The forest thinned as the group pressed forward, but the tension refused to dissipate. James could feel it lingering in the air, an oppressive weight that seemed to grow heavier with every step.

Rook led the way, his grip firm on his axe, his eyes scanning the shadows. Behind him, Derrin carried the child, his expression tight with worry. Vance followed close behind, occasionally glancing over his shoulder as though expecting the forest to lash out at them once more.

James trudged at the rear, his mind racing. The shard in his pocket felt cold now, lifeless compared to the burst of energy it had released earlier.

“What do you think it was?” Derrin asked, his voice breaking the silence.

James hesitated. “The shard? I don’t know. It… reacted. Like it knew what to do.”

“More like it chose to do it,” Vance muttered, his tone edged with unease. “That thing has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” James admitted. He didn’t like the idea, but there was no denying that the shard seemed to possess some kind of will.

Rook stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. “Quiet.”

Everyone froze, their ears straining to catch whatever had alerted him. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, a sound began to filter through the trees.

It was soft at first, barely audible. But as it grew louder, it became unmistakable: whispering.

James’ blood ran cold. The voices were indistinct, overlapping in a chaotic chorus that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Does anyone else hear that?” Derrin asked, his voice tight.

Rook nodded grimly. “It’s the Veil.”

“The Veil?” Vance asked, his eyes wide. “You’re saying the Veil is… talking to us?”

“Not to us,” Rook replied. “About us.”

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The whispers grew louder, swirling around them like a living thing. James caught fragments of words, disjointed and incomprehensible: shard… hunger… broken… shadows.

“It knows we’re here,” Rook continued, his voice low. “Keep moving. Don’t stop, no matter what you hear.”

The group moved quickly, their steps hurried but cautious. The whispers followed them, growing louder with each passing moment. James tried to block them out, but the words seemed to burrow into his mind, clawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Then, a single voice rose above the rest, clear and distinct.

“James.”

He froze.

“James?” Derrin asked, stopping to look back at him.

James shook his head, his heart pounding. “It… it said my name.”

“Don’t listen to it,” Rook snapped, his tone sharp. “It’s trying to get inside your head. Keep moving.”

But the voice spoke again, louder this time.

“James Forsyth. Heir of a broken line.”

James’ blood turned to ice. The voice was different from the others—deeper, more deliberate. It wasn’t just a fragment of the chaos. It was directed at him.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“No,” Derrin replied, his brow furrowed. “Hear what?”

“They can’t hear me,” the voice said, almost mocking. “But you can. You, who carry the shard. You, who tread the Veil’s path.”

James’ hand instinctively went to his pocket, gripping the shard through the fabric. “What do you want?” he whispered.

“James, who are you talking to?” Derrin asked, his concern evident.

“To warn you,” the voice continued, ignoring the others. “The shard is not a gift. It is a burden. A curse. And it will consume you, as it has consumed others before you.”

“Who are you?” James demanded, his voice rising.

“James, stop,” Rook said, stepping closer. “Don’t engage with it.”

“I am the Veil’s shadow,” the voice replied. “I am what you will become, should you fail.”

Before James could respond, the whispers swelled to a deafening crescendo, drowning out all other sound. He clutched his head, the noise like nails driving into his skull.

“James!” Derrin shouted, grabbing his arm.

The whispers cut off abruptly, leaving behind an eerie silence. James staggered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Are you okay?” Derrin asked, his grip firm on James’ arm.

“I’m fine,” James lied, straightening up. “Let’s just keep moving.”

Rook gave him a hard look but said nothing, turning to lead the group forward once more.

As they continued through the forest, James couldn’t shake the words of the voice. A burden. A curse.

What did it mean? And why had it spoken to him?

Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: the Veil wasn’t just a passive force. It was watching, waiting, and it wasn’t done with him yet.

And as the trees began to thin, revealing the faint outline of a settlement in the distance, James couldn’t help but wonder if they were walking straight into its trap.