Kael stared at the opening of the Gate of the Veil. It now emanated a deep blue light, almost like the darkest ocean, and an unsettling silence that seemed to swallow every sound. It wasn't the silence of oblivion, but a heavy silence—the kind that wraps around you when you are completely alone.
He felt a sting in his chest, the echo of a loneliness he knew all too well.
The Veil of Isolation: the absence of any connection, the fear of being utterly abandoned.
This was the enemy he would face.
Anya stepped beside him, her expression solemn.
"This Veil is deceitful, Kael. It won't attack you with monsters or illusions. It will try to make you feel completely alone, cut off from everything. It will show you that there's no one to rely on, that your bonds are fragile. The key is to remember your connections—your community. Your Sleeping Flame is your tether. Don't let it fade."
Lyra clasped her hands tightly, her silver eyes fixed on the opening.
"Loneliness is a feeling, Kael, not a truth. Even when you feel alone, there is always an invisible thread tying you to others. Think of us, of the Deep Foundations, of your mission. Think of Elara. Those are your threads."
Kael smiled faintly and sighed, thinking—as he always did before facing a Veil—of his Dream Garden. It had become a ritual of comfort and grounding. The sturdy hearth at its center pulsed with warmth, and the golden roots had spread widely, anchoring the soil. The crystalline green gem had grown larger, and the small sprout with its first leaves had strengthened.
These were his bonds—his strength.
He stepped into the opening. The air pulled him inward, but this time the sensation was disarmingly light, as if every connection had been severed. He felt his body grow almost transparent, and all surrounding sounds vanished. It was the deepest silence he had ever known—a silence that resonated in his bones.
Kael floated in an endless, black void, dotted only with tiny, distant stars of cold light. There was no up or down, no left or right—only the vastness of nothing. He tried to look around, but there was nothing to see. No echoes. No boundaries.
This was the cosmos of isolation.
He tried to shout, but no sound followed.
His voice was gone, swallowed whole by the void.
He suddenly felt small—insignificant—a grain of dust in an indifferent universe. The golden flame in his palm flickered, thin and fragile. He felt his bonds unraveling, threads fraying one by one. The memories of Anya, Lyra, Elian… grew faint, distant—voices he could no longer hear. His mission… felt absurd, meaningless.
He was alone.
Completely alone.
A shape began to materialize out of the darkness, like a shadow slowly condensing. A woman—tall and slender—draped in a cloak of pure darkness that absorbed even the distant starlight. Her eyes were two bottomless wells, devoid of emotion, yet her gaze was piercing, as though she saw through Kael's soul.
She was Solara, Guardian of Isolation, the embodiment of the deepest loneliness.
"There is no one for you, Keeper," her voice echoed in Kael's mind—a whisper so deep it seemed to rise from the void itself, devoid of warmth, devoid of hope.
"Your bonds are illusions. They will abandon you. Everyone does. You will be alone. Always. This is your fate. Accept it."
Kael felt his heart tighten.
Her words were so convincing.
The loneliness he had felt after losing Elara came crashing back, magnified a hundredfold. It was as if everyone he cared for was letting him go, one after another. His mind searched desperately for something— a face, a voice, a name—but found only hollow silence.
All the times he had been hurt, and his parents weren't there…
All the times his friends had left him out when he was a child…
Every moment he wasn't understood, and others turned their backs…
The day Elara stopped answering, leaving him alone…
The moments Uncle Borin's words couldn't change anything, and Borin had to leave anyway…
The times his help had been rejected, and people walked away…
The times he had needed help and no one came…
All the silent crying, hidden from everyone…
Alone.
A crushing sadness consumed him, a heavy stone pressing against his stomach, his eyes swelling with tears ready to spill.
He bit his lip, trying not to cry, as the bite of loneliness grew sharper and sharper.
But then—an echo.
Not a voice, not an image.
A feeling.
Then another.
The warmth of Anya's hand on his shoulder.
Lyra's contagious enthusiasm.
Elian's words.
His uncle's stubbornness.
The joy of the villagers when they saw him, the rare compliments from Borin, the times a girl's gaze lingered on him a bit too long, meals shared with his uncle, the village festivals of Aris…
And above all, Elara's crystalline laughter—no longer a wound, but a symbol of connection.
The Sleeping Flame in his chest, though faint, did not extinguish.
It was a flame of belonging—of bond.
It was his essence, something The Ash could never sever.
It was his network of roots—firm, unbreakable.
Kael clung to that heartbeat.
He didn't force his connections back.
He let his Sleeping Flame guide him.
He felt the little sprout in his Dream Garden pulse—life growing not in isolation, but nourished by its roots.
He reached out toward Solara, his golden flame trembling in his hand.
He did it to reconnect.
The lesson from the Sanctuary: find the memory, the suffering.
The lesson from the Veil of Oblivion: give an anchor point.
When his hand brushed Solara's form, Kael felt the cold of isolation—but ignored it. He felt his mind wrapped by a wave of disconnect—of emptiness—but he held onto his Sleeping Flame. He let it burn like an invisible knot, an indestructible point of connection.
And then, he sensed something unexpected.
A faint, almost imperceptible echo of longing from Solara.
Not anger.
Not pain.
But sadness—deep, aching sadness—of someone who could no longer connect, trapped in her own self-imposed solitude.
This was the true Solara—one who longed for a bond but had forgotten how to form one.
She wasn't evil.
She was just alone.
Alone… forever…
Solara's whisper echoed in Kael's mind, this time tinged with heartbreaking resignation.
"No," Kael replied, and this time his voice resonated in the void.
He didn't try to restore Solara's bonds—he couldn't.
But he could offer a thread.
"You are not alone. You never were. Your bonds are only buried. And I… I am here. With you."
As Kael spoke, the flame in his palm expanded—not to burn, but to weave. He projected his Sleeping Flame into countless tiny golden threads that extended outward and touched Solara's form.
Not attacks.
Bridges.
Kael felt a connection—fragile but real.
It wasn't a battle.
It was a tapestry.
Solara's form flickered.
Her empty eyes trembled, and for a brief moment, Kael saw sparks—small blue stars—glitter in their depths like newborn constellations. Proof that Solara was still there, trapped but not broken.
The absolute darkness began to ripple.
Kael felt something pull him—not violently, but gently.
The void opened—not as a crack, but as a deep chasm—from which flowed a warmer light and the subtle scent of moist earth and living leaves.
Solara screamed, "And now you leave too! You leave me alone—again!"
Guilt struck Kael.
He couldn't stay…
But he didn't want to abandon her either.
In a way, she was right.
Then, the exit.
He had crossed the Veil of Isolation.
His bonds were all there—stronger than ever, as if welded by fire.
Anya and Lyra stood close, smiling as they helped him through the first moments of disorientation that always followed emerging from a Veil.
"Kael," Lyra said, "we felt your connection… You wove threads in the void!"
Anya leaned closer, her gaze warm.
"You passed the Veil of Isolation, Kael. You proved that even the deepest loneliness can't break your heart. You gave Solara a taste of what she lost. It's incredible."
Kael lifted his head. He felt light, despite his exhaustion.
His Sleeping Flame was now a vivid, steady blaze—a true hearth pulsing at the center of his chest, radiating warmth and connection. In his Dream Garden, the flame had grown stronger, and the golden roots had woven into an intricate web that covered nearly all the soil.
The crystalline green gem was larger now, shining like a small beacon. And the plant with its first leaves had become a sturdy young sprout with a delicate bud beginning to form. His flame had nurtured not only his resilience but also the hope of something new.
Master Elian approached, his expression filled with hope and deep respect.
"You have crossed the Veil of Isolation, Kael. And you restored a connection with Solara that even The Ash could not fully sever. This is a power we haven't seen in eons."
"Master Elian," Kael said.
He paused, tilting his head slightly before continuing.
"The next Veil is the last one, isn't it?"
Elian nodded gravely.
"Yes."
He pointed to the chasm within the Gate of the Veil, now glowing with a violet light and a pull that felt irresistible—almost hypnotic.
"It is the Veil of Obsession. There you will face what consumes you—your manias, your most burning and unattainable desires. It will be a trial of control and discernment. And Solara will be waiting, ready to twist your obsessions into your prison."
Kael narrowed his eyes, staring at the Gate.
His greatest obsession these past months had been the desire to bring back Elara—his only reason to keep going.
He had clung to that desire with all his strength.
It was his greatest motivation—and his greatest potential weakness.
But then he looked at Anya, Lyra, and Elian, and felt the golden threads of connection. And he sensed the budding flower in his Dream Garden.
It wasn't just an obsession.
It was also hope.
Would The Ash use his strongest obsession against him?
Or choose a different, unpredictable strategy to imprison him?
.
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