The Forbidden Lattice: Power’s Price

The Veil stretched endlessly, a shifting maze of silver threads and violet mist, each strand alive with energy that hummed against Lucen’s pulse. Every breath he took seemed weighed by unseen eyes, the orb on his wrist throbbing with urgent warnings. The aftermath of the previous battle had left scars—not just on his body, but on his very identity.
Kaelis hovered beside him, threads of protective energy trembling in the chaotic light. “Lucen… the Veil—it’s… different now. I can feel it. It knows we survived, and it’s… watching,” he said, voice tight with unease.
Liora and Fayne circled cautiously, weaving minor lattices to stabilize platforms that shivered beneath their weight. Every movement they made was mirrored by the Veil, every twitch of energy tested, every thought laid bare.
From the depths of silver mist, a low hum rose, vibrating against their bones. And then the older self’s voice slithered into Lucen’s mind:
“Do you see, Lucen? Every choice carves a thread in the Veil. Every restraint is a test. But now… the price of power is not abstract. It is immediate. It is yours.”
Lucen’s fingers twitched. Forbidden magic whispered again, subtle but insistent, offering a spectrum of spells—each with a cost measured in memory, identity, or presence itself. He swallowed hard, trying to focus, but the orb pulsed faster with every heartbeat, as if counting down to a choice he did not want to make.
Elarin’s eyes glinted like molten silver. “Lucen… the Veil tempts, yes. But these spells… they are not free. You must decide what you are willing to lose.”
He nodded, swallowing the fear knotting his chest. The first predator shimmered from the mists—a new form, crystalline and humanlike, with eyes that burned like molten silver and claws that sliced space itself. Sparks flared as it collided with Lucen’s threads, and Kaelis lunged, weaving defensive spirals, but the predator anticipated, striking at the lattice with unnatural precision.
Lucen’s mind raced. He reached instinctively for a spell—the first of the new forbidden magics that Elarin had warned him about: Memorae Bind. He could reach into fractured memories of allies, heal their mental strain, stabilize their focus—but each weave would cost fragments of his own memory.
Kaelis faltered, confusion crossing his features as threads wavered. Liora glanced at him, worried. “Lucen… are you okay?”
Lucen forced a smile, voice steady, even as forbidden magic hissed along his thoughts. One weave… just one…
He cast. Threads of silver and violet spiraled outward, wrapping around his companions like protective chains. Sparks of memory flowed—echoes of confidence, focus, and strength borrowed from Lucen’s own experiences. The crew stabilized instantly, ready to act again.
But pain shot through him—a stabbing ache in the back of his mind. Names, faces, and fleeting images flickered and blurred. A small fragment of himself vanished into the Veil, a reminder of the price he paid. He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain into the lattice, letting sorrow and loss fuel his resolve.
The predator lunged again, claws raking the lattice with violent precision. Lucen’s next option emerged from the whispers: Oblivion Echo. Borrowing the predator’s energy fully could grant immense power, enough to shatter the lattice around them and force the enemy into submission—but each use risked erasing him from the Veil itself, a slow fading from existence.
Kaelis shouted, “Lucen! That’s too dangerous!”
But the predator advanced. Its claws twisted space around them, forcing threads to snap mid-air. Liora’s illusions flickered, Fayne’s currents faltered. Lucen knew what he must do—or everything they’d fought for would be undone.
He wove Oblivion Echo. The lattice flared violently, absorbing the predator’s energy, bending reality around him. Sparks of silver and violet collided with crystalline shards, and the platform quaked violently. His sense of self shivered; a part of him felt distant, untethered, as if he were already dissolving.
The predator froze, energy siphoned into the lattice. Lucen’s heartbeat thundered, threads coiling around him, trembling at the cost he felt deep inside: the edges of his own memory wavered—Kaelis’ first words of encouragement, Liora’s laugh, even fragments of his own childhood—fading into the Veil like mist.
But the lattice held. The predator fractured, collapsing into shards of violet crystal that dissolved into the mist. Lucen staggered, gripping the orb, aware of the personal toll. His mind swam with loss, but he forced control, pulling the remnants of himself back into focus.
Elarin drifted near, hand on his shoulder. “You survived… but the cost… it is only beginning, Lucen. Every new spell will carve more of you into the Veil. Every victory will demand sacrifice.”
Lucen nodded, voice hoarse. “I… I understand. But we endure. We adapt. Step by step. Pain by pain.”
The Veil shimmered, shifting violently. Threads twisted into impossible knots, platforms folding into new patterns. From the mist, the older self emerged—tall, impossibly broad, crystalline edges glinting like razor-sharp mirrors of Lucen’s own form. His smile was calm, terrifyingly serene.
“Ah… impressive,” the older self whispered, voice echoing in the lattice of Lucen’s mind. “You use forbidden magic, yes—but only sparingly. You resist… for now. But the threads of Oblivion are patient. Soon… necessity will outweigh restraint. Soon… you will have to choose what you are willing to lose.”
Lucen felt a surge of fear. This time, the older self did not attack directly. He observed, letting the Veil itself punish missteps, manipulating the environment, sending predators that tested memory, perception, and identity in equal measure.
Kaelis turned to him, voice trembling. “Lucen… that spell you used… did you… lose anything? Do you… remember yourself?”
Lucen’s eyes flickered, a shadow of confusion passing through them. “Fragments… fragments that I cannot grasp. But… I remember enough to fight. Enough to protect you.”
Another whisper reached him, this time darker and colder: Luminara Fracture… split reality itself. Bend the lattice. Control space. Power… beyond comprehension. Cost… your mind.
He shook his head, resisting. Each new spell offered salvation, but demanded fragments of himself, threads of identity, even his tether to the Veil. He had learned: power without cost was an illusion. Each victory demanded blood, sweat, memory, and sometimes… a piece of the self.
The older self’s laughter echoed, omnipresent, omnipotent. “Soon, Lucen… soon, even restraint will fail. The threads of Oblivion are patient, insidious, and infinite. How long before necessity and temptation converge… and what will you lose when it happens?”
The Veil pulsed violently. New predators—twisted amalgams of memory and fear—emerged, their crystalline limbs slicing reality itself. Platforms collapsed, threads snapped, and the orb on Lucen’s wrist flared violently, warning him of another impossible choice.
Lucen stood, hands glowing with silver and violet energy, threads coiling like serpents. His chest heaved. Every bond, every memory, every fragment of self clung to him by sheer will. He looked at Kaelis, Liora, and Fayne. Their trust, their reliance, their very lives depended on him.
He whispered, voice steady despite the turmoil, “We endure. Step by step. Pain by pain. Sacrifice by sacrifice. And we will face whatever comes next—together.”
The older self’s eyes glimmered like molten silver, observing, calculating. “Yes… very brave. But the next choice… will demand more than you imagine. Threads of Oblivion… weaving through every memory, every bond… waiting. Waiting for the moment you falter.”
The Veil stretched, alive, infinite, and unyielding. Silver and violet threads spiraled into impossible patterns. Predators of perception, memory, and temptation closed in. Forbidden magic whispered faintly at the edges of consciousness, reminding him that every spell had a price, every victory a cost.
Lucen clenched his fists, determination blazing. “Then we pay it… together.”
And in the infinite Veil, the older self’s laughter echoed, patient, omnipotent, as Arc 3 surged forward—threads of Oblivion tightening, new spells waiting, and choices poised to carve Lucen’s very essence into the Veil forever.

---
Author’s Note:
Chapter 28 escalates Arc 3, introducing new forbidden spells that carry real costs: memory, identity, and existence. Lucen’s restraint and strategic thinking are tested against increasingly intelligent predators and the ever-present older self. The chapter combines tragic consequences, cinematic isekai visuals, crew dynamics, and high-stakes magical choices, setting up the inevitable confrontation where every spell and every decision will matter..