Luca’s breath caught as he moved away from the altar, his mind still reeling from the vision of his father’s words. He could still feel the weight of his father’s harsh rejection pressing down on his chest, but it was fading. For the first time, the sting didn’t seem so sharp. The shadow of his past was still there, but it didn’t have the power to control him anymore.

Mia walked ahead of him, her pace steady and sure as she scanned the surrounding woods. The path they were following grew narrower, the trees closing in, their trunks twisted and gnarled, as if they were guarding some ancient secret.

“You’re quiet,” Mia remarked over her shoulder, her voice breaking the silence. She had always been keenly observant, even when she didn’t seem to be paying attention.

Luca pushed the lingering doubts to the back of his mind. “Just thinking,” he replied, trying to make his voice sound casual.

Mia slowed her pace slightly, allowing Luca to catch up. “About your father?”

Luca stiffened, his hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t need to answer. Mia knew. She always seemed to know.

"I thought I'd let go of it," Luca said, his voice low, almost uncertain. "But when I saw that figure, it felt like I was back there, in that room again, hearing those words. I thought I was past it. But what if I'm not?"

Mia gave him a knowing look, one that seemed to pierce straight through the barriers Luca had built around himself. “You don’t get past something like that overnight, Luca. It’s not about erasing the past. It’s about learning how to live with it. You’ll face it again, and again. But each time, you’ll be a little stronger. That’s the point of the Trial of Memory.”

Luca nodded, but the doubt gnawed at him. He had to admit, Mia’s words were starting to sink in. He wasn’t alone in this journey. He had someone to rely on, someone who knew how to deal with the pain that the trials unearthed. But even so, there was a part of him that felt like a failure for still being so affected by the past.

They continued walking, the forest growing denser as they moved deeper. The air felt heavier, and Luca noticed the silence around them. It was unnatural. There was no rustling of leaves, no chirping of birds—only the sound of their footsteps crunching on the dry earth. The atmosphere seemed charged with a quiet intensity, and Luca couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for them.

Then, as if summoned by his thoughts, a shadow moved in the distance.

A figure, tall and cloaked in black, stepped out from between the trees. Its face was obscured by a hood, but Luca could feel its gaze on him, like a cold wind brushing against his skin. It didn’t move, just stood there, watching them.

Mia immediately took a defensive stance, her hand on the hilt of her bow. “Stay behind me,” she murmured, her voice low and steady.

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Luca instinctively stepped forward, but Mia caught his arm. “No. Stay back.”

The figure remained silent, not speaking, only watching. It felt as though the world had stopped, as if the forest itself had ceased to breathe. Luca could feel the weight of its presence, something ancient and powerful, pressing down on him.

“Who are you?” Mia asked, her voice firm despite the unease in her stance.

The figure tilted its head slightly, and its voice came—low, like the wind howling through cracks in the earth. “I am the keeper of memories. I am what you refuse to confront. The Trial is not only in your past, Luca, but in your present and your future.”

Luca’s chest tightened. The voice, cold and accusing, was like a knife to his heart. It was as if his father’s words had taken form before him. The keeper of memories—an embodiment of his doubts, his fears, the things he hadn’t yet dealt with.

"What do you want?" Luca asked, his voice tight, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

The figure didn’t answer immediately. It only stepped forward, and Luca instinctively took a step back. But the figure didn’t move closer—it only hovered in the air, like a shadow refusing to fully manifest.

"I am not here to fight you," the figure intoned. "I am here to remind you. The past is never far behind. Until you face it, it will always follow."

Luca’s mind whirled. He didn’t know what to make of this new threat, but his instincts screamed at him to move. The air around him seemed to thicken, heavy with the tension of what was to come. He reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, the figure lunged.

A burst of shadow enveloped the figure, and it struck like lightning, its form rippling through the air. Mia’s arrows flew, but they passed through the figure without effect, vanishing like wisps of smoke.

“Luca! Move!” Mia shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.

The figure was a blur of darkness, its form impossible to track. But Luca didn’t panic. Instead, he focused on the space around him, honing his senses. The figure was attacking, but it wasn’t attacking in a normal way—it was attacking his mind, his emotions.

Luca felt the weight of his father’s words again. “You’re weak,” the voice whispered in his ear, “You’ll never be enough.”

It was almost too much—too familiar, too painful. His father’s rejection haunted him like a ghost, and for a moment, he thought he might crumble under the weight of it.

But then Mia’s voice cut through the fog. “Luca, don’t let it control you! You control it!”

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. The figure wasn’t just an enemy to fight. It was his doubt, his fear, his insecurities given form. It wasn’t real—it was a manifestation of his past, something he had to confront and overcome.

Luca closed his eyes for a split second and took a deep breath, grounding himself in the present. He stopped reacting. Instead, he focused. He observed the figure’s movements, the way it shifted in the air.

When it lunged again, Luca was ready. He raised his sword in a smooth motion, cutting through the shadow as it reached for him. For a moment, the figure writhed in the air, and then it shattered into a cloud of mist.

The silence that followed was deafening. The forest around them seemed to breathe again, and the oppressive weight lifted from the air. The figure was gone.

Luca stood there, his sword still in hand, his breath coming in heavy gasps. His chest ached with the effort, but his mind was clearer than it had been in days. He had faced his past, and he had chosen to move forward.

Mia walked over to him, her eyes soft with approval. “You did it. You faced the shadow of your past.”

Luca looked at her, the weight of the trial sinking in. “But... it’s not over, is it?”

Mia shook her head, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. “No, it’s not. But you’re stronger for it. And that’s what matters.”

Luca looked at his sword, then back at the path ahead. The road was long. But for the first time, he felt ready to walk it.