The towering silhouette of the Deep Choir's Cathedral loomed larger with every step. It was a monstrous structure, not built but *grown*—coral bones rising in defiance of gravity, glass domes filled with black seawater, and bells that had not rung in centuries. The air was dense, pressing against their skin like water, as if they were already submerged.
Jun Mo Xie led the group, the Ember pulsing in his chest like a drumbeat of fate. Every rune they passed lit up and faded behind them, creating a trail that could not be retraced.
Mei Yun drew her blade, murmuring, "I don't like being invited into a place that was sealed for a reason."
Lan Xue whispered, "It's not an invitation. It's a test."
Inside the cathedral, the temperature dropped. The floor was made of translucent crystal, beneath which fish-like shadows swam in slow, circular motions. Each stained-glass window displayed unfamiliar constellations and gods no longer named. The scent of salt and silence was suffocating.
At the center of the vast hall stood a choir of statues, their mouths open in silent song. And beyond them—
—a throne of barnacles and broken instruments.
Elder Shao fell to one knee. "This is sacred ground. Even the Sovereigns feared it."
Fei Yan narrowed her eyes. "Then why is it *awake*?"
Suddenly, the throne stirred.
From its base rose a figure. Not entirely human. Not entirely spirit. Tall, draped in layers of oceanic silk, and crowned with coral antlers. Its voice echoed through the chamber—not through sound, but through thought.
**"Who walks the path of remembrance?"**
Jun stepped forward. "I do. Jun Mo Xie. Heir to nothing, bearer of fire."
The Sovereign of Echoes studied him. Its eyes were voids, pulling in light and memory. **"You have stirred my Choir. Broken the seal. Will you sing, or will you silence?"**
"I will choose," Jun said. "My own harmony."
A low tremor rumbled through the floor. Statues cracked. The stained-glass windows shifted. Behind Jun, his companions readied their weapons—but the Sovereign raised a hand.
**"Then be tested."**
With a wave, the entire cathedral shimmered—and became a stage.
One by one, each of them was pulled into a personal illusion.
Yue Ling found herself back in the arena of her youth, surrounded by the ghosts of rivals she had failed to save. Her hands bled from gripping the spear too tightly, her screams unanswered in the roar of a thousand silent spectators. She dropped to her knees, not in surrender, but in prayer to those she lost, promising she would never forget them again.
Fei Yan walked the ruins of her old sect, where shadows whispered her real name—a name she had discarded to survive. Her reflection appeared in every broken window, accusing her of forgetting who she was. In the heart of the ruins, she found her old training blade buried in ash, and when she picked it up, the whispers ceased.
Lan Xue stood before her dying mother, who asked, "Was your ice meant to protect, or to hide?" The cold clung to her skin like guilt, spreading cracks in her resolve. But then, her mother's eyes softened, and with a final breath, said, "Then let it protect you first, and others after."
Mei Yun faced her reflection—one where she had accepted the power of the storm and become a tyrant. Lightning danced in her eyes, and the winds screamed her name in fear, not respect. Yet the tyrant version of herself smiled and said, "We are not so different, you and I. But your storm is still yours to guide."
And Jun Mo Xie?
He stood alone in an endless hallway, lined with mirrors. Each one showed a different version of himself.
A tyrant.
A martyr.
A god.
A corpse.
From the far end came footsteps.
His old self—the weak, frightened boy who watched his family die—approached. No anger. No blame.
Just a question:
"Was it worth it?"
Jun hesitated. "Not yet."
"Then keep walking."
The mirrors shattered. The illusions ended.
Each of them returned to the cathedral—scarred, shaken, but unchanged in purpose.
The Sovereign of Echoes nodded.
**"You may leave. The Choir will not hinder your path."**
"But will *you*?" Jun asked.
The Sovereign turned away.
**"Not yet. But the melody is rising. And when it reaches its crescendo..."**
Silence.
---
Outside, the marsh had receded.
The sky was clear.
But the Ember was burning hotter.
Far above, in a realm unseen, the other Sovereigns took notice.
And one by one... they began to listen.
Among them, one Sovereign stood apart. Cloaked in flame and forged silence, it watched Jun's memory trials through a mirror of ash. Its voice crackled across the void:
**"The fire-bearer walks toward disharmony. He will either forge the next cadence... or unravel it all."**
Another Sovereign, cloaked in vines and blooming decay, responded:
**"He carries more than a spark. He carries choice."**
A third Sovereign, seated on a throne of hollow bones, whispered through a chorus of crows:
**"The Choir stirs. The world forgets. But he remembers. And in remembering, reshapes."**
In a distant void, an unseen hand drew runes across a map of stars, tracing paths that had not yet occurred. Possibilities danced in ink and stardust, all converging on one singular flame.
And in the Cathedral, as the group walked away, unseen eyes still followed.
Be
cause this was no longer a test.
It was an audition.
And the world had begun to hum.
---
*To be continued...*