The rune above Thalor's chosen door glowed a deep bronze, shaped like a shield crossed with a sword. He stood silently before it, his massive frame outlined in the Citadel's faint firelight.
For a moment, he glanced at the others. He gave no speech, no farewell, but the slight dip of his head spoke volumes. Then, without hesitation, he pressed his hand to the rune.
The door swallowed him whole.
Thalor blinked into a battlefield.
The sky above churned with ash, streaked by fire. The ground was a wasteland of mud, broken weapons, and the bodies of fallen comrades. The stench of blood and smoke filled the air, a scent he knew too well.
He was back on the field where he had once led his sworn brothers into battle.
And where most of them had never returned.
The Helm's voice reverberated in his skull:
"You swore an oath of loyalty. But what is loyalty when it leads to ruin? Choose now, Thalor, where your allegiance lies."
Across the battlefield, shapes began to rise from the mud. His brothers-in-arms, men he had trained, fought beside, bled with. Their eyes glowed with unnatural fire, their skin pale and lifeless.
They were dead. He had buried them himself.
"Thalor…" one of them rasped, stepping forward, his armor rusted, his face split by scars. "Why didn't you save us?"
Another raised a broken spear, pointing it at him. "You swore you'd lead us to victory. Instead, you led us to the grave."
The memories crashed down on him like a siege ram. He remembered every order shouted, every desperate retreat, every last cry as the enemy overwhelmed them.
He raised his shield. "I did all I could. I fought at your side until the end."
The fallen warriors surged toward him.
Thalor roared, slamming his shield into the first, crushing bone and metal. His sword flashed, cleaving through another. But for every one he struck down, two more appeared. Their voices pierced him more than their blades.
"You abandoned us.""You live while we rot.""Your loyalty meant nothing."
A spear slipped past his guard, stabbing into his thigh. Pain seared him, but he fought on, blood soaking his armor. His shield arm shook under the endless barrage.
His heart thundered with doubt. Were they right? Was his loyalty a lie? He had sworn to protect them, yet here he stood alone.
The Helm's voice cut in again:
"What is loyalty, Thalor? Blind devotion? Or the strength to choose when to stand… and when to let go?"
Another blow sent him sprawling into the mud. The undead circle tightened, blades glinting.
For the first time in years, he hesitated. His oath, his life's creed, seemed like chains pulling him down. Had he been wrong all along?
But then, through the haze of pain and despair, he saw faces not of the fallen—but of the living.
Carlos, with fire in his eyes.Lys, steady as the bow she carried.Rina, her grin defiant even against impossible odds.Maren, fragile but unyielding, her magic a beacon of light.
They were his shield-brothers and sisters now.
His loyalty hadn't died on that battlefield. It had transformed. It had endured.
With a growl, Thalor pushed himself to his feet. "I failed you," he admitted, voice echoing across the field. "I couldn't save you then. But I carry you still—in every battle, in every oath, in every blow I strike for the living!"
His shield blazed with golden light. The undead hesitated, their fire dimming.
"You are gone," he said, lifting his sword high. "But my loyalty remains. And it belongs to those who still fight beside me!"
He slammed his shield into the ground. Light erupted outward in a shockwave, blasting the fallen away. Their cries rose into the storming sky before they dissolved into ash.
Only silence remained.
In the center of the ruined battlefield, a crystal floated down, glowing bronze like forged steel.
Thalor reached for it, pressing it to his chest. Warmth spread through him, a steadying weight settling over his heart. His wounds vanished, his shield gleamed unbroken, and his strength returned—not the strength of one man, but of a bond unbroken.
The Helm's voice whispered:
"Loyalty chosen. The Trial of Brotherhood is complete."
The battlefield faded into nothing.
Thalor stood once more in the chamber of doors, his shoulders squared, his breath steady. Carlos and Lys were waiting. Rina leaned against a pillar, twirling her dagger idly.
They looked different. All of them. Hardened. Changed.
Thalor gave a single nod, the unspoken message clear: I am still with you. Until the end.