Alaric's body lay restless in his bed, but his soul was not there.
As his eyes closed, the world fell away. Darkness consumed everything, then split—half blinding light, half endless shadow. He felt himself pulled in two directions, his chest tight, his breath shallow.
And then he was no longer in the Academy.
He stood at the edge of two realms divided by a jagged scar across the ground. To his left rose a golden horizon, mountains burning with eternal flame, rivers shimmering with molten light. The air was heavy with chants, the rhythm of mantras beating like drums.
To his right stretched a wasteland of black stone, skies bleeding crimson, and towers of twisted bone. Shadows moved across the ground, faceless, countless, whispering his name with hollow devotion.
Two figures emerged from their realms.
From the flame, Kenive rose, towering, radiant, his mace gleaming with celestial fire. His eyes glowed like twin suns, fixed on Alaric with unshakable resolve.
From the wasteland, Eryndor emerged, his cloak of darkness writhing like a living thing, his hollow eyes burning red, his presence pressing down like a crown too heavy to bear.
Both spoke at once, their voices crashing like thunder.
"This is your trial."
Alaric staggered, his heart racing. "No… I said I don't want this. I don't want to choose either of you!"
Kenive's voice boomed, shaking the ground: "To refuse is weakness. If you cannot protect, you will be consumed. Step into the flame and be reforged. Serve truth, and your friends will live."
Eryndor's whisper coiled around his mind like chains: "To deny is a lie. You cannot run from what you are. Step into the dark and rule. Claim the throne, and the world itself will kneel."
The realms pulsed, pulling at him.
He clenched his fists. "I don't want to serve. I don't want to rule. I just want… to live."
Kenive raised his mace, striking the ground. The golden earth cracked open, spilling rivers of fire. From the flames rose figures—Clem, Darian, Elara—all screaming as shadowy beasts dragged them into the abyss.
"Your refusal leaves them unprotected," Kenive thundered. "Is this the life you seek? To watch your friends perish because you chose to be nothing?"
Alaric reached for them instinctively, but the flames vanished, leaving only scorched ground. His chest ached.
Eryndor stepped forward, shadows stretching from his feet. The wasteland twisted, reshaping into an endless throne room of bone. Upon the throne sat Alaric himself, older, cloaked, his eyes glowing with void. Countless Hollow Ones bowed before him.
"You cannot resist forever," Eryndor hissed. "This is your fate. Look at the king you will become. Look how even gods will kneel when you embrace me."
The crowned version of himself raised a hand, and even Kenive faltered, his flame flickering.
"No!" Alaric shouted, stumbling back. "That's not me. That will never be me!"
The crowned Alaric turned its head, hollow-eyed, and spoke with his own voice.
"You already chose. You chose when you unleashed the eclipse. You chose when the Hollow Ones bowed."
Alaric's knees buckled. He pressed his hands to his ears, but the voices drilled into his skull. Kenive demanding strength, Eryndor demanding rule, both tearing him apart.
"Stop!" he screamed. "I don't want either of you!"
The realms convulsed. Light and shadow collided at the scar in the ground, splitting the world apart. Both Kenive and Eryndor raised their weapons, their voices roaring together:
"Then prove it."
The trial shifted. The golden flame surged forward. The black void consumed from the other side. Both forces charged toward him, unstoppable.
Alaric screamed as the two realms crashed into him, his body consumed by both light and shadow. The pain was unbearable—his soul stretched, torn, tested.
And then—
Darkness. Silence.
He fell into nothingness.
When his eyes snapped open, he was back in his bed at the Academy, drenched in sweat, his sheets twisted around him. The amber stone lay on his chest, pulsing faintly.
But the whispers lingered in the room.
"…This was only the beginning…"
"…Next time, refusal will not save you…"
Alaric buried his face in his hands. His trial had not ended. It had only begun.