The way grew narrower as Arthur and Nyra climbed the broken ridges up to the Fracture's rim—an ancient wound cut into the world's backbone by forces so primeval they refused naming. Scorched black rock, fractured by some battle forgotten eons ago, rimmed the path. Magic hung in the air here—wild, unpracticed, unfettered. Arthur breathed acrid-scented air, full of metal and ozone, as if the very air retained lightning.
"We're being watched," Nyra muttered, tightening her crimson scarf. Her fire aura burned low and contained, like a blade sheathed but ready.
Arthur didn't need the parasite's whisper to agree. His senses stretched wider now—beyond sight, sound, or smell. Through the parasite, he felt the terrain, registering shifts in heat, pressure, and mana flow. Creatures skulked behind the cliffs—too quiet, too clever. But they didn't attack. Not yet.
"This site shuns control," the parasite whispered. "Here, the ancient truths seep through… even to you."
Arthur stopped to lay his hand on a weathered obelisk half-buried in scree. Symbols swirled across its face—not in ink or stone, but in shifting energy. One mark, triangular and broken through the middle, throbbed under his touch.
Agony shot up his arm.
Visions burst apart—cities suspended in the air, fire consuming thunder, mages tearing apart into light and darkness. And at the heart of it all: an obsidian-tooth gate, behind which some thing writhed, screaming silently.
Arthur took a step back. "What was that?" he panted.
"The boundary," Nyra whispered, gaping. "That's what they call here. The Fracture. They say that this is where the world's magic shifted. Where symbiosis started.
He stared at her, aghast. "You knew?"
She nodded. "Not all. But fragments. The Ignis Guild silenced all lore associated with this site. Said it was cursed. Forbidden to mention." She looked at the symbol. "That… was on my father's ring."
Arthur hadn't had a chance to say anything when the earth shook. From the fog-shrouded ridge before them came a boom like thunder shattering ice.
They weren't alone.
The figure that appeared out of the fog moved like a man, but his body glowed with molten glass-like appearance—translucent flesh drawn tight over throbbing veins of golden light. His eyes were abysses of shining void.
He was silent.
The parasite spoke. "Host. This is a Warden. A fragment of the primal pact. One who defends lost power."
Nyra reflexively called fire to her hand. It sprang there, protesting—flickering, uncertain. Even her fire was intimidated by the Warden's presence.
Arthur advanced. "We look for knowledge. Truth. We do not wish to desecrate this site."
The Warden cocked its head. When it broke silence, its voice rang out with many different notes—child, elder, beast, and storm.
"You carry the resonance of birth. The parasite has made its choice. But choice begets consequence. You will demonstrate alignment—or be cut off."
"Alignment with what?" Arthur growled, his jaw set.
"With chaos. With creation. With collapse."
The Warden lifted a hand. Lightning lanced from the sky, striking the earth in a flawless circle around them. The air burned, shimmering with raw power.
Trial.
The trial was initiated without warning.
Arthur was thrown into a dreamscape—not a memory, not the vision of the parasite—but a test of the soul. He found himself on a molten plain, with elementals crafted from raw mana all around him. Fire beasts, wind spirits, golems of stone—all glaring, judging.
Then a mirror materialized in front of him.
And Arthur saw himself—eyes glowing cyan, arms webbed in corruption, and behind him a second reflection: the parasite, formless and hungry.
"Who are you?" the mirror replied in a dozen voices.
"I'm Arthur Zenith," he replied.
"Lie," said the mirror. "You are host. You are thief. You are aberration."
Arthur took a step closer. "I didn't choose this."
"But you chose it."
He paused. "Yes. Because the world turned against me. Because I had to."
"Power without balance corrodes. Will you consume, or be consumed?"
The parasite voiced within him, unwanted. "Show them. Let truth burn.
Arthur lifted his hand—and fire, wind, and water roared around him. Rather than select one, he merged them into a swirling helix of seething power. The mirror shattered.
The image in the mirror—the parasite-formed Arthur—turned on the Warden.
In the real world, Nyra stood in horror as Arthur fell at the Warden's feet, spasming.
"He's struggling with himself," the Warden explained. "Let him drop, or stand."
Nyra shook her head. "He's something more than that. He's not your lab rat."
The Warden addressed her. "You are connected. Flame-touched. You, too, resonate." It extended toward her. "Will you confront your beginning?"
"No," Nyra snarled. "I exist forward, not in reverse."
She summoned her fire and charged the Warden. Her flames this time did not gutter—they blazed.
But the Warden grasped her wrist in mid-blow. "Then burn, future-child. Burn truth on the earth."
The mountain trembled.
Within the trial, Arthur was failing.
Every time he hit his parasite self, it evolved—employing fire constructs, ice blades, shadow-shrouded movement. He knew this was not just an adversary. This was him—his fury, his terror, his ambition without constraint.
"You can't beat what you won't embrace," the parasite-version sneered. "We are one."
Arthur's breath panted. He dropped to his knees, steam misting from his body.
Then he breathed, "Then let's be one."
He thrust his hand into his own chest—not in self-harm, but in union. His body glowed. The corrupted lines flared.
And the parasite-self smiled.
They fused.
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
The Warden reeled. "Impossible. The host… integrated?"
Nyra pulled him to his feet. "What happened?"
Arthur stood, calm, steady. His aura no longer flickered—it thrummed. Where once there were random bursts of uncontrolled fusion, now a steady halo of shifting elemental patterns drifted around him.
"I passed," he said. "Because I ceased fighting it. I accepted the voice." He gazed at his palm, and a new power ignited—plasma—a mix of lightning and flame, violet and white dancing. Pure, glorious, and awful.
The Warden nodded its head. "Then proceed ahead, Zenith of the Edge. The next gate will not be so forgiving."
With that, it dissolved into mist.
They camped close to a cliff pool that night, quiet hanging between them. Nyra only spoke finally, "You've changed."
"I had to," Arthur said. "I looked at what I could be. I looked at what I was. And now I know how to lead it."
She nodded slowly. "You're not the same boy who hid in darkness."
"I can't be." He moved to turn toward her. "Nyra… are you with me?"
She looked into his eyes. "I don't understand. I decide. And I decide to battle the deceivers who created this world."
The parasite throbbed with approval. "She is fire. You are change. Together, you might survive."
Arthur looked up at the stars above, now warped slightly by the edge of the Fracture, as if even the sky was no longer certain of its form.
He smiled.
Because neither was he.