Luca’s steps were measured now, each footfall deliberate as they ventured deeper into the forest. The air here felt different—heavier, somehow. It pressed against his chest, as though the very atmosphere knew something he didn’t. Mia was ahead of him, her longbow slung across her back, eyes scanning the shadows that seemed to lengthen with every step. She moved as quietly as a shadow herself, but Luca was still getting used to this part of the journey: walking through dangerous lands with someone who knew more than he did, who had more experience than he could ever dream of. It made him feel small, despite his growing strength.

"You’re quiet today," Mia remarked without turning around. Her voice was even, but there was a note of curiosity in it, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Luca slowed his pace, shifting his gaze from the darkening trees to the sky overhead, now streaked with the fading orange of twilight. "Just... thinking."

"About your past, no doubt," Mia said, her tone more knowing than he expected.

Luca’s stomach tightened. "What makes you say that?"

Mia glanced over her shoulder at him now. Her eyes were softer than usual, as though she could see the tangled mess of thoughts swirling behind his eyes. "The Trials are designed to force you to confront the things you’d rather forget. You’re walking a path that will lead you to a reckoning with yourself. There’s no avoiding it."

Luca swallowed, a dull ache forming in his chest. The idea of facing the things he’d left behind, of revisiting the pain he’d buried so deep... It terrified him. But Mia was right. No matter how far he ran, the past always had a way of catching up with him.

"I’m not sure I’m ready," Luca admitted quietly. The confession felt strange, slipping from his lips like a secret he hadn’t even known he was keeping.

Mia smiled, though it wasn’t a comforting smile. "None of us are. But you don’t have to be ‘ready’ to face what’s coming. You just have to face it. And choose how you move forward."

The forest around them grew quieter as they walked. The usual sounds of wildlife had all but disappeared. It felt as though they were moving deeper into a void, away from the normal world and into something older, more primal. The trees grew taller, their trunks twisted in unnatural ways, as though they had once been something else—something that had been twisted by time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of walking in silence, they reached a clearing. The trees here parted to reveal a stone altar, ancient and weathered by centuries of neglect. In the middle of the clearing, the altar was surrounded by shallow pools of water, the surface still and reflective like glass. At the center of the altar, a carved symbol glowed faintly in the twilight—an intricate design that seemed to shift and change with every blink.

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Luca felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn’t just any place. This was sacred ground. The Trial of Memory.

"This is where it begins," Mia said, her voice a little quieter now. "Step forward, Luca. The Trial won’t wait forever."

Luca took a deep breath and approached the altar, the ground soft beneath his boots. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat seeming louder than the last. He didn’t know what to expect, but he had a feeling that whatever happened here would shape him in ways he couldn’t yet understand.

When he reached the altar, the glowing symbol shifted, expanding outward until it was a swirling mass of light, pulling him in, drawing him closer. He instinctively reached for it, and as his fingers touched the cool surface, a flood of memories rushed at him.

The world around him blurred, twisting and reforming like a tapestry being unraveled. He felt himself falling backward, weightless and disoriented, until the world suddenly snapped into focus.

He was a child again.

The room was small, the furniture worn and simple, but it was home. His father was sitting at the table, his back to him, shoulders hunched as he worked over something Luca couldn’t quite see. The air was thick with the smell of bread baking, the fire crackling in the hearth.

"Dad?" Luca’s voice was small, tentative.

His father turned around slowly, his face drawn and tired. There was a bitterness in his eyes that Luca hadn’t seen before. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, the silence between them stretched, suffocating and heavy. Luca had always tried to understand why his father had been so distant, so cold. Why he had never truly looked at him with the same warmth he’d seen in other fathers.

Finally, his father spoke, but the words were like daggers. "You’re just like your mother. Weak. Incompetent."

Luca froze, the pain of the words sinking deep into his chest. His hands began to shake, and his young self stepped back, as though the sting of those words would push him away. His father stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor.

"You’ll never amount to anything. Not with that attitude. You’ll always be a disappointment."

The world around Luca spun again, and suddenly he was back in the clearing, his breath coming in short gasps. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the image of his father’s cruel words. The air felt thick with the weight of them. They had followed him his entire life, had shaped everything about him—every decision, every doubt.

Mia was watching him from the edge of the clearing. Her expression was unreadable. "That was your first memory," she said quietly. "The one that shaped who you became."

Luca's voice was tight as he spoke. "Why... why did he say that? What did I do to make him think that?"

Mia’s expression softened, though her eyes remained focused. "Sometimes, Luca, people say things out of their own pain. Your father wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was hurting himself. But that doesn’t mean you need to carry the weight of his words forever."

Luca closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. "I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to carry that anymore."

Mia nodded, her gaze understanding. "Then let it go. The past doesn’t define who you are. You do."

For a long moment, Luca stood in silence, letting the words sink in. Slowly, the weight of the memory began to lessen. He didn’t have to be his father’s disappointment. He could be more than that.

When he opened his eyes, the clearing seemed different—less oppressive, more open. The symbol on the altar flickered, fading, as if it had fulfilled its purpose.

"Are you ready to continue?" Mia asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Luca took a deep breath, standing a little taller than before. "Yeah. Let’s keep going."