Entry to the Fifth Floor

The descent to the Fifth Floor had been fraught with a tension thicker than the mists that clung to the cavern walls. For Baylan, it was more than the typical apprehension before a trial unknown. It was the weight of whispers, the sidelong glances, and the unspoken questions that had shadowed him since his reunion with the Company of the Dawn. They were his comrades, yes, bound by oaths and shared battles through the first four floors of the Proving Grounds of Eldoria's famed guild. Yet, they knew. They knew of the stain upon his lineage, the mark of Sköll blood that ran, however diluted, through his veins.

Skoll. The name itself was a curse, a venomous echo of betrayal and shadow. Baylan's father, Wolfgang "Vorlag" Skoll, had been a figure of legend, once hailed as a champion of Aethel, a warrior blessed with uncanny strength and cunning. But legends, like rivers, could turn treacherous. They say Vorlag had succumbed to the whisper of forbidden power, bartering with entities best left undisturbed, twisting his gifts for selfish gain, and ultimately plunging Aethel into a decade of darkness until the light was finally wrestled back by heroes of pure heart. The name Sköll had become synonymous with treachery, and Baylan, innocent as the newborn snow, bore the brunt of that inherited scorn.

The Company of the Dawn, led by the steadfast Rion, the tactician, and bolstered by the fierce warrior Kaelen and the wise healer Elyse, had initially welcomed Baylan back with open arms. They had fought alongside him in the first trials, before he had been…separated. His skills as a tracker and his resilience were undeniable. But the weight of his name had begun to seep into their camaraderie, a subtle poison. Rion, ever pragmatic, made it clear that past sins should not define the present, but even her gaze held a flicker of something unreadable when directed at Baylan.

As they reached the precipice of the Fifth Floor, the air shifted. The cavern opened into a vast, verdant space, unlike any floor they had encountered before. Sunlight, impossibly bright, filtered through a canopy unseen, bathing the area in a golden glow. Flowers bloomed in riotous colours, unheard of in the subterranean Proving Grounds. A gentle breeze rustled leaves that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. It was an idyllic scene, deceptively serene.

They stepped onto the floor, the soft earth yielding beneath their boots. The path ahead was clear, winding through groves of trees and past babbling brooks. It felt less like a trial and more like a paradise. But Baylan's instincts, honed by years spent navigating the shadowed corners of the world, prickled with unease. Too perfect. Too welcoming.

As they ventured deeper, a form emerged from the heart of a particularly dense thicket of flowering bushes. It was a bush unlike any they had seen. Its branches, thick as a man's arm, were interwoven with thorns sharper than any blade, and its leaves pulsed with a strange, vibrant green. Flowers of an unnerving crimson bloomed amidst the foliage, their petals unfurling like hungry mouths.

A low, rustling sound emanated from the bush, growing into a distinct, guttural voice that seemed to vibrate the very air. "Halt, mortals."

The Company of the Dawn froze, hands instinctively going to their weapons. Rion stepped forward, her voice clear despite the tremor of unease she must have felt. "We are the Company of the Dawn, and we seek passage through the Fifth Floor of the Proving Grounds."

The bush remained still for a moment, its branches swaying slightly as if considering her words. Then, the voice resonated again, laced with a dry, rustling disdain. "Passage is granted only to the worthy. And within your company… I sense a blight. A corruption."

The words hung heavy in the air, and all eyes, despite themselves, turned to Baylan. He felt a cold dread creep into his bones, a familiar chill that came with the weight of his name.

"Speak plainly, guardian," Anya said, her voice hardening. "Who do you mean?"

The bush rustled again, and a single, thorny branch extended, pointing directly at Baylan with unnerving precision. "You. Baylan Sköll. Son of Vorlag, the Betrayer. Your blood is tainted, your lineage cursed. You are not fit to tread upon these sacred grounds, let alone continue the trials."

The silence that followed was deafening. Baylan stood rigid, his jaw clenched, feeling the heat of shame and anger rise within him. He had expected prejudice, had lived with it his whole life. But to have it voiced so directly, so authoritatively, by a being that seemed to embody the very essence of the trials… it was a blow.

Kael, ever quick to anger, stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Guardian Bush, you speak without cause! Baylan has proven himself time and again. He is one of us, and he is worthy."

Elyse, calmer, but equally resolute, placed a hand on Kael's arm. "We do not judge a man by the sins of his father. Baylan is his own person."

The bush remained unmoved by their protests. "Sentimentality is a weakness in these Trials. Justice demands balance. The Proving Grounds are meant to hone heroes, to cleanse the unworthy. Skoll blood is poison to the very spirit of these trials. Your father's treachery echoes still, and you, his son, are a conduit for that darkness to seep back in."

Baylan finally found his voice, though it was rough with barely suppressed emotion. "My father's sins are his own. I have never walked in his shadow. I have striven, each day, to be better than the legacy he left behind. I have fought alongside these comrades, bled for them, trusted them with my life. Am I to be judged for something I could not choose, something I despise as much as you?"

The bush was silent for a long, unsettling moment. Then, its voice, though still firm, held a subtle shift. "The taint of Sköll runs deep. It is not easily purged. Many voices in Aethel cry out against your presence here. They see you as an omen, a threat. They believe that allowing you to proceed is an insult to the sacrifices made to undo your father's deeds."

Rion stepped forward again, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And who are these voices, Guardian Bush? Cowards who hide in the shadows, judging from afar? We are here, facing the trials head-on. We have earned our place on this floor, Baylan included. We have faced trials that would break lesser beings, and we have emerged stronger, together."

The bush seemed to consider Rion's words. "The trials are indeed a test of strength, of courage, of worth. But they are also a test of purity. And the presence of Sköll blood… it complicates matters."

"Complicates for whom?" Baylan challenged, his voice rising. "For those who cannot see past a name? For those who cling to old hatreds rather than judge a man by his actions?"

The bush rustled again, and this time, a crimson flower bloomed directly in front of Baylan's face, its petals almost brushing his skin. "Very well, Baylan, son of Sköll. If you claim to be more than your lineage, prove it. The Fifth Floor is not merely a test of physical prowess, but of the spirit. Many trials here are designed to cleanse, to purify. For you, the first trial will be one of cleansing – not of the body, but of the soul."

The thorny branches of the bush parted, revealing a narrow path leading deeper into the grove. "Beyond this path lies the Pool of Reflection. It reveals the true self, unburdened by deceit or illusion. Step into its waters, son of Skoll. Let it judge you, as I and many others already have. If it finds you worthy, despite the shadow of your blood, you may proceed. If not… you will be removed from these Trials, for the sake of Aethel."

Baylan looked at his comrades. Elyse met his gaze, her expression resolute. "We stand with you, Baylan. No matter what this…bush… says." Kael nodded fiercely, his hand still resting on his sword. Rion offered a reassuring smile.

He took a deep breath, the air suddenly feeling thick with expectation. This was no longer just about completing the Trials. It was about something deeper, something more personal. It was about proving his worth, not just to the Guardian Bush, not just to the prejudiced voices of Aethel, but to himself. He needed to confront the shadow of his father and emerge from it, not cleansed of his blood, for that was impossible, but purified in spirit.

"I accept," Baylan said, his voice clear and firm, despite the tremor in his heart. He turned to the path, and without hesitation, stepped forward, the fate of his journey, and perhaps his very being, hanging in the balance within the waters of the Pool of Reflection. The Company of the Dawn followed close behind, their loyalty a silent shield against the judgment of the Fifth Floor, and the lingering shadow of the name Skoll. The trial was not yet over; it had only just begun.