The golden light shifted from Carlos to Thalor, wrapping him in a heavy glow that felt more like chains than illumination. He stiffened, bracing instinctively, though his battered shield arm trembled from exhaustion.
"Thalor…" Maren began, but her words cut off as the Spire pulsed, and he vanished.
The Battlefield Without End
When Thalor opened his eyes, he stood upon a field of broken stone beneath a storm-choked sky. The ground was littered with shattered weapons, dented armor, and countless bodies, their faces obscured by shadow. Smoke rolled in choking waves, carrying with it the smell of iron and ash.
He recognized the place, though he had never been here before. It was every battlefield at once — the distilled essence of war.
A familiar weight tugged at his arm. He looked down. His shield was whole again, gleaming and unscarred, its surface reflecting lightning from the storm above. Relief flickered through him before suspicion returned.
Thunder cracked. Figures emerged from the smoke — dozens, then hundreds, soldiers with hollow eyes and broken armor. Some bore his insignia, others were strangers, yet all carried the same look of expectation. They circled him in silence, waiting.
Then came the voices.
"You will hold the line, Thalor.""You will keep us safe.""You will not falter."
Each phrase cut deeper than any blade. He had heard them all before — from comrades, from villagers, from strangers who believed a man with a shield could stop the world's cruelty. He had carried those words, and the weight of them had nearly broken him.
The army of shades raised their weapons in salute. Behind them, in the storm, a monstrous shape loomed — towering, faceless, dripping shadows that fell like rivers. Its roar split the sky.
The soldiers turned to Thalor, eyes empty but pleading. "Protect us."
The Impossible Line
The monster surged forward, each step shaking the earth. The soldiers shrank back, but none moved to fight. Their gazes pinned Thalor in place, demanding, begging.
He lifted his shield.
The shadow-beast struck.
The force rattled through his arm, his bones screaming. The shield held, but only barely. Cracks spidered across its surface. The soldiers behind him sighed in relief, their faith renewed.
Another blow fell. Then another. Each strike tore more strength from his body, each impact heavier than the last. His legs buckled, his arm burned, but he did not lower the shield. He had never lowered the shield.
The beast's claws raked down, sending fire through his muscles. The soldiers murmured behind him. "You will hold. You must hold."
He gritted his teeth, braced for another strike.
The Whisper of Release
And then, in the chaos, he heard a different voice. Soft. Gentle. Inside his own mind.
"You don't have to."
Thalor staggered. For a moment, the shield nearly slipped.
The voice deepened, weaving like silk through his thoughts. "You have carried this burden too long. Always the shield, always the wall. But who shields you? Who protects you?"
The beast's next strike slammed into the shield, nearly toppling him. He grunted, veins straining, but the whisper pressed harder.
"Lay it down. No one will blame you. They ask too much. They always have. Put it down, and rest."
The weight of the shield grew unbearable. His knees cracked as he sank lower, the army's faith a dagger in his back. His vision blurred with sweat and blood.
Part of him longed to obey — to cast the shield aside, let the beast crash through, let the voices fall silent forever.
He could finally be free.
The Faces Behind the Faith
But in the crowd of hollow-eyed soldiers, shapes shifted. Five faces emerged from the mass: Carlos, Rina, Lys, Maren, and others who had once stood beside him on real battlefields. Their eyes weren't hollow. They weren't pleading.
They were trusting.
Not demanding that he be perfect. Not demanding he save them alone. Trusting him to stand with them, not for them.
The whisper fought back, acidic. "They will fall, as all the others have. Their trust is a curse. Drop the shield. Let them see the truth — that you cannot save them."
Thalor's teeth ground together. He remembered nights by the fire, Rina mocking his seriousness, Lys's quiet vigilance, Maren's relentless hope. He remembered Carlos, bloodied but unbroken, standing by him even when others fled.
He remembered not being alone.
And he understood.
The Choice
The beast reared for its final strike, a claw wide enough to crush mountains. The army shrieked for salvation. The whisper begged for surrender.
Thalor raised the shield high. But this time, he shouted, his voice tearing the storm apart:
"I don't carry this alone!"
The shield blazed with light, brighter than lightning, brighter than the storm. The cracks sealed, its surface expanding until it formed a wall that stretched across the battlefield.
The beast struck — and the wall did not shatter. The impact echoed like thunder, but the shield held, not because of his strength alone, but because of the strength of all who had stood with him, all who trusted him, all who fought beside him.
The monster wailed, its shadow unraveling into mist. The army of hollow-eyed soldiers dissolved into ash. The storm cleared, and the field was silent once more.
Thalor lowered the shield, chest heaving. The whisper was gone.
For the first time in years, the weight on his arm felt lighter.
Return to the Heart
The battlefield dissolved into golden light, and Thalor staggered back into the Heart-Spire's chamber. The crystalline walls pulsed in acknowledgment, the heartbeat slow and steady.
Carlos caught him as he swayed, the concern in his eyes unspoken but fierce.
Thalor gave a weary grin. "Still standing."
Rina arched a brow. "Barely."
Lys studied him carefully. "What did you see?"
Thalor adjusted the strap of his shield arm, though no shield remained. His voice was steady, quiet but resolute. "I saw the weight of the line. And I saw that I don't have to bear it alone."
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the Spire's pulse. Then Carlos nodded, conviction sharpening his features.
The golden glow shifted again, sliding away from Thalor. It coiled around Rina now, twining up her arms like binding chains of light. She stiffened, cursing under her breath as the Spire's will dragged her forward.
Thalor placed a hand on her shoulder before she vanished. "Whatever it shows you — remember, you don't face it alone."
The light flared. Rina was gone.