The morning after the battle was heavy with silence.
Sylvaris—the city of eternal green light—was scarred. Marble towers bore cracks, the streets still stained with black residue that hissed faintly in the dawn air. The once lively plazas where merchants sang and children played were now filled with ashes and broken weapons.
And everywhere… the smell of death.
Rihan walked slowly behind Elira and Lyra through the ruined plaza. His body still ached, the memory of the radiant blast he had unleashed seared into his bones. Every step felt like dragging a mountain.
Elves lined the streets, carrying their fallen kin wrapped in silver cloths. Soft hymns echoed, a mournful song that made the air itself tremble. Rihan had never seen such sorrow before— not even in his own world's funerals. There, people cried. But here, in Sylvaris, grief was sung, woven into magic that painted the air with shimmering threads.
It was beautiful. And it was unbearable.
---
At the Heartstone plaza, a great fire had been lit. The flames were golden, not consuming, but transforming. The elves laid the dead before it, and as the flames touched them, their bodies dissolved into motes of green light, ascending like stars into the sky.
Lyra stood beside Rihan, her face pale but resolute. "Our people return to the Source when they fall. Their spirits become one with Sylvaris, strengthening the wards."
Rihan swallowed hard. "Back in my world… we just bury them. This feels… different. Like they're still here."
Lyra nodded. "They are. But the pain of their absence is no less sharp."
Elira, standing tall despite the bandages wrapped around her arm, tightened her grip on her sword. Her eyes burned—not with tears, but with fury. "This was no random attack. The corruption targeted the city. It knew where to strike."
Rihan frowned. "Wait. Are you saying… it has intelligence?"
Elira's silence was answer enough.
---
Later that day, they were summoned to the Council of Sylvaris.
The council chamber was a vast hall carved from living crystal, branches of silver trees twined around the walls, their leaves glowing faintly. The surviving council members sat in a circle, their faces grim.
High Seer Aelthar, an elf with hair like white flame, addressed them. "The corruption has grown bold. To pierce the wards of Sylvaris is no mere act of chance. This invasion was guided… perhaps by a will we cannot yet see."
The elves murmured, their voices tight with unease.
Aelthar's gaze turned to Rihan. "And then… there is you, Outsider. The light you wield is not of Arcanis, yet it burns the corruption as if born for that very purpose."
Rihan scratched the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, well, don't give me too much credit. Half the time I don't even know what I'm doing."
Some council members frowned, but Aelthar only smiled faintly. "And yet, destiny seldom asks if we are ready."
Elira stepped forward. "High Seer, what are your orders?"
Aelthar's voice grew solemn. "There is one path before us. The Trial of Purity in the Cavern of Echoes. It is said that those who pass may cleanse their spirit and draw closer to the truth of their power. If the Outsider is to aid us, he must undertake it."
The hall fell silent.
Rihan blinked. "A trial? In a place called the Cavern of Echoes? That doesn't sound ominous at all."
Elira shot him a look. "This is no joke, Rihan. Many enter. Few return."
"Great," Rihan muttered. "Exactly the kind of motivational pep talk I needed."
Lyra touched his arm gently. "But if you succeed… perhaps you will learn why the light chose you."
---
That night, as the city rested uneasily, Rihan lay awake in the guest chambers provided for them. The moonlight filtered through crystal windows, painting the room in silver glow.
He turned his hand, staring at the faint afterglow still lingering on his skin. The blade of light he had summoned earlier was gone, but the memory of its weight remained.
"Chosen one, huh?" he whispered bitterly. "More like accident-prone idiot…"
Suddenly—
Thrum.
His vision blurred. The room darkened.
He found himself standing in a void, black as ink. From the darkness, whispers crawled into his ears—sibilant, hungry.
"…you burn so brightly… but light casts shadows…"
"…accept us… wield us… become balance…"
A shape emerged—a mirror of himself, but its eyes glowed red, and shadows coiled around its frame like smoke.
Rihan froze. His reflection smiled.
"You can't run from me. I am you. And soon, you'll see… the light is not enough."
The void cracked.
Rihan jolted awake, sweat dripping down his face. His hand trembled violently.
The System chimed faintly in his head:
[Warning: Corruption resonance detected.]
[Purity unstable. Trial of Purity required immediately.]
Rihan stared at the glowing words, heart pounding.
"Guess I don't have a choice, huh?" he muttered.
Outside, the city of Sylvaris slept uneasily, unaware that the fate of their world rested on a boy who barely knew how to hold his own sword.