The ground trembled beneath their feet as the Guardian rose.
Its voice was thunder wrapped in ice:
> "You step into memory uninvited."
"You invoke judgement without knowing your guilt."
"So now... you shall face your truth."
The silver light dissolved into obsidian dark.
Kael barely had time to react before the world around him fractured.
One moment, he stood at Eira's side. The next—she was gone. Arion, Vireya, the Chamber, the others—all gone. Nothing but black void remained, filled with whispers and flickering memories trying to claw their way to the surface.
Then—
The Trial began.
---
Kael found himself standing in the barracks.
The smell of oil and sweat was familiar. The sharp sting of military disinfectant in the air, the constant clanking of boots on metal grating.
But something was wrong.
The walls bled. Not red—but black, oozing tar that whispered his name.
Soldiers passed him, faces hollow and eyeless. They saluted him—not as Kael, but as something more. Their mouths opened, and from every throat came the same voice:
> "Welcome home, Son of Hunger."
Kael backed away.
"No. No, I'm not that. I'm—"
> "Then why do you dream in whispers?"
"Why do you feel the monster's pulse before it comes?"
"Why do you crave the fire?"
His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor.
Memories—not his, but his body's—rose unbidden.
He remembered a time before the wall. Before he had a name. A pit. Cold steel. Liquid shadow pumped into his veins. His screams drowned beneath the hum of machines.
He was made.
---
Eira stood on a battlefield of bones.
Ash rained from a sky cut open by lightning. All around her were creatures—some monstrous, some tragically human—kneeling in reverence.
At the center of the field stood Azherah—her own reflection, older, regal, and terrible. Clad in a gown made of shadow, her hands slick with blood, she smiled.
> "Look at you. Weak. Afraid. Clutching a name you don't deserve."
"I'm not you."
> "But you are.
We were forged to be His."
Azherah lifted her hand, and the kneeling creatures surged forward—arms outstretched, voices begging:
> "We need you back."
"Save us, Voice."
"Let us feast again."
Eira screamed and blasted the vision with energy—but the ash thickened. Her power flickered.
> "Every time you use me, I grow stronger." Azherah whispered. "You're borrowing my throne. But eventually, you'll return it."
---
Both Kael and Eira, in their separate domains, heard it:
> "You both were forged in fire and shadow.
You both run from what you are.*
Then let your fates be tested... together.*"
---
The void spat them back into the same place.
Kael and Eira appeared on a floating obsidian platform, suspended in nothingness. Below them, a swirling sea of memory. Above, a sun of pure hunger.
Before them stood a beast—one forged of their sins.
It bore Kael's face… but had Azherah's wings. Its voice was theirs—merged, twisted.
> "You fear becoming us. So kill us."
"Or become what you truly are."
It lunged.
---
Kael deflected the first strike, a wing-shaped blade nearly severing his neck. Eira countered with a burst of raw psychic force that sent the beast skidding back—but it only laughed.
> "Your power is mine." it hissed. "You only delay the inevitable."
The creature attacked again—faster now. It knew their weaknesses.
Kael faltered when he saw its eyes—because they were his. Full of fear. And rage.
Eira gasped when it called her "Mother."
They couldn't defeat it through strength alone.
Kael remembered the Ruinweaver's warning:
> "This place does not lie.
It only reveals.*"
"This isn't a monster," Kael whispered. "It's us."
Eira hesitated. "Then what do we do?"
Kael turned toward her, his eyes hollow but resolute.
"We embrace it."
---
They lowered their weapons.
Kael stepped forward, heart pounding. "You are the part of me I hate. The strength I fear. The voice I ignore."
The creature cocked its head, curious.
Eira followed. "You are the throne I buried. The sins I denied. The blood I pretended wasn't mine."
> "And yet here we are." the beast said, eyes narrowing. "Say it. Say what you are."
Kael and Eira shared a look.
Then—
Together:
> "We are not saviors."
> "We are not monsters."
> "We are the broken middle."
> "And we will decide what we become."
---
The creature screamed—a sound that shattered the black sun above them. The sea of memories below surged upward—but instead of drowning them, it lifted them.
Their pasts.
Their pain.
All of it rushed through them like fire—and left them scarred, but whole.
When Kael opened his eyes, the Chamber was back.
The Guardian was gone.
The seal in the floor was cracked.
The doors unsealed.
They were free.
But not untouched.
Eira's eyes still glowed faintly.
Kael's veins pulsed with silver.
Whatever they were before—had changed.
---
Outside the chamber, the Ruinweaver waited. He stared at them not with reverence, but with fear.
> "It is done," he whispered. "The gate is open."
Kael frowned. "What gate?"
The ground shook.
Above, far beyond the ceiling, a crack of light tore across the sky.
From it, something massive and ancient moved in the void.
Watching.
Waiting.
> "The Devourer stirs."