The forest around them thickened as Elias and Lucan moved deeper into the shadows. The trees grew tall and ancient, their branches twisting into grotesque shapes against the pale moonlight. An unnatural silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft crunch of leaves beneath their boots.
Lucan's voice dropped to a whisper. "This is the Whispering Woods. Few dare to enter, for it is where the Wraiths gather strength."
Elias's heart pounded. The stories he'd heard about these woods—voices that lured travelers into the darkness, spirits that fed on fear—felt suddenly real.
"Why bring me here?" Elias asked, glancing nervously around.
"To train," Lucan replied. "You must learn to hear the whispers without falling prey to them. Control your fear, or it will consume you."
Ahead, a faint glow pulsed between the trees. As they approached, shadowy figures flickered at the edge of Elias's vision—ghostly shapes that seemed to watch, waiting.
Lucan stopped and faced him. "Close your eyes. Listen."
Elias obeyed. At first, all he heard was the wind. Then whispers began—soft, cruel, seductive. They spoke his name, dredging up his deepest doubts and regrets.
"Not strong enough… You will fail… You are alone…"
Pain and fear gnawed at his mind, but Elias clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe steadily.
"You can fight it," Lucan's voice steadied him. "Focus on your mark. Let it be your anchor."
Slowly, the whispers faded, replaced by a growing warmth from the mark on his arm. The fear dissolved into a burning resolve.
When Elias opened his eyes, the shadows recoiled. The Wraiths hissed and vanished into the dark.
Lucan nodded approvingly. "You survived your first encounter. But this is only the beginning. The line between friend and foe blurs here."
Elias swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the battle ahead—but for the first time, he was ready.
—