The labyrinth of shifting runes was alive.
The walls, inscribed with glowing glyphs, twisted and reformed around them, altering the paths with every step they took.
The stone beneath their feet trembled, shifting like sand, forcing them to adapt constantly.
Argolaith wiped sweat from his brow. "This trial is insane. The walls aren’t just moving—they’re reacting to us."
Kaelred growled in frustration as he nearly walked into a newly-formed barrier of golden energy. "It’s like the damn thing is reading our thoughts."
The Saint Beast watched from above, perched on one of the high platforms overlooking the shifting maze.
Its golden eyes gleamed with unreadable intent, its feathered wings pulsing slightly with an aura of silent authority.
"You were warned. The Forgotten Runes test not only strength, but patience, instinct, and adaptability."
The words carried no malice, but only truth.
Kaelred exhaled sharply. "We’re running out of time. There has to be a pattern."
They had already spent hours inside the labyrinth.
Dodging collapsing passages, leaping over chasms that hadn’t been there moments before, and trying to decipher the inscriptions that dictated the paths.
The problem was… the runes kept changing.
Far beyond the glowing labyrinth, hidden deep within the shadows of the ruins, another presence lurked.
The lich stood in silence, his skeletal frame partially concealed within the shifting stone, his violet eyes gleaming from the darkness.
He had following Argolaith and Kaelred into the portal.
And now, as he observed them struggle against the maze, he found himself intrigued.
His fingers twitched slightly as he studied the runes. He recognized them, of course.
They were from an era long before mortal kingdoms, before the structured magic of the present day.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself. "They’re trying to master something they barely understand. A fool’s errand, but…"
A faint grin curled along his skeletal jaw.
"…they are stubborn."
That amused him. He could see the mistakes they were making. He could see the way the runes were manipulating their choices, leading them deeper into failure.
And yet, he did not interfere. Not yet.
The Saint Beast, still observing the trial, shifted its gaze slightly, its golden eyes flickering toward the lich’s hiding place.
It did not speak. It did not act, because there was no bloodlust. The lich was not here to attack, nor to disrupt.
He was simply… watching. And so, the Saint Beast let him be.
Argolaith and Kaelred kept moving, but every choice they made led them deeper into the labyrinth’s snare.
"We’re making no progress," Kaelred snarled. "Every time we pick a path, it closes on us."
Argolaith clenched his jaw. He could feel it—the walls of the trial were closing in on them.
They were running out of options.
Then, the runes shifted violently, and the ground beneath them gave way.
"MOVE!" Argolaith roared.
They barely had time to react before the floor cracked open, revealing a swirling abyss of golden energy.
Kaelred jumped first, rolling across solid ground. Argolaith followed—but as soon as he landed, the entire labyrinth began collapsing inward.
"This is bad," Kaelred breathed. "Really, really bad."
The walls surged forward, the runes flickering erratically. The energy within them was unstable, as if the trial itself was rejecting them.
A deep hum resonated through the chamber, and a final wall of glowing stone slammed down before them, sealing the exit.
Kaelred cursed. "It’s over. We lost."
Argolaith’s heart pounded. No. He refused to believe that.
Think. The trial was built on runes, and runes were about balance, energy, and intent.
He spun, his gaze locking onto the largest rune carved into the center of the collapsed passageway.
A single inscription. One that dictated the labyrinth’s movement.
Argolaith didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Kaelred’s arm and pulled him backward. "Give me a dagger. NOW."
Kaelred, stunned but trusting, handed him the blade without question.
Argolaith slashed his palm open, pressing his bleeding hand against the rune. The reaction was instant.
The inscription flared with burning red energy, rejecting his presence—rejecting his interference—until… Argolaith focused.
Intent. Balance. Understanding.
He didn’t need to rewrite the rune. He needed to complete it.
With a split-second decision, he carved the missing stroke into the glowing script, finishing the inscription in his own blood.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then—The labyrinth froze.
The glowing walls flickered—then cracked.
And then, with a deafening roar, the entire structure shattered.
When the dust settled, Argolaith and Kaelred stood at the edge of the ruins, panting heavily, their hands still stained with sweat and blood.
The maze was gone—nothing but dust and fading runes remained.
Kaelred stared at Argolaith. "That was insane."
Argolaith exhaled sharply. "We would’ve lost if we hesitated even a second longer."
The Saint Beast landed before them, its massive wings folding gracefully against its back. Its golden eyes flickered with something akin to approval.
"You were meant to fail."
Kaelred scowled. "Excuse me?"
"This was not a test of success, but a test of reaction. Runes are not meant to be followed blindly. You were trapped because you believed the path dictated your fate. It did not. You had to rewrite it yourself."
Argolaith clenched his fists. "That’s why I had to finish the inscription."
The Saint Beast inclined its head. "Yes. You understood the purpose of the runes rather than their form. That is the difference between a warrior and a true wielder of the Forgotten Runes."
Kaelred exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "So, we passed?"
A long pause. Then—"You have proven yourselves… worthy to continue."
From his hidden place, the lich watched silently. They had survived. He tapped a bony finger against his chin, deep in thought.
They were growing, becoming stronger, and that meant… they were no longer simple targets.
He had followed them for one reason—to study the ring that Argolaith carried. But now, something else stirred in his mind.
Something he hadn’t felt in centuries. Curiosity.
And so, without a sound, he turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving them behind.
For the next two days, Argolaith and Kaelred remained in the realm of the Saint Beast, recovering from their trial and preparing for the next phase of their journey.
The air in this place was dense with ancient magic, unlike anything they had encountered before.
The ruins held a stillness, a feeling of weight, as if the knowledge preserved here had not been disturbed in eons.
The Saint Beast observed them as they refined their understanding of the runes, watching their discussions, their careful practice, and their growing comprehension of the true power hidden within these inscriptions.
Kaelred had spent most of his time studying the broken and incomplete glyphs within the ruined texts, muttering to himself, sketching what he could on spare parchment, and comparing symbols from different structures within the ruins.
Argolaith, on the other hand, had been practicing the controlled inscription of runes on small stone tablets, ensuring he could replicate them correctly in combat.
He knew now that runes weren’t simply written—they were embedded into reality itself.
On the morning of the third day, the Saint Beast summoned them to the great platform, where golden inscriptions glowed brighter than ever before, as if the very ruins were alive in recognition of their presence.
The towering creature stood before them, its silver-streaked fur shimmering, its massive wings spread ever so slightly, as if to acknowledge their efforts.
"You have learned all you can in the time allowed. Though your understanding is still in its infancy, you now possess the foundation necessary to wield the Forgotten Runes properly."
Argolaith and Kaelred stood in silence, listening carefully.
The Saint Beast gazed down at them, and for the first time, it spoke its name.
"I am Vaelthion, Guardian of the Lost Runes, Keeper of the First Knowledge, Watcher of the Forgotten Paths."
The name reverberated through the ruins, as if even the air itself recognized the power behind it.
Kaelred whispered, "Vaelthion…" the name rolling off his tongue with weight.
Argolaith nodded in respect. "We will remember it."
Vaelthion’s eyes gleamed. "Before you depart, I grant you gifts—tools that will aid you on your path."
From within the folds of its feathered wings, Vaelthion extended a small obsidian ring, its surface engraved with delicate golden runes that pulsed faintly.
It hovered in the air before Argolaith, waiting for him to take it.
"This is the Ring of Inscription," Vaelthion said. "It is a relic of the old world, crafted to bear the weight of runes without the need for permanent inscription."
Argolaith took the ring, feeling the warmth of ancient energy within it.
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The moment he placed it on his finger, a wave of knowledge filled his mind, an understanding of its purpose and potential.
"This ring can hold up to five advanced runes or twenty standard runes at a time," Vaelthion continued.
"You may prepare runes in advance, inscribe them onto the ring, and call upon them as needed. This will allow you to wield their power without permanently marking your flesh."
Argolaith’s eyes widened. This was invaluable.
He clenched his fist, feeling the energy of the ring settle within him. "I… don’t know what to say."
Vaelthion’s voice was calm. "Master it. That is thanks enough."
Vaelthion then turned to Kaelred, and with a sweeping motion of its wing, a massive, leather-bound tome materialized in the air.
The book was ancient, nearly a million years old, its pages yellowed with time, yet preserved by powerful enchantments.
Kaelred reached out slowly, taking the tome with reverence.
"This," Vaelthion said, "is the Tome of Forgotten Languages. It contains fragments of ancient dialects, incomplete runes, and texts from civilizations long before your time."
Kaelred opened the book carefully, his eyes widening as he saw script upon script, some resembling Elven, others entirely foreign, all incomplete yet brimming with unrealized potential.
"If you study this well," Vaelthion continued, "you will be able to reconstruct the languages lost to time. And within them… you may find the key to the greater runes—the inscriptions even I cannot teach you."
Kaelred tightened his grip on the tome, his mind already racing with possibilities. "This is… more than I ever could’ve imagined."
Vaelthion inclined its head. "Knowledge is power. Use it well."
