The valley of Emberfall breathed heat like a dying forge. Ash drifted on every gust, weaving through cracked pillars that leaned at impossible angles. Half-melted runes pulsed faintly across the ruins, not with light but with the memory of fire long extinguished.
As Edrin stepped into the shattered temple grounds, the silver pulse within him thrummed so violently he nearly staggered. The Beacon strained, hungry, as if it recognized this place.
Selene's staff glowed faintly in answer, her lips tight with restraint. "Stay close. The Emberfall feeds on what ties you. If you wander, you will be lost in bonds that are not yours."
Liora scanned the ruins warily, hand never leaving the hilt of her blade. "Bonds? You mean… illusions?"
"No." Selene's voice was grim. "Reflections. The fragments of who you are, twisted by ash and flame."
Edrin's throat tightened. He remembered the Council's words through the Stalker: Every strike you gave, it learned. What would they learn from his heart?
They passed beneath the arch of the central ruin. Immediately the air thickened, hot and suffocating. The world dimmed as though the sun itself recoiled.
Ash swirled into shapes. Faces. Voices.
Edrin froze as he saw them—villagers from his home. Children who had played in the fields. The elder who had taught him to carve wood. His mother's smile. His father's firm hand.
All of them wreathed in flame.
"Edrin." Their voices blended into one, accusing, mournful. "Why did you not save us?"
He stumbled back, silver threads sparking along his arms. "No. I tried. I—"
The Beacon pulsed, and in their eyes the flames shifted. No longer victims of some cosmic fire—victims of his own hands. He saw himself standing in the blaze, silver light spilling from his body, burning all he loved.
"No!" he roared, clutching his chest.
Elsewhere, Liora gritted her teeth as the ruins bent around her.
She stood in a hall that should not exist—walls unbroken, banners of her clan swaying proudly. Warriors cheered her name. And at the end of the hall stood Edrin, smiling… but not the Edrin she knew. His eyes glowed silver, his hand extended not in comfort but in command.
"Join me," the false Edrin whispered. "You don't need Selene. You don't need anyone. Only me. My power is yours, if you give yourself wholly."
Liora's hand shook on her sword. For a moment, the vision felt right—Edrin as a leader, strong, untouchable. Her heart ached with longing she had never confessed. But then she remembered the boy trembling in the ash, clutching his chest, muttering that he could handle it when she knew he couldn't.
"No," she growled, raising her blade. "The Edrin I know doesn't ask me to bow. He asks me to fight beside him."
The false Edrin's smile curdled.
Selene's trial was quieter, crueller.
She walked into a courtyard where time had rewound. There, training in the yard, was her student—Kaelen. The boy with bright eyes who had once begged to touch the Beacon's light. The boy she had failed to protect.
He looked up, grinning. "Master! I did it—I can control it now! Look!"
Silver threads danced along his hands, uncontrolled but eager.
Selene froze, tears pricking her eyes. She remembered the screams, the way the Beacon had consumed him. She had sworn never again.
"You are not real," she whispered. "You are ashes."
But the boy tilted his head. "If I am ash, then why do you weep?"
Her hands trembled on her staff. The memory was a knife, twisting.
The Emberfall thickened with their doubts. Shadows peeled from the pillars, forming into long-limbed wraiths with ember-eyes. Their bodies were smoke stitched by flame, and they fed on the fractures opening between the three travelers.
Edrin, half-blinded by guilt, swung wildly at phantoms that wore his family's faces. Liora slashed at silver-eyed illusions that spoke with Edrin's voice. Selene struck at the ghost of her student, every blow like tearing open her own chest.
The wraiths laughed, voices echoing in triplicate. "Bonds crack. Bonds burn. Bonds break. When all is ash, the Council claims what remains."
Their laughter stoked the flames of doubt.
Edrin fell to his knees, silver spilling uncontrolled from his chest. The Beacon roared, drowning out thought. Destroy them. Bind them. If bonds only break, then sever them yourself.
He clutched his head, screaming. The silver threads lashed outward, striking friend and foe alike. One whip grazed Liora's shoulder, cutting deep. She gasped but held her ground.
"Edrin! Stop!" she shouted. "It's not you—it's them!"
But the Beacon howled louder, pouring power into his veins until his skin felt aflame. He staggered to his feet, eyes burning silver-white. "I… can't—"
Liora threw down her sword. The clang echoed through the ruins. She stepped toward him, bleeding, unarmed.
"You can," she said, voice trembling but fierce. "Because you're not alone. You don't need to hold this flood by yourself. Let us carry it with you."
Her words cut deeper than any blade.
The silver inside him faltered, stuttering between fury and something gentler. The Beacon resisted—but in her eyes, he saw no fear of him, only fear of losing him.
Slowly, painfully, he lowered his hand. The silver threads wavered, then bent—not snapping, not consuming, but weaving. They reached toward Liora, coiling around her hand. She gripped them, as if to say I will not let go.
The wraiths shrieked, their ember-eyes flickering. The bonds had not broken—they had strengthened.
Selene, watching through her own tears, lifted her staff. "So be it."
Her voice rang with command. The golden wards burst outward, chains of light weaving between Edrin's silver and Liora's courage. For the first time, their magics did not repel but entwined.
The ruins shook. The wraiths howled as the threads of bond burned them, unraveling their smoky flesh.
Edrin raised his blade, silver light blazing not in isolation but in chorus with Selene's gold and Liora's steel. Together, they struck.
The Emberfall lit like dawn.
When the ash settled, the ruins were silent once more. The wraiths were gone. The illusions had burned away.
Edrin collapsed, chest heaving, but the Beacon's pulse was quieter now—not subdued, but steadier. As if, for once, it had listened.
Liora knelt beside him, gripping his hand despite the blood on her own arm. "See? You don't carry it alone."
He swallowed hard, nodding.
Selene stood over them, staff trembling. She looked older than she had hours before. "You have endured the Emberfall. But remember—every bond forged here will be tested again. The Council knows now how to hurt you."
Her eyes met Edrin's. "And if they cannot break your bond, they will turn you against it."
Edrin looked at Liora, then at the fading ruins. The weight of her words sank into him like stone.
The Council's shadow loomed ever larger. And though they had survived this trial, he knew—deep down—that each step forward would demand a heavier price.
The war of trials was not ending. It was sharpening.
And the Beacon whispered still.