The staircase ended in silence.
A great obsidian door opened on its own, revealing a vast chamber lit by a single silver flame. The walls shimmered with runes, each pulsing like a heartbeat.
At the center stood an altar of black stone, and upon it—three pedestals. Each pedestal bore a carving: a wolf, a dragon, and a human figure with outstretched hands.
The Keeper's voice resonated, neither cruel nor kind:
"Those who wish to ascend must leave behind what they hold most dear. The path to the Star cannot be walked without sacrifice."
Prava froze. "Leave… behind?"
The pedestals glowed, and visions appeared above them:
For Rafael, it was his pack—his brothers and sisters of the Wolf tribe, howling for him.
For Allara, her dragon kin, the legacy of fire that defined her bloodline.
For Prava, it was her friends themselves—Allara and Rafael—standing beside her, holding out their hands.
Her heart wrenched. "No… they're asking me to—"
Allara's fists shook. "If we give this up… do we lose it forever?"
The Keeper did not answer. The silence was answer enough.
Rafael bared his teeth, stepping closer to Prava.
"They want to break us apart. To make us choose between duty and each other."
The silver flame flickered higher, pressing against their hearts. Doubt gnawed at them, the weight of the decision sinking deep.
Prava tightened her grip on the Heart Key, tears burning her eyes.
"No. I won't abandon anyone. If sacrifice is demanded… then let it be me. My life, if that is the price."
The altar trembled, as though acknowledging her words. The flame dimmed for a moment—hesitating.
And then, a whisper:
"True sacrifice is not in surrendering others… but in being willing to give yourself."
The chamber shifted, runes lighting up, the pedestals dissolving into light. The path forward revealed itself.
They had passed—not by losing each other, but by refusing to.