The battlefield pulsed with fractured light, jagged stones reflecting a sky torn between violet and gold. Kaelith moved like a predator, shadows curling and snapping around him, his molten gaze never leaving me.
"You endure well, Eryndor," he hissed, voice low and venomous. "But the fragments… they are not yours to command. Every heartbeat, every choice… they are slipping through your grasp."
I raised the Shattered Sky, fragments flaring violently, but even as I prepared to counter, I felt it—the gnawing exhaustion, the subtle tremor of my hands, the whisper of ambition that I could not fully silence. The fragments themselves were alive, testing me with each pulse.
"Focus, Eryndor," Lysara warned, her wings flickering faintly. "They are testing your soul as much as your body. You must not let them corrupt you."
A sudden shiver ran through the air. The fractured sky above shimmered unnaturally, and a voice—deep, resonant, and divine—echoed across the jagged stones.
"Mortal… bearer of fragments…"
The voice carried authority beyond comprehension, vibrating through the ground, the air, and even the fragments in my hands. My chest tightened, and the shards pulsed nervously, as if recognizing the presence.
"The gods are watching," Lysara said softly, almost to herself. "They have taken notice of Kaelith… and of you. Every choice you make, every fragment you wield, is being judged. You must endure."
Kaelith's grin widened, sensing the subtle shift in the battlefield. "Ah… the mighty gods themselves are curious. Do you feel it, Eryndor? Their eyes upon you. The fragments whisper more urgently now, urging haste, power, dominance… they know you are being tested."
I took a deep breath, fragments flaring to life. Flame roared, water shimmered, shadow twisted, clarity pulsed. I had to focus, not only on Kaelith but on the subtle corruption gnawing at my body and mind. Each strike, each defensive maneuver, was a battle against him—and against myself.
Kaelith lunged, shadows striking like jagged lightning. I countered with flame, tempered with water. Shadow bent to reveal hidden attacks, clarity pierced the illusions the battlefield threw at me. Yet even as I fought, I felt fatigue deepen, hallucinations flickering at the edge of my vision—glimpses of myself surrendering, of mortals I had saved being consumed, whispers urging me to seize power, abandon restraint.
"Endure," I whispered to myself, teeth gritted. "Do not let them take me… not yet."
The fragments pulsed violently, as if responding to my will. I felt a surge of harmony—flame, water, shadow, clarity all moving as one, guiding me, protecting me. The whispers receded slightly, though I knew they were only biding their time.
Kaelith staggered, shadows flickering, his eyes narrowing. "Impressive… mortal. But even harmony has limits. And limits… can be broken."
The ground trembled, fragments vibrating violently in my hands, and I realized the truth: the gods' presence was more than observation. Their power subtly influenced the fragments, testing both Kaelith and me, amplifying the trials, pushing both of us to extremes.
"This… this is far from over," Lysara murmured, wings trembling. "You have survived another trial… but the gods will demand more. And Kaelith… he will return, stronger, more cunning. The fragments are alive, and they hunger. Remember that, Eryndor."
I stood amidst the fractured stones, gripping the shards tightly, every pulse a reminder of the subtle corruption gnawing at me. Kaelith had not been defeated; he had only been tested. And the gods… were watching, ready to intervene, judge, and escalate the trials yet to come.
I was Eryndor, bearer of the Shattered Sky. Mortal, bridge, and now aware that the Age of Gods was not only about battles with mortals and fragments—but also about surviving the gaze and influence of the gods themselves.
The true trials had only begun.