The stone floor of the Upper Chamber echoed under Aaren's footsteps, the quiet thump of each stride swallowed by the massive hall's endless stretch. Towering spires of pale obsidian ringed the chamber like watchful sentinels. This was no longer the cracked earth of the Downer realm — this was where legends had bled and risen again.
Aaren's body ached from the earlier trials, but his spirit had only grown sharper.
"Keep your core centered. Magic without a soul is just noise," Withered Flame instructed, his voice like a match being struck in a dark room.
Aaren exhaled and lifted the blade — not Levitine, but a lesser sword built for practice. The air shimmered slightly around its edge.
"Better," Levitine noted, arms crossed, golden eyes faintly glowing. "Still lacking refinement, but your spine's no longer that of a frightened deer."
"Complimenting me?" Aaren smirked.
"No. That was a threat in disguise," Levitine replied flatly.
"Harsh crowd," Lenara yawned, stretched like a cat, and flopped dramatically onto a nearby rock. She wore a half-smile that never quite faded, and her usual braid was undone today — messy, free. "Do I even need to be here for this macho parade?"
"You're here because you asked to be," Levitine reminded her.
"Well, yeah, but I thought you'd be more dramatic. Something like — train or die!" she said with mock intensity, then chuckled. "But this is just sword swings and posture talk."
Withered Flame allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Discipline is dull until it's deadly."
Aaren took another swing — this time the blade whispered through the air. A pulse of heat flared from the floor beneath him, reacting to the motion. Withered Flame nodded. "The chamber is listening now. That's progress."
Lenara hopped up and skipped over to Aaren, poking his arm. "Well done, warrior boy. Look at you, waking up the rocks."
He chuckled, and then, as if the moment allowed for it, asked softly, "So… you've been here a while, huh? What was your life like before all this?"
There was a pause. A flicker in Lenara's gaze.
"My past?" she echoed. "Nope. That's not part of the lesson plan today." She turned with a grin, "You, however, just volunteered. Spill it."
"Alright," Aaren said, surprised at how easily the words came out. "I was sick as a kid. My whole life, actually. Could barely walk without coughing blood. I was... just surviving. And when I started getting better, I thought I had a chance to live — maybe even love." His voice softened. "Then the world burned. Literally."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — it was quiet with respect.
Lenara tilted her head. "Well. That's enough past for both of us. Yours sounds like a ten-ton tearjerker. Let's just say I prefer today over yesterday, and keep it moving."
Training resumed.
They practiced in sequences — Levitine teaching Aaren the difference between brute strength and sacred force, Withered Flame guiding him on how to manipulate the chamber's elemental flow. Hours passed like minutes.
At one point, Lenara picked up a dagger and spun it in a playful dance. "While you two punch the air, I'll just keep being pretty and dangerous."
"You forgot the humble part," Withered Flame quipped without looking up.
She threw a rock at him.
Later that night, a strange vibration swept the Upper Chamber. A faint hum under the stone. Aaren looked up. Not the sky — but the ceiling, carved in layered glyphs and flickering sigils.
Something stirred in the deep.
"There's something hidden up there," Aaren said. "I can feel it."
"Of course there is," Levitine said, voice low. "This realm is built on secrets. And you've only seen the first lock."
Withered Flame added, "The Upper Chamber doesn't just test strength. It... judges. And it waits."
"What for?" Aaren asked.
"For those bold enough to break the cycle," Levitine answered, cryptic as ever.
A silence followed again — but this time, it was filled with unspoken understanding. The chamber had accepted Aaren. The journey had truly begun.
And somewhere deeper in its spine, the chamber began to shift.