The night after the dragon's departure was quiet, too quiet for comfort. Lioren sat by a flickering campfire, his cloak draped over his shoulders. The orb rested on a flat stone in front of him, glowing faintly like an ember. Its pulse had slowed, but each throb sent a faint ripple of energy into the air.
Rattle sat a few feet away, poking the fire with a stick. So, Master, are we going to talk about the part where a giant dragon called you its heir, or are we just pretending that was a strange dream?
Lioren looked into the flames. I am not sure it matters. The moment I touched the orb, my path was sealed.
Rattle tilted his head. You keep saying things like that, and I am starting to miss the days when I only worried about tripping over my own bones.
Lioren's lips curved slightly. You were clumsy even when you were alive, I imagine.
Hey, I was a knight. A proud one. The fact that I died by accidentally tripping over a cursed sword is irrelevant.
Lioren gave a faint chuckle, though his gaze never left the orb. It began to pulse faster, as if reacting to his amusement. He frowned slightly. The air around them shimmered, and faint whispers began to echo through the forest.
Rattle froze. Tell me you hear that too.
Lioren stood slowly. The whispers grew clearer, ancient words spoken in a language long forgotten. He recognized none of it, yet the meaning pressed into his mind like soft fingers. The words called his name.
Lioren.
The voice was not one but many, layered and echoing through his head. The world around him dimmed, and the firelight twisted into a swirling void. The orb rose from the ground, floating in the air.
Rattle's voice faded. Master? Are you still here?
Lioren found himself standing in a vast, endless plain of bones. The sky above was dark purple, streaked with red veins of light. The ground cracked with every step. The air was heavy with silence.
He looked down and realized he could see faint tendrils of energy wrapping around his hands. The orb floated before him, now bright enough to cast long shadows.
Then the voice spoke again, stronger this time. You seek mastery over death. You hold the heart of the Dragon King. But power demands understanding.
Lioren took a steady breath. Then teach me.
The ground trembled. From the bone field rose shapes — tall, faceless figures cloaked in black mist. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly. They circled him like predators testing prey.
The voice spoke again. Each of these beings once served death. To command them, you must prove that you are stronger than they were.
Lioren clenched his fists. Very well.
The first figure lunged forward, moving faster than any human could. Lioren barely raised his arm in time, summoning a shield of bone to block the strike. The force sent him stumbling backward. The impact cracked the ground beneath his feet.
He retaliated with a burst of necrotic energy, sending skeletal spikes from the earth. The shadow figure shattered, dissolving into dust. Another came from behind, its hands reaching for his throat. Lioren ducked and swept his arm outward, commanding the bones around him to form a blade. The weapon sang through the air, cutting through the figure.
The orb pulsed faster, its rhythm syncing with his heartbeat. Each kill fed the glow until it began to envelop him completely. He felt stronger, sharper, but also something else — the faint burn of loss, as if each strike drained a part of his humanity.
The final shadow stood motionless, its presence heavier than the others combined. It raised one hand, and the world around them grew cold. The whispering stopped entirely.
Lioren stepped forward. I am not afraid of you.
The shadow smiled. Then prove it.
It moved with impossible speed, striking him across the chest. Pain flared through him, though his body did not bleed. He felt the orb react instantly, sending a surge of energy through his veins. Bones rose from the ground, wrapping around his arms and chest like armor.
He countered with a roar, his voice echoing across the void. The bone armor glowed faintly blue. He charged forward, slashing through the mist. The figure resisted, pushing back with waves of dark energy.
Lioren tightened his grip on his bone blade and whispered, Serve me.
The orb pulsed one last time, brighter than the sun. The shadow froze, then dissolved into ash.
When the light faded, Lioren stood alone again. The orb drifted down to his hand, now calm and steady. The voice returned, quieter this time. You have learned the first truth. Power is not taken. It is endured.
The world shattered around him, and the forest returned. The fire was nearly out, and Rattle was pacing nervously.
Master! You were just standing there like a statue. I almost buried you.
Lioren blinked, feeling the weight of exhaustion sink in. The orb lay quiet in his palm, its light faint. Yet deep within, he could feel something had changed. His aura felt denser, darker, and the whispers had vanished completely.
Rattle crossed his arms. So, what happened this time? You talked to the dragon again, met some dead gods, or adopted more ghostly pets?
Lioren smiled faintly. I passed a test.
Rattle groaned. Every time you pass a test, I lose another piece of my sanity.
Lioren looked toward the horizon, where the first light of dawn crept over the trees. His breath steadied, and for the first time, the forest no longer felt hostile. The orb had quieted. The voices were gone. Only a faint sense of anticipation remained.
He whispered softly. Then let the next trial come.
Rattle muttered under his breath. You say that like you want it to happen.
Lioren smiled. Perhaps I do.
As the sun rose higher, the shadows retreated, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and magic. The forest was alive again, unaware that a new power had awakened within it.