“The Prize,” Vethis purred, stepping through the memory like a ghost, “is the return of one thing you have lost. A person. A moment. A piece of your soul. But to claim it, you must choose which loss you value most. And then you must relive the others.”
The wind tasted of rust and burnt sugar. That was the first sign Venn had crossed into Skaafin territory. DV-s The Skaafin Prize
Vethis laughed—a dry, ancient sound, like stones grinding together. “Very well, DV-s bearer. You have completed the fourth Trial. You have shown the Skaafin something we forgot: that the greatest prize is not what you regain, but what you refuse to abandon.” “The Prize,” Vethis purred, stepping through the memory
Vethis tilted his head, genuinely curious. “Then what do you claim?” A piece of your soul
The glass walls rippled. Suddenly Venn was no longer in the galleries. He was back in the salt-flat village of his childhood, the day the fever took his younger sister. He watched his twelve-year-old self hold her hand as she slipped away, helpless.
He thought of his sister’s final whisper. Don’t forget me.