The battlefield stilled as if the universe itself was holding its breath. Lyra's cry still echoed in the fractured sky, and all around her, champions, allies, and enemies alike stood in stunned silence. Even the Echo-Lord's revenants froze, their shadowed forms trembling as if waiting for some unseen signal.
And then the heavens tore open.
---
The Splintering of the Sky
The firmament cracked like glass under impossible strain. Fissures spread outward in every direction, glowing white-hot, before collapsing inward to reveal yawning rifts. Through them came fleets, each more terrifying than the last, each carrying banners of power that had been whispered about in fear for centuries.
From the largest rift emerged the Eclipse Armada, Admiral Veyric's colossal warfleet. Their black-and-silver dreadnoughts blotted out the stars, bristling with siege cannons large enough to cleave moons. The void seemed to bow under their arrival.
A shimmering veil peeled back next, revealing the Oracles of the Veil. Their ships were neither entirely real nor illusion, their forms shifting like water. Every glimpse carried omens, every hull marked with runes that flickered with half-truths.
Then came the Crimson Harrowers, Kaelith's zealot legions. Their warbeasts—part machine, part abomination—shrieked as they burst through the rifts. Their fleets burned crimson with bloodlight, chanting war-prayers that turned the air into fire.
Last, and darkest of all, shadows poured into the cracks themselves: the Echo-Lord's revenants. They didn't arrive in ships—they were the void, pouring like liquid smoke across the horizon. Every star dimmed as their presence spread.
The sky became a theater of factions, each vying for the Seed that pulsed within Lyra's chest. The trial had outgrown its stage.
---
Lyra's Breaking Point
Lyra staggered, her body trembling under the weight of their collective hunger. Each faction's arrival was like another claw digging into her mind. She clutched at her chest as if she could physically hold the Seed inside her.
Kaelen caught her before she collapsed. "Lyra—look at me." His voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed fear.
"I can't," she whispered, her eyes burning white. "They're inside me, Kaelen. All of them. I feel their wars, their greed, their screams. I can't hold it much longer—"
"You don't have to," he growled, drawing her close. "We hold it together. Always."
But behind him, Seris rose again, bloodied but unbroken. His glaive reformed with a hiss of energy. "She won't last. When she breaks, whoever claims her wins the galaxy."
Althira landed beside them, her blade humming with shadows. She sneered at Seris but did not deny his words. Her gaze locked on Lyra, hard and sharp, yet beneath it flickered something dangerously close to pity.
---
The Architects' Proclamation
The three Architects—those timeless arbiters of the Seed—lifted their faceless visages. Their voices merged into a single seismic command that rattled bones and bent the frozen sea around them.
"The Labyrinth opens. The Seed awakens. Judgment comes to all who covet its light."
Their words shattered the air.
---
The Clash Begins
Admiral Veyric appeared in a column of shadowlight, his armor black as obsidian, crowned with silver. His voice cut across the battlefield like a blade.
"The Seed belongs to the Armada. Surrender her now, or be broken beneath our eclipse."
From the spectral fleet, Seer Azhira stepped forward, eyes glowing with unearthly radiance. Her voice was soft, yet it carried into every mind.
"No, Admiral. The Seed has already chosen. And I will guide it—not to power, but to destiny."
The Crimson Harrowers roared in answer, Kaelith's zealots beating their armor in rhythm as their beasts bellowed. "Blood to fire! Fire to void!"
Then came the whispering tide: revenants, countless and formless, slithering across the battlefield. A chorus of voices hissed as one, their tone colder than the void.
"All flesh, all fire, all stars… shall be consumed."
The factions erupted.
---
The Seed's Call
Lyra fell to her knees, Kaelen's arms the only thing stopping her from crumpling into the frozen ground. The Seed pulsed with unbearable light, synchronizing with the chaos around them.
But amidst the storm, she felt something else. A thread of quiet. A door hidden inside the maelstrom of voices.
"Kaelen…" she whispered, barely able to speak. "There's… a path. Inside the Seed. If I follow it… I might stop this."
He looked at her, torn between fear and faith. "Then we go together."
The Architects raised their hands.
The battlefield dissolved. Walls of light twisted into endless corridors, labyrinthine and infinite. Fleets, factions, champions—all were swallowed into its glowing maze.
The trial had shifted into its final phase.
The Labyrinth of Infinity awaited.
---