The road to the Temple of Dawn was unlike any Serenya had ever known. It wound through jagged cliffs where the first rays of sunlight struck the world, casting sharp, golden beams across stone that glittered as if forged from crystal. Wind howled through the canyons, carrying with it the faint sound of chimes—though whether they were of mortal make or echoes of something older, none could say.
Serenya tightened her cloak, the mark of twilight on her collarbone pulsing faintly beneath the fabric. Each step seemed heavier here, as though the land itself resisted her presence. Kaelen walked at her side, silent but steady, his hand never far from the hilt of his blade. Behind them, Lyra followed with determined steps, though her eyes flickered nervously to every shadow that stretched along the cliffs.
The Temple appeared at last, carved into the mountainside like a beacon of defiance against time. Its alabaster pillars rose toward the heavens, though many lay shattered upon the ground. Vines crawled up broken archways, weaving with golden sunlight to form something both ruined and holy. Fires burned in braziers at the entrance, tended by priests whose robes gleamed white and gold.
When they saw Kaelen, whispers rippled through their ranks. The Seal of Dawn on his chest glowed faintly, marking him unmistakably as one touched by Solareth's light. But when their gazes shifted to Serenya, their faces darkened.
The mark at her collarbone flared as if in response to their suspicion.
"Twilight…" one of them murmured, his voice filled with both awe and fear.
Another priest stepped forward. He was tall, his hair white as snow, his face lined with centuries of wisdom. His robes bore the golden sun emblem of the High Seer. His eyes swept across Kaelen, then Lyra, before finally resting on Serenya. He did not look away.
"You bring shadow into the house of dawn," he said, his voice carrying like a bell. "Why?"
Kaelen stepped forward, bowing low. "High Seer, we come seeking guidance. The Veil weakens. Villages fall silent. A darkness gathers—led, perhaps, by the Herald of Night himself. We were told the Temple might hold answers."
The High Seer's gaze lingered on Serenya. "And yet you come bearing twilight."
Serenya lifted her chin, refusing to flinch beneath his scrutiny. "I did not choose this mark. But I will not hide from it. If I am cursed, then let me hear it from the temple itself. If I am chosen, then help me understand why."
A murmur rose among the priests, some with approval, others with disdain.
The High Seer raised his hand, silencing them. "Very well. If you seek truth, then truth must be earned. By trial."
Lyra stiffened. "Trial?"
"The Trial of Dawn," the Seer explained. "It tests not only strength of arms but strength of spirit. It reveals whether one is a servant of light—or a herald of ruin." His eyes hardened. "Will you accept this?"
Kaelen glanced at Serenya. She met his gaze without hesitation. "I accept."
The Seer's lips tightened, as if hoping she would refuse. But he only inclined his head. "So be it. At sunrise tomorrow, the trial begins."
They were given chambers within the ruined temple, their walls painted with fading murals of suns rising over endless fields. Yet the air carried the weight of judgment.
Kaelen sat sharpening his sword, though his eyes kept drifting to Serenya. She sat near the window, moonlight falling over her pale hair. Her fingers brushed the mark at her collarbone, as though trying to soothe its glow.
"You shouldn't have agreed so quickly," Kaelen said at last.
"If I hesitate, they will think me guilty already," she replied softly. "And perhaps I am."
His jaw tightened. "You are not."
"How can you be so certain?" She turned toward him, her eyes fierce yet weary. "Everywhere I go, shadows follow. Even in my dreams, he is there—the Herald, watching, waiting. Sometimes I fear that he isn't coming for me. Sometimes I fear he is already within me."
Kaelen rose, crossing the chamber. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his calloused grip. "Serenya. Whatever you carry, whatever this mark means—it does not define you. I have seen your courage. Your kindness. That is who you are."
For a moment, the weight pressing on her chest eased. She wanted to believe him. Needed to.
Lyra, who had been pretending to sleep nearby, opened her eyes, watching them quietly. A flicker of both hope and worry danced across her features.
At dawn, the temple bells rang. The priests gathered in the central sanctum, a vast hall open to the rising sun. Pillars of marble framed the sky, and in the center lay a circle of engraved runes glowing faintly gold.
The High Seer stood at its edge. "Step forward, children of fate."
Serenya and Kaelen entered the circle. The air shimmered, and suddenly the sanctum dissolved.
They found themselves standing in a vast plain of light and shadow. The sky burned with both sun and moon, clashing overhead. Figures formed from brilliance and darkness rose around them—guardians of the trial.
"The Trial of Dawn," a voice echoed, not of man but of the world itself. "To wield both light and shadow is to walk a blade's edge. Prove you can endure, or be consumed."
The guardians attacked.
Kaelen met them head-on, his sword flashing with golden light. Each strike sang with the Seal of Dawn's power, cutting through shadow-formed foes. But for every enemy he felled, another rose.
Serenya's heart raced. When she raised her hand, shadows coiled from her mark, forming blades of twilight that cut sharper than steel. Yet each time she struck, the guardians recoiled not in defeat but in recognition, as though bowing to her.
"Do you see?" a voice whispered in her ear, though no one stood beside her. "They know you. They serve you."
The Herald. His voice slithered into her mind, silk and poison.
Kaelen shouted her name, but it was distant, drowned by the whispers. Images flared before her eyes: herself standing beside the Herald, Solareth burning beneath her feet, Kaelen broken at her side.
"No!" she gasped, clutching her head.
The guardians closed in, sensing weakness. Kaelen fought desperately to shield her, his blade flashing faster, his breaths ragged. "Serenya! Fight it! You are not his!"
Her mark burned, agony and power mingling. The whispers urged surrender. But then she heard Kaelen's voice again, not as a shout but as a memory, steady and unyielding: Whatever you carry, it does not define you.
She thrust out her hand. Instead of letting shadow consume, she willed it to balance. Twilight surged, not to destroy but to bind. The guardians froze, half-light, half-shadow, locked in harmony.
The plain trembled. The trial dissolved.
Serenya and Kaelen collapsed in the sanctum, the runes beneath them blazing gold. The priests watched in stunned silence.
The High Seer approached slowly, his face unreadable. "Never before have I seen the Trial answered so. To bind light and shadow… perhaps you are more dangerous than I feared. Or perhaps you are the only hope we have left."
He raised his staff. "Hear the prophecy, child of twilight. When the Veil cracks, the Twilight Child must choose: light or night, crown or ruin. And the choice will break the world."
Serenya's breath caught. The words sank like stones into her soul.
Before she could ask more, a priest rushed in, face pale. "High Seer! News from the borders. The shadow has already consumed the outlands. And Lord Malrik—he has declared the princess a traitor. He says she is the Herald's bride, and calls for her execution."
The chamber erupted in chaos.
Serenya stood frozen, her heart pounding. In one night, she had proven her strength—and lost her kingdom.
Kaelen stepped in front of her, sword in hand, defiance burning in his eyes. Lyra gripped Serenya's arm, her voice trembling.
"Then we run," Lyra whispered. "We run before Malrik makes the whole world believe his lies."
But Serenya's gaze fixed on the sunlight streaming through the sanctum's broken roof. She was no longer sure whether running would be enough.
For the Herald's voice lingered in her mind, soft and certain:
"The light will fail. And when it does, you will stand at my side."