The illusion-fire had died down, leaving only embers of warmth between them. Yet the bond had never felt more alive.
A soft chime echoed through the Eclipsed Plane, low and ancient. The sky above them—ink-black and filled with shifting constellations—rippled like a veil torn by unseen hands. A new door appeared from starlight and ash, tall and edged with glowing red runes.
Ravon's body tensed beside her. "The next trial…"
Seraphina rose, brushing ash from her dress. Her eyes locked with his. "We face it together."
The door opened on its own.
Beyond it: heat. Blistering, molten heat.
The air shimmered as they stepped through into a vast cavern of living flame. Rivers of lava flowed through jagged obsidian cliffs, and a red sun blazed overhead without a sky to hold it. Every step felt like walking on the breath of a dragon.
At the heart of the cavern stood a pedestal, and upon it—two blades. Twin daggers forged of shadow and sunfire.
A voice, ancient and female, echoed around them.
> "To pass the Trial of Flesh and Flame… you must bear each other's pain. Wounds of the past. Scars of the soul. Choose to cut, or choose to flee. Love born in fantasy will not survive fire."
Ravon's eyes darkened. "They want us to hurt each other."
"No," Seraphina said quietly. "They want us to trust each other."
She approached the pedestal and took one blade. Ravon followed and took the other.
> "You may only strike once," the voice continued. "Wound not the body—but the truth beneath the skin."
Silence.
Ravon stepped closer to her, his dagger trembling in his hand.
"If I hurt you—"
"You won't," she said. "Not if you trust me."
He looked at her, raw and unguarded. Then slowly… he offered his chest.
"Then take it," he said. "Let your truth cut me."
Her hand shook as she raised the dagger—not from fear, but from the weight of what it meant. This was not just a trial. This was soul-stripping intimacy.
"I saw you, alone on your throne," she whispered. "Feared. Worshiped. Hated. And yet… all you ever wanted was to be chosen. Not out of fear. But love."
She pressed the blade to his skin.
A glowing mark carved itself into his chest—not of pain, but truth. A glowing rune in the shape of her name.
Ravon gasped. His knees buckled, but he didn't fall. "It burns," he whispered. "But it heals."
Then he stepped toward her.
His hand came to her collarbone. Slowly, reverently.
"You carry the weight of everyone's expectations," he said. "Your family, your past, your own heart… You never let anyone see how afraid you are to be left."
His blade touched her skin.
It didn't break her—but it opened her.
A mark formed—a flame-shaped crest, glowing with a soft golden light. She staggered, tears spilling unbidden.
"You saw me…" she breathed. "You really saw me."
The flames of the cavern calmed. The lava stilled.
From the center of the room, a new path opened—one lined with glowing silver petals that floated upward like spirits released.
The voice echoed once more.
> "Trial passed. Flesh laid bare. Flame endured. Love kindled.
Ravon dropped his blade and caught her as she leaned into him, spent but whole.
"I would never hurt you," he whispered. "Not even for the throne of ten thousand worlds."
Seraphina smiled against his chest.
"You already rule the only one that matters," she whispered, pressing her hand to her heart.
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