The Forgotten Eidolon

The valley was vast, stretching endlessly toward the horizon, where the distant outline of Atris loomed in the fading light. Jan moved quickly, navigating through uneven terrain. He needed to put more distance between himself and the patrol. They would not stop.

But something else gnawed at him. The parchment. The Veilmark. The masked figures. What was he? Why was he different?

His thoughts were interrupted by an unnatural shift in the air. A presence.

Jan stopped. The world around him felt wrong, as if space itself had bent. Then, the shadows moved.

From the darkness emerged a man, cloaked in robes of shifting hues, his face obscured by a half-mask adorned with intricate symbols. His aura crackled with raw energy.

"You carry the mark of the Eidolon," the man said, his voice layered with echoes. "Do you know what that means?"

Jan remained silent, gripping his dagger.

The man extended a hand. Reality warped around his fingers as if bending to his will. "Eidolon abilities are not gifts. They are curses. And you will learn why."

Suddenly, the air shattered.

Time splintered as an invisible force struck Jan's chest, sending him flying backward. He crashed against a boulder, pain jolting through his spine.

The man hadn't moved.

Jan coughed, struggling to rise. This was power beyond anything he had seen.

The man sighed. "You don't even know how to use it, do you?" He stepped forward, and the ground beneath him turned to liquid, then solidified again.

Jan steadied himself. "Then teach me."

A pause. Then, a slow smile behind the mask. "Very well. But first, you must survive."

The ground trembled. Shadows peeled away from the earth, taking form.

Dozens of figures materialized—spectral, shifting, their bodies barely holding shape. Each one carried an unnatural weapon, radiating raw, unstable energy.

The man raised a hand. "These are Eidolon fragments. Reflections of power. Face them—if you live, you may be worthy."

Jan exhaled sharply. No choice. Fight or die.

The first specter lunged.

Jan twisted, barely dodging as the spectral blade slashed through the space he had occupied. The air hissed, as if reality itself resisted the strike.

He struck back, his dagger slicing through the shadow's form—but it passed through, barely slowing the creature. They weren't completely real.

Another one lunged. This time, Jan rolled under its attack, rising swiftly to his feet. His eyes darted toward the masked man, who stood motionless, watching.

A test.

Jan ground his teeth. If they weren't real, then what were they?

He focused, trying to feel beyond the physical. His Veilmark burned, a cold fire running through his veins. For a fraction of a second, the shadows around him flickered, revealing something beneath—a thread, a connection to the fabric of existence itself.

Jan reacted instinctively. He grabbed onto that invisible thread, twisting it.

The specter in front of him jerked, its form flickering before suddenly becoming solid.

Jan didn't hesitate. He drove his dagger into its core.

The creature let out a shrill, unnatural wail before dissolving into mist.

The others hesitated.

Jan smirked. "You can die after all."

His heart pounded, but something had changed. He could feel them now. Their presence, their nature. The Veilmark pulsed, whispering its secrets.

This was the power of an Eidolon.

He reached again, pulling at their forms, forcing them into existence one by one—and cutting them down.

The last specter fell. Silence returned.

The masked man exhaled, lowering his hand. "You have taken your first step."

Jan steadied his breath. His body ached, but he had won.

"Then what's the next one?" he asked.

The man's mask caught the dying light as he turned. "Follow me."

Jan hesitated, then stepped forward, deeper into the unknown.