The moment Sylas stepped into the circle surrounding the altar, the air thickened, as if pressing down on his chest with invisible weight. The walls of the temple rumbled, and a deep resonance echoed from the stone tablet before him. Alira stood just beyond the circle, her eyes wide with concern, her fingers twitching toward the hilt of her blade—though they both knew brute strength would be useless here.
A beam of light descended from the ceiling, illuminating the altar in a soft blue glow. The ancient glyphs carved into the stone began to shift and rearrange, forming symbols that pulsed in rhythm with Sylas's heartbeat.
Suddenly, a voice—not spoken aloud but resonating directly within his mind—pierced the silence.
"To claim the Heart, you must bare your own."
Without warning, Sylas's vision blurred, and the temple around him dissolved into mist. He blinked and found himself standing in a place he hadn't seen in years—a small village nestled beside a quiet river. His village.
The sounds of laughter and birdsong filled the air, and he saw familiar faces. His father, strong and smiling. His mother, tending the garden. His younger brother chasing after a wooden toy sword.
It wasn't real. He knew that. But the ache in his chest was.
He took a step forward—and everything froze. The laughter vanished. The colors dulled. And a dark figure emerged from the mist, cloaked in shadows and exuding a pressure that threatened to crush him.
"You left them to die," the figure said, its voice echoing like distant thunder. "You chose power. You chose vengeance."
Sylas's fists clenched. "I didn't choose their deaths. I wasn't strong enough to stop it. But I've sworn to make sure no one else suffers the way they did."
The figure raised a hand, and the scene shifted again. Now he stood in the ruins of the Celestial Court, watching as flames engulfed the marble towers. Lin's body lay broken among the rubble, her eyes lifeless, her final breath stolen by betrayal.
"No," Sylas whispered, stumbling backward. "This hasn't happened."
"Not yet," the figure replied. "But it will—if you fail. Your strength means nothing if your heart remains shackled by guilt, fear, and rage."
Sylas sank to his knees, breathing hard. The images burned in his mind, too real to dismiss as illusions. But somewhere inside, a small, unyielding light remained.
"I will carry my guilt," he said slowly. "I will carry the pain, the fear—but I will not let them control me. I will walk this path not for revenge, but for hope. For redemption."
A long silence followed.
Then, the shadows peeled away. The mist lifted. Sylas opened his eyes to find himself once more in the temple, standing before the altar. The glowing glyphs shifted again, and a new inscription burned itself into the stone:
"Heart Unburdened. Trial Passed."
Alira rushed to him as he stumbled out of the circle. "You were gone for minutes," she said, gripping his arm. "What happened in there?"
Sylas looked at her, eyes heavy with emotion. "I faced myself. And for the first time… I forgave what I couldn't change."
Alira smiled faintly. "Then the real journey begins."
The altar rumbled, and a hidden passage opened behind it, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. The next step in their quest was clear.
Sylas turned to Alira. "Are you ready?"
She drew her blade, her eyes burning with determination. "Always."
Together, they stepped into the depths, toward whatever destiny awaited them beyond the veil of stone and shadow.