you come in."

Roland’s brow furrowed, the weight of her words pressing on him. “And why would Sir Geld have given this to me?”

Celeste leaned back, folding her arms as she regarded him carefully. "Because, Roland, he trusted you." Her gaze softened. "He didn’t just give anyone that badge. Only someone he believed in would be worthy of it. He told me himself, that if he couldn’t make it you’re the one he trusted most."

Roland stayed silent, but the confusion lingered. “I don’t understand. I’m not a Veil Keeper. I’m just… a knight. A soldier.”

Celeste's laugh was light, almost musical, but there was a deeper, more serious edge to it. "You think being a soldier means you're not worthy of this? No, Roland. It means you're already on the path. It means that even if you didn’t ask for this, you were chosen by fate."

Before Roland could respond, she gave a playful tilt of her head. “But if you’re going to keep poking around with that ‘gift’ of yours, you might want to warn me next time.”

Roland blinked, not understanding.

"I’m talking about your ability to see souls," Celeste clarified, her smile now teasing. "You were staring at mine like I was some kind of specimen. I know you didn’t mean any harm, but it’s a little rude, don’t you think?" Her tone was light, but her eyes held a quiet seriousness. “Some Motherborn might not take kindly to it.”

Roland's cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the reprimand. He hadn’t meant to be disrespectful, but he couldn’t help himself. His gift was powerful, but it was also invasive, and sometimes he couldn’t control the impulse to understand what lay beneath the surface. He hadn’t discovered much. Her soul was nearly blinding but contained some cracks as well. He had never seen anything like it but he wasn’t sure if that was normal for Motherborns or unique to Celeste.

Celeste noticed his discomfort and smiled warmly, easing the tension. “It’s alright, Roland. Just be mindful of it next time. It’s a sensitive thing, especially when you’re dealing with others of my kind.”

With a quick motion, she reached for a nearby table and retrieved a small flask. She poured two cups of a warm, amber liquid and handed one to Roland. “Here, this should help you relax. I know it’s been a lot to take in.”

He took the cup, the warmth spreading through his fingers as he held it. The liquid had a subtle, earthy taste, calming his nerves. Celeste watched him take a sip before continuing.

“As for the badge,” she said, more serious now, “It’s not just a symbol of trust from Sir Geld. It means something else. You see, the Veil Keepers are a rare group, chosen to control the gates between worlds. The gods take this role very seriously. They require you to bet your life on it”

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Roland listened intently, his gaze unwavering. This was the heart of it—the true nature of the task ahead.

Celeste’s voice softened with a touch of nostalgia. “I worked with Sir Geld when he was younger. He was one of my mother’s favourites, you know. He had a unique bond with her, a connection that made him invaluable to the cause. But that was a long time ago. Now, it seems his part in this has come to an end.” Their eyes met; the gravity of the situation became apparent. “And now, Roland, it’s your turn. It’s up to you.”

Roland set his cup down, his mind racing. The implications of everything she said were vast, and his role in it all felt heavier by the moment. He had come here to deliver a simple package, to carry out a final duty for Sir Geld. But now, the world seemed to have grown much larger.

Celeste’s expression shifted as she glanced at Roland, her tone becoming more serious once again. “Before we can go any further,” she said, standing up and walking toward the door, “you’ll need to bind with the badge. You can’t move forward without it. It’s part of the process. You’ll have to swear an Oath to your guardian god. Mortana, in your case.”

Roland frowned, but he didn’t question her. He had learned by now that the path he was on was fraught with steps he didn’t fully understand, and this was just another one.

Celeste paused at the door, her hand resting on the frame as she glanced back at him. “I can’t tell you what the Oath will be,” she continued, her voice softer. “It’s unique for every Keeper. It’s a private moment—your moment. Just ask for Mortana’s help, and she’ll guide you. You’ll know when the time comes.”

With a final, reassuring smile, she left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Roland sat still for a moment, alone in the quiet space. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew the ritual was important. He reached down, carefully picking up the badge Sir Geld had entrusted to him, the weight of it still heavy in his hands.

He set the badge on the table before him, the flickering light from the temple’s small fire casting long shadows across the room. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. This wasn’t just about the mission. It was about more than that. It was about an Oath—a promise he would make, a bond with Mortana herself.

He whispered softly to the stillness, his voice steady despite the doubt that swirled in his chest. “Mortana, goddess of endings, I ask for your guidance. Help me now, as I bind myself to this cause.”

A strange stillness settled around him, and Roland felt a subtle shift in the air. It wasn’t a voice, but something deeper, something more intimate. He began to see images in his mind’s eye—visions, like pictures unfolding before him.

The images came fast and brutal, flashing like memories from another time. He saw battles—vast, horrific clashes that felt older than the earth itself. Motherborn of all types—Lightborn, Darkborn, Lifeborn—locked in combat with one another, their powers clashing like titanic storms. And then there were the colossal monsters, enormous and terrifying, tearing through the battlefield with destructive force. Roland felt his heart race as the images shifted—more battles, more carnage, more conflict.

The message was clear: The Veil had once been used for war. The Keepers had failed, wielding their power recklessly. The same power he was about to inherit.

His mind struggled to comprehend the full weight of the vision, but the core of it was undeniable: His Oath had to be about something different. It couldn’t be about war or power or destruction. It had to be about peace. It had to be about ensuring that the power of the Veil, and the abilities it granted, would never again be used to tear the world apart.

He swallowed hard, the images still vivid in his mind. He understood now what his Oath would be. His skills were not for aggression. They were for guiding those who needed peace—for ensuring that the Veil was closed to violence and opened only when necessary. For bringing peaceful passage to those whose time had come, just as Mortana herself had always done.

With a deep breath, Roland closed his eyes and steadied his mind. The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on him, and he knew the words he was about to swear would bind him to a path he could not walk back from. This Oath was not just a promise; it was a covenant that would define the rest of his life. He knew that failure to live up to the Oath would lead to his death.

He spoke the words in his heart, not needing to voice them aloud, for they echoed in his soul as if they had always been there, waiting for him to accept them.

"I swear, Mortana, to use the power entrusted to me only in pursuit of peace. I will open the Veil only to those who seek harmony, and I will bar its path to any who would use it for war, for destruction, or for chaos. I will keep the secrets of the Veil from those who have not sworn the Oath of the Keepers, for its knowledge is not for the unworthy. I will guard it with my strength, my will, and my heart. And I will ensure that no corruption ever again finds its way through the gates.”

His heart thudded in his chest, and the words of the Oath sank deep into his very being. The image of the battles, the colossal monsters, the broken Keepers of the past—everything he had seen—seemed to settle inside him, part of him now. He knew it was not enough to just say the words. He had to live them.

Roland opened his eyes slowly, feeling a shift within him, as if the Oath had truly taken root in his soul. It was more than a promise. It was the foundation of everything that would follow. And he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that his path was now set in stone.

He looked around, a faint dizziness creeping in as he tried to shake off the intensity of the experience. His body still felt heavy, like he had run for miles in a dream. He turned toward the table, reaching for the drink Celeste had given him earlier, desperate for something to steady himself.

The amber liquid burned as it went down, but it helped. His mind was still racing, trying to make sense of everything he had just seen and felt. The weight of the Oath settled into his chest, a responsibility he could no longer deny.

Roland sat back, staring at the badge before him. It was no longer just a symbol of Sir Geld’s trust. It was a part of him now—a part of the oath he had sworn, of the path he was bound to walk.

And with it, his future had been set into motion.