The rune carved above her chosen door shimmered pale blue, shaped like an open eye surrounded by sparks of light. It seemed to watch her as she approached, unblinking, endless.
Maren hesitated. Her hands trembled against her staff. She glanced once at the others—Carlos with fire in his eyes, Lys steady as stone, Rina smirking through her nerves, Thalor unbowed. Each of them carried strength earned through fire and pain.
What did she carry?
She drew a breath, pressed her palm against the rune, and let the door take her.
She emerged into a world of silence.
The chamber was circular, its walls smooth and seamless, its ceiling lost in shadow. The air shimmered faintly, as if charged with magic. At the center of the room stood a mirror, tall and framed with runes.
Her reflection stared back.
But the face in the glass wasn't hers.
Its eyes glowed like burning stars, its mouth curved into a cruel smile. Power rippled around it like a storm.
"You know me," the reflection said, voice like hers yet deeper, filled with hunger. "I am what you fear most. I am the power you cannot control."
Maren's stomach turned cold. She gripped her staff tighter. "No. You're not me."
The reflection stepped out of the mirror, the glass rippling like water. When its feet touched the floor, cracks spidered outward, glowing with blue fire.
"You've buried me for years," it whispered, circling her. "Afraid to use me. Afraid of what I'd do if unleashed. But tell me, little mage… what happens when holding back means letting your friends die?"
Visions slammed into her mind. Carlos engulfed in flames. Lys pinned beneath rubble. Rina strangled by chains of shadow. Thalor torn apart by spectral warriors.
Her friends—her family—destroyed because she hadn't unleashed her full strength.
"No!" she screamed, clutching her head.
The reflection laughed, the sound echoing like breaking glass. Its hands blazed with energy, brighter and wilder than anything Maren had ever dared summon. Bolts of crackling lightning struck the floor, exploding into arcs that tore chunks from the chamber walls.
"This is what you could be," it hissed. "A force of ruin. A storm without end. Why fight me, when you could become me?"
Maren raised her staff, her voice trembling. "Because I'm not just power. I'm more than this."
The reflection tilted its head. "Prove it."
It attacked.
The chamber erupted in chaos. Blades of light sliced through the air, each swing of the reflection's staff tearing reality itself. Maren dodged, deflecting with shields that cracked under the strain. Her staff thrummed with raw magic, desperate to be released.
But every time she cast, the reflection mirrored her spell—stronger, sharper, crueler. Fire met fire, ice shattered against ice, bolts of lightning clashed midair.
It was herself she was fighting. Herself unleashed.
Her knees buckled. Sweat streamed down her face. Her arms ached from holding back the tide.
The reflection loomed over her, staff raised for the final strike. "You can't beat me. You are me."
Maren's breath caught. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe she couldn't destroy the part of her she feared most.
But maybe she didn't need to.
She lowered her staff.
The reflection froze.
"I'm done running from you," Maren whispered. Her voice shook, but it carried. "You're my power. My fear. My shadow. You've always been part of me. But you don't control me."
Her hand glowed, soft and steady, not blazing like fire or roaring like thunder. Just steady. She reached forward.
The reflection snarled, swinging its staff down—only to falter as her hand touched its chest.
Light spread outward. Not violent, not destructive. Gentle. Encompassing.
The reflection shuddered. Its cruel grin faltered. Its blazing eyes dimmed. Slowly, it dissolved into streams of blue fire that sank into Maren's body. The storm quieted.
The Helm's voice whispered:
"Acceptance. Control. Balance. The Trial of the Self is complete."
A crystal hovered in the air before her, glowing with soft azure light. She pressed it to her chest, feeling it merge with her heartbeat, not burning or breaking her—simply becoming part of her.
She staggered, gasping, but the fear in her chest was different now. It wasn't a weight dragging her down. It was a reminder of what she carried, and what she could choose to do with it.
The chamber melted away.
Maren opened her eyes to find herself back in the Citadel's central hall. The other four were there, each marked by their own trial, their eyes carrying secrets they weren't ready to speak.
For the first time since entering the Helm's world, Maren didn't lower her gaze. She met Carlos's eyes, then Lys's, then Rina's, then Thalor's.
She was still afraid. But she was ready.
And she wasn't alone.