The gardens of Ériu's palace were a dream woven from starlight and whispers, a place where the boundaries between reality and magic blurred into a shimmering haze. Kael sat on a bench of polished moonstone, the Gáe Bolg resting across his lap, its runes casting a soft blue glow on the mossy ground. Around him, flowers bloomed in colors that defied nature—violets that pulsed like heartbeats, orchids that shimmered with a pearlescent sheen, and daisies that seemed to whisper secrets in a language he couldn't quite grasp. The air was sweet with their scent, mingled with the faint tang of magic, and tiny sprites with dragonfly wings flitted among the blooms, their laughter a tinkling melody that echoed through the garden. A waterfall of liquid silver cascaded into a nearby pool, its surface rippling with images of Ériu's past—heroes clashing with Fomorians, druids weaving spells, lovers dancing under moonlight—each ripple a glimpse into the land's soul.
Kael's gaze lingered on the pool, his thoughts a tangled knot of awe and unease. The Otherworld was beautiful, but its beauty felt like a mask, hiding dangers he couldn't yet see. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, the weight of Ériu's words—the rogue god, Balor's role as a pawn—pressing on him like a storm cloud. "This place is unreal," he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. "But I can't shake the feeling it's testing me, even now."
Ériu sat beside him, her golden hair catching the eternal twilight of the Otherworld, her violet eyes reflecting the pool's starry glow. Her gown shimmered with the colors of Ériu's landscapes, the greens and blues shifting like a living map, and her presence was a warm anchor in the surreal garden. "You feel the Otherworld's gaze because you are the spear-bearer," she said, her voice a gentle melody that seemed to resonate with the flowers around them. "This realm reflects the heart of those who enter. Your doubts, your fears—they draw its attention. But so does your courage."
Kael glanced at her, his green eyes searching. "You said you feel Ériu's pain—every battle, every loss. How do you handle that? I'm barely keeping it together after one big fight."
Ériu's smile was bittersweet, her hand resting on the bench, inches from his. "I endure because I must," she said. "I am Ériu's spirit, its memory and its hope. When the land suffers, I suffer. But when heroes rise, when bonds are forged, I find strength. You, Kael Lughson, give me that strength." Her fingers brushed his, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through him, her violet eyes holding a warmth that made his heart race.
Before Kael could respond, Morrígan approached, her cloak swirling with crow imagery, her crimson eyes sharp as she surveyed the garden. Her crows perched on the moonstone bench, their black feathers stark against the glowing flowers, and their soft caws seemed to carry a warning. "This place may soothe the heart, but it sharpens the mind for a reason," she said, her tone low. "The Sidhe do not offer rest without purpose. Ériu, what trial comes next?"
Aífe, leaning against a tree with her spear in hand, nodded in agreement, her blue eyes scanning the garden with a warrior's caution. "I've had enough of this beauty," she said, her voice edged with impatience. "It's making me itch for a fight. What's the next test, Kael? I'd rather face a Fomorian than sit here waiting for flowers to attack."
Brigid, kneeling by a cluster of glowing lilies, laughed softly, her fiery red hair shimmering in the twilight. "Not everything is a battle, Aífe," she said, her green eyes bright with amusement. "But I agree—we should be ready. The Otherworld's magic feels… expectant."
Ériu rose, her gown rippling like a river, and the garden seemed to still, the sprites pausing in their dance, the flowers' whispers fading to silence. "You are wise to be cautious," she said, her voice carrying a new weight. "The next trial awaits—the Trial of the Veil. It is a test of perception, to see beyond the illusions of the Otherworld and uncover the truth of your path."
She raised a hand, and the garden shimmered, the air folding like a curtain to reveal a new space—a grove of ancient yew trees, their gnarled branches forming a canopy that blocked out the twilight. The ground was carpeted in silver mist, swirling like a living thing, and at the grove's center stood a massive mirror framed in thorny vines, its surface dark as a moonless night. The air here was colder, heavier, and Kael felt a prickle of unease as the mist seemed to whisper his name.
"The Veil shows what is hidden," Ériu said, her violet eyes locked on the mirror. "It will reveal a truth about yourself—and about the darkness we face. But the Otherworld's illusions will try to deceive you. See through them, Kael Lughson, and you will gain a piece of the knowledge we seek."
Kael stepped forward, the Gáe Bolg's runes flaring as he approached the mirror. His reflection appeared, but it was distorted—his green eyes glowed with an unnatural light, his body warped as if the Ríastrad had taken hold. The mist thickened, and the reflection spoke, its voice a chilling echo of his own. "You cannot escape me," it said. "I am your truth—the destroyer the prophecy foretells."
Kael's heart pounded, the words striking at his deepest fears. He felt the heat of the Ríastrad stirring in his chest, but he forced it down, drawing on Scáthach's training to steady his breathing. "You're not real," he said, his voice firm. "You're an illusion—just another trick."
The reflection laughed, a sound that sent the mist swirling into new shapes—images of Ériu burning, Ulster's warriors falling, his harem turning away in disgust. "This is your future," it hissed. "You will fail them all."
Aífe stepped to Kael's side, her spear raised, her blue eyes blazing. "Shut up," she snapped, her voice fierce. "Kael's not a destroyer—he's a fighter. I've seen it."
Brigid placed a hand on Kael's shoulder, her healing light countering the mist's chill, her voice a gentle anchor. "You are more than your fears, Kael," she said. "See the truth beyond the lies."
Morrígan's crows swooped through the mist, their wings dispersing the illusions, and her crimson eyes met Kael's with a rare intensity. "Look deeper, spear-bearer," she said. "The Veil hides, but it also reveals. Find the light within the shadow."
Kael focused, his gaze piercing the mirror's darkness. The illusions wavered, and a new image emerged—a shadowy figure cloaked in black flames, its voice a whisper that echoed through the grove. "I am the Unnamed," it said, confirming Ériu's warning of the rogue god. "You cannot stop what has begun." The image faded, replaced by a vision of Kael standing triumphant, the Gáe Bolg raised, Ériu and his harem at his side, Ériu's landscapes restored.
Kael exhaled, the mist dissipating as the mirror's surface cleared. "I saw it," he said, turning to Ériu. "The rogue god—it called itself the Unnamed. And I saw… us, winning."
Ériu's smile was radiant, her violet eyes filled with hope. "You have passed the Trial of the Veil," she said. "The Unnamed's presence grows, but so does your strength. We will face it together, Kael Lughson."