Veilbound Secrets: The Oath Bearer's Curse

This was the first trial.

I staggered to my feet, every muscle in my body aching, but I forced myself to move forward. The path stretched out ahead, winding and twisting into the mist like a serpent. Each step felt like I was wading through thick mud, the weight of the Veil pressing down on my shoulders, clawing at my mind. The whispers returned, louder now, more insistent, tearing at my thoughts like vultures picking at a corpse.

"Failure."

"Just like the others."

"They fell, and so will you."

I gritted my teeth, trying to shut them out. But it wasn’t easy. Each word seemed to echo the fears I’d kept buried for years. The fear that maybe… maybe I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe the others had been right.

The path twisted again, and up ahead, a massive stone archway came into view. Its surface was etched with runes that pulsed faintly, casting a ghostly light into the surrounding fog. The air buzzed with an unseen energy, crackling like lightning before a storm. I hesitated, staring at the runes, feeling the weight of the task ahead.

This was it. The first real challenge. I reached out a hand toward the arch, fingers trembling. The second my skin touched the cold stone, a surge of energy shot through me, making my heart race. The world shifted violently, like reality itself had been torn apart.

"Huh? Where—"

I wasn’t in the Veil anymore. I stood in the training yard of the Oswin estate, but everything was wrong. The sky was a sickly red, casting an unnatural light over the place I had once known so well. The air was thick with tension, suffocating.

Before I could make sense of it, a figure stepped forward from the shadows.

It was my cousin.

He stood at the edge of the yard, his eyes burning with cold fury, a hatred so deep it made my chest tighten. His lips curled into a sneer.

“You think you deserve the relic?” His voice dripped with venom, each word a blade slicing through me. “You’re nothing, Aric. Weak. Always have been, always will be.”

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. His words cut deeper than any weapon ever could. They weren’t just insults—they were truths I had tried to bury. My cousin had always resented me. I had known that much. But to hear it said so plainly, so bitterly…

“I—” My voice faltered. "This isn't real."

His eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he stepped closer. "Not real? Oh, Aric, this is as real as it gets. You've always hidden behind Father, behind Cedric, Liora—thinking they’d protect you. But look around. They’re not here."

I tried to step back, but the ground beneath me began to crack. Jagged fissures split the earth, spreading out in all directions like the breaking of glass. I could feel it, the Veil pressing down on me, feeding on my insecurities, my doubts. My knees trembled, the weight of his words pulling me down like anchors tied to my soul.

“You’ve never had what it takes,” he continued, circling me like a predator. “You’re just a scared little boy playing at being an Oswin. That’s why you can’t wield the sword, isn’t it?”

His words sliced through me. My mind was dragged back to that night—the night. I was thirteen, hiding in the shadows while my mother stood alone, her sword drawn against a faceless enemy. She fought valiantly, but the moment she fell, something inside me shattered. I was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to help. Her blood stained the earth beneath her, and I… I did nothing.

My cousin’s voice cut through the haze like a knife, yanking me back to the present. “You remember now, don’t you? How she died. How you just stood there—frozen. And Cedric, ever the protector, sealed away those memories to spare you the trauma.”

A cold shudder ran down my spine, my chest tightening. The truth I had tried to bury clawed its way back to the surface, relentless and unforgiving. “Shut up,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. My lips trembled, the taste of bile rising in my throat.

Since that night, I had never been the same. Every time I touched a sword, I could feel something... wrong. The weight of an invisible failure, like a hand pressing down on my chest, suffocating me. It wasn’t just fear—it was guilt, thick and choking, woven into every fiber of my being. I had tried to run from it, tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just a shadow. But it had always been there, waiting for me. That night had haunted me, like a specter lurking in the edges of my mind. Every waking moment, it whispered that I was unworthy, that I had failed the only person who had ever truly believed in me.

I hadn’t been able to hold a sword since. Not without feeling like I was drowning in that guilt, that I was reliving that night over and over again.

No wonder I’ve been so weak, I thought bitterly. Cedric sealed away my memories, but the wound remained.

“You let her die, Aric.” His voice was soft now, mockingly gentle, as if he were speaking to a child. “And now you want to carry the relic? You couldn’t even carry a sword or protect your loved ones. What makes you think you’re worthy?”

“Shut up!” I roared, but my voice cracked, wavering under the weight of his words. The cracks inside me, the ones I had tried so hard to hide, were splitting open, and I couldn’t stop it.

He laughed, a cruel, hollow sound that echoed through the crumbling landscape around us. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Still that scared little boy. The one who couldn’t save his own mother. The one who watched her die while he stood there, too weak, too pathetic to even raise a sword.”

“Shut up!” I screamed again, but the desperation was there now, clawing at my throat, ripping me apart from the inside. My hands clenched into fists, shaking with the fury and shame I had tried so hard to bury.

He was right. Every word felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound that had never healed. I had stood there, helpless, as my mother—the strongest person I had ever known—was struck down, and I hadn’t been able to do anything. I hadn’t been strong enough. I hadn’t been brave enough.

And now, I wanted to carry the relic? To take on a responsibility that required strength far beyond what I had ever shown?

The guilt crashed over me in waves, nearly pulling me under. I could hear her screams again, the sound of her blade clattering to the ground, the sickening silence that followed.

The sword had become a symbol of that night. Of my failure. Every time I touched it, it was like touching that memory, reliving the moment when I had lost her. The moment when I had failed to be the son she deserved.

"You think Cedric’s memory block saved you?" my cousin hissed, circling me like a predator toying with its prey. "It didn’t. It only delayed the truth. And now that you remember, do you feel it? The crushing weight of your weakness? Of your guilt?"

I gasped, struggling to breathe under the intensity of it all. My mother’s face flashed before my eyes—her eyes, her smile, the fierce determination she had always carried. I had let her down. I had let her die.

And I had been running from that truth ever since.

I wanted to scream again, to deny it, to push him away, but my voice faltered. The truth was heavy, undeniable. He wasn’t wrong.

The whispers grew louder, rising to a cacophony in my ears.

“Failure.”

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Let it go.”

The world was falling apart. My cousin’s face blurred, his words becoming a chorus of every doubt I’d ever had, every mistake I’d ever made. The fissures widened, the ground crumbling beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole.

But then, in the midst of the chaos, a voice—soft, gentle—cut through the storm.

"Aric, it’s okay."

It wasn’t my cousin’s voice. It was hers. My mother’s.

My breath caught in my throat. It was impossible. She was gone. She couldn’t be here.

But there it was—her voice—soft and warm, wrapping around me like the embrace I thought I’d never feel again. It felt like stepping into a place I had forgotten, a place I thought was lost forever, where her presence could chase away any fear, any doubt. The sound of her voice was like a balm on wounds I hadn’t realized were still bleeding, pulling me out of the suffocating darkness that was trying to drown me.

"You're stronger than this, Aric." Her voice was a whisper, but it resonated with a strength that echoed through my entire being. "You've always been stronger."

I closed my eyes, tears burning hot at the corners. A lump formed in my throat, choking me as I tried to find the words. "I… I couldn’t save you," I whispered, my voice breaking, raw and fragile. The admission tore through me, bringing back every moment of that night. The smell of blood, the metallic clang of her sword hitting the ground, her body crumpling as the life drained from her eyes.

I could still see her lying there, helpless and broken. And I had stood there, a boy too scared to move, too terrified to help.

The guilt had lived inside me since that day, like a shadow following me wherever I went, a constant reminder of my failure. I had failed her. Failed to protect the one person who had always protected me.

But her voice was gentle, cutting through the storm of my self-loathing. "You don’t have to carry that burden anymore." It was like she could see straight into the heart of me, understanding all the pain and shame I had buried deep. "But you must keep going."

A sob tore from my chest, the weight of her words pressing against my ribs. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore, and I didn’t want to. All those years, I had carried the weight of that night—every day, every breath had been laced with the guilt that I had let her die. And now, hearing her voice again, after so long, it was as if she was pulling that burden away, bit by bit.

For the first time in years, the suffocating weight on my chest lightened, even just a little. She wasn’t angry with me. She didn’t hate me for what I had done—or rather, what I had failed to do. I had expected her to blame me, to echo the same doubts I had about myself. But instead, there was only her love, her unwavering belief in me, the same belief she had shown me when she was alive.

Her belief in me. Even after everything.

I opened my eyes, blinking back the tears. The world around me was still crumbling, the ground fissuring beneath my feet, but her voice was a beacon, guiding me through the chaos. With a surge of determination, I clenched my fists and forced myself to stand. The whispers of my cousin—his mocking, his hatred, the venom in his words—tried to drag me back down, but I wouldn’t let them. Not this time.

My legs trembled as I took my first step forward, my muscles screaming in protest, but I refused to stop. Not now. Not after everything.

Each step felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, like the earth itself was trying to hold me back, but I pressed on. My cousin's face flickered before me, his sneer warping, his voice distorting, as though the very fabric of the illusion was unraveling under the weight of my resolve.

The guilt, the shame, the fear—they still clung to me, but they were no longer chains that bound me. They were just remnants of a past that couldn’t hold me down anymore. My mother’s voice was there, always just behind me, whispering encouragement, pushing me forward.

"You’ve always been stronger than you know, Aric."

The fissures widened around me, and for a moment, I thought the ground would open up and swallow me whole. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to keep moving. For her. For myself. For the future I still hadn’t allowed myself to imagine.

My cousin’s figure flickered again, and this time, he wavered, his form dissolving into shadows, his voice a distant echo, as if he had never been real at all. The training yard—the red sky, the cracked earth—all of it began to melt away, fading like a dream after waking.

I gasped for breath as the world around me shattered, and when I blinked again, I found myself standing at the edge of the stone archway, the air cool and still. My heart was pounding in my chest, each beat a reminder that I had survived.