The flames of the Trial still flickered in Lyra's gaze as she stepped into the war chamber of Skyhold.
Kaelen rose immediately, his expression tight with concern, but when he caught her eyes, he stopped. He saw it. Not power, not just strength—but clarity. She walked like someone who had held the multiverse in her palm and chosen not to crush it.
"You're different," he said.
"I remember who I could have become," Lyra answered "I remember who I still might."
Vaelion grinned from where he leaned against the mosaic window, the fifth Fragment's ethereal glow dancing in his irises "You didn't scream, so I assume you passed."
"Barely," she replied "There are trials that test strength. And trials that test will. This one…" Her voice lowered "It tested the soul."
Riven raised an eyebrow from across the table, surrounded by maps, artifact sketches, and tactical arrays "Then perhaps you're ready for the next step. Because the Realms just shifted."
The war table projected a shifting view of the Realmscape. The rifts had grown. From the Ember Realms to the distant Cryo-Drifts, the veil was thinning. Realities pressed too close, rubbing raw.
And something massive stirred within the voids between.
"Serian," Kaelen said grimly.
Vaelion nodded "Our old master grows impatient. He's sending his heralds beyond the boundaries. The Seven Generals are moving."
"Which ones?" Lyra asked, fingers clenching slightly.
"Two have already crossed into the physical Realms," Riven said, tapping a crimson shard "Yharen the Maw, and Veccora the Hollow-Eyed. One brings corruption, the other steals hope."
"They're hunting Fragments too," Kaelen added "Trying to reach the Nexus before we do."
The Nexus—the convergence point where the seven Fragments would rejoin, reawakening the Heart of the Realms. It was their only hope of sealing the Shattered Paths Serian had opened.
"We'll split," Lyra said "You three hold Skyhold. Protect the Fragments we've gathered. I'll go after Yharen."
"Alone?" Vaelion snorted "He eats gods."
"Then I'll make him choke."
Kaelen stepped forward "You're not doing this alone."
Lyra smiled faintly "You still haven't learned, have you?"
But in truth, she didn't go alone.
The skyship Stellar Vow awaited her, drifting like a blade through the clouds. Lyra took the helm, but at her side stood Nysera—once a spy, now her sworn blade—and Elian, the stargazer whose visions had first pointed them toward the Fragments.
They flew toward the Emberfissures—an unstable realm at the edge of dissolution. That's where Yharen had last been seen, devouring ley-lines of power and turning entire cities into dreaming husks.
As they approached, the realm dimmed.
Ash fell like snow. The wind moaned like a choir of the dead.
"This place remembers fire," Nysera murmured.
"No," Elian whispered "It remembers fear."
Lyra activated the Heart's glow within her chest, and the realm rippled. The ash parted, revealing a spiraling canyon of charred stone and glass. In its center stood a monolith carved from the bones of titans.
And on top of it—Yharen.
The General was monstrous.
Eight arms, each holding a different weapon—blade, axe, scythe, staff. His body was a patchwork of beasts and warforms. His face was a shifting maw of teeth, laughter, and memories that weren't his.
He turned as Lyra approached, eyes glinting with recognition.
"Starborn," he hissed "The weaver of false fates."
"And you're the eater of forgotten worlds," she replied, drawing her twin blades.
"I will taste your regrets."
"You won't even touch my name."
The battle ignited like a nova.
Yharen's strikes tore craters into the canyon. Lyra danced between them, each movement tracing afterimages of starlight. Her weapons sang—one forged in the Trial of Roots, the other tempered by Vaelion's flame.
Nysera flanked from the shadows, striking tendon and joint. Elian used his arcane sight to distort space, buying moments—fractions of eternity—for Lyra to counterstrike.
Still, Yharen was overwhelming.
He roared, and reality twisted. Memories surged through Lyra—her death in one world, her betrayal in another, her loneliness echoing across timelines.
"You are unworthy," the Maw growled "You are broken."
Lyra's knees hit the stone.
But then, from within her, the threads pulsed.
"I am every version of myself," she snarled. "And none of them bowed to you."
She flung her blades wide, and the fifth Fragment lit up—its spiral flare twisting into a celestial brand across the sky.
Yharen screamed.
And Lyra rose.
The battle became a storm.
Fragments of the Realm shattered, collapsing into the void. Lyra moved through them like a comet, her blades singing songs written in forgotten constellations.
With a final cry, she drove both weapons into Yharen's chest.
The General howled, and then… imploded.
Dust, Ash, Silence.
Hours later, aboard the Stellar Vow, Lyra sat on the deck as stars returned to the Emberfissure skies.
Kaelen's voice crackled through the crystal communicator "Status?"
"One down," Lyra said, her voice hoarse. "One Fragment secure. Yharen is gone."
"And you?"
"Still standing."
She looked up.
In the distance, she saw a new constellation burning.
A message.
"What is it?" Nysera asked.
"A sign," Lyra said, narrowing her eyes. "Another General moves."
"Which one?"
"The Pale Serpent," she answered "And he's heading for the Hollow Sanctum."
She rose.
"It's time to confront the Sixth Trial."