In a hunt for the enthusiast

The warriors from the Wraithwood formed an unspoken circle. Painted masks obscured their features, but their eyes were fixed on us. Their leader was imposing and mysterious all at once, gesturing for us to step into the center. The faint drumbeats that had guided us here faded into an expectant hush.

"We have seen your strength," the leader said, voice like wind through dry leaves. "But strength without honor is a blade with no edge. There is one final test."

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of the forest around us. Lira's hand drifted to her sword hilt, her eyes narrowing. "What kind of test?"

The leader did not answer. Instead, they raised one arm, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. My breath caught. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his face partially obscured by dark hair—but I knew that face.

It was Anden.

Anden, who had died at the first siege of the Blackwood Legion. Anden, my closest friend.

He was walking toward me, his eyes empty and far away, like the shell of a man in some kind of trance. I could hear Tarek whisper, "Is it really him?"

"It can't be," I said softly, my heart racing. "It's impossible."

The leader spoke once again, their voice void of expression. "This forest draws on the past. Echoes of those lost still linger here. You must face your ghost, or be consumed by it."

His eyes fastened to mine, and for that second, I felt a brief recognition or was it accusatory? He pulled forth a crude blade from somewhere; this appeared to be hewn together of bone and shadow.

"Why?" he said in his detached, hollow voice, "Why did you leave me?

"I didn't—" I began, but my voice trailed off. The memory of that night washed over me like a wave. The chaos of the battlefield, the shouts and screams, the moment I had to choose between saving him or leading the rest of our men to safety.

He had been trapped. I had made the choice. And he had died.

Anden raised his weapon, and I barely had time to draw mine before he attacked. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back, his strength far greater than it should have been.

"This isn't real," I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as the others.

"Feels real enough," Tarek said, moving to help, but the leader raised a hand, stopping him.

This is his trial," the leader said. "Interfere, and you all fail."

Lira reached out to grasp Tarek's arm, holding him back. "We have to trust him."

Anden came at me again, his strikes relentless. I parried, but each blow forced me further back, closer to the edge of the clearing. The whispers of the forest grew louder, swirling around me like a storm.

You let me die," Anden's voice echoed, mixing with the wind. "You chose to live."

"I didn't have a choice!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "I had to lead the others. If I'd stayed, we'd all be dead."

The blade struck again, and I barely deflected it. My arms burned, my vision blurred. But then, something shifted. I stopped retreating.

"Anden," I said, my voice steadying. "I didn't leave you. I had to trust you to fight like me. We were soldiers. Brothers. I made the decision, but you were the hero that night. You gave us time."

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. Anden's weapon faltered, his eyes clouding with something like memory—or maybe regret.

"You survived," he whispered, the wind carrying his words away like ash.

"I survived because of you."

The blade in his hand wavered, then dissolved into mist. He looked at me one last time, and his expression softened. Then, like a shadow swept away by dawn, he faded into the air.

The clearing was silent once more.

The leader nodded, her expression unreadable. "You faced your ghost and spoke your truth. Few make it this far."

Lira and Tarek exhaled, the tension in their shoulders easing. I felt hollow, drained, but something inside me had shifted. The wound of Anden's death had been reopened—but now, perhaps, it could finally heal.

The leader raised an arm, gesturing to the surrounding warriors. "You have proven your strength, your honor, and your resolve. The Wraithwood will stand with you."

A murmur ran through the assembled warriors, a low, resonant sound like the forest itself awakening. I glanced at Lira, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"We did it," she whispered.

I nodded, feeling the weight of what we had just accomplished sink in. "Now the real battle begins."

The leader took a step closer, their eyes glinting like steel. "We will follow you to the Blackwood Legion. But know this: the forest demands balance. If you betray this trust, the Wraithwood will claim you."

"I understand," I said, my voice firm. "We won't."

The warriors start to move, gathering weapons and preparing to head back to the fortress. The air is still thick with the shadows of the past, but for the first time in a long time, hope feels something like it could be grasped.

As we turned to leave the clearing, the voice of the leader followed us low and ominous. "The forest remembers. Make sure the world does too.

The path back seemed different, the shadows less oppressive. But I couldn't get the feeling that the trial of Wraithwood wasn't over—that the true test still awaited.