The light from the last rune spread across the sanctum, painting the air in silver threads that shimmered like woven moonlight. Arka's body felt weightless, suspended between worlds. His heartbeat echoed steady, defiant before it began to fade into silence.
When the light dimmed, he was no longer standing on stone. He was floating in a boundless, colorless space, where fragments of memory drifted like glass shards in water. Every piece showed him something from his past pain, anger, loneliness, and the faint glimmers of joy he'd buried.
Then the voice came. Not cold like the others, but eerily familiar.
"Tell me, Arka," it said, smooth as a whisper from the dark. "If all your memories were taken, who would you be?"
Arka turned slowly. Before him stood another version of himself calm, expressionless, and surrounded by black mist. His eyes were the same, yet empty, devoid of warmth.
"Who are you?" Arka asked.
"I am what remains if your heart dies," the shadow replied. "The beast without purpose. The power without soul."
The space trembled. From the mist, chains of energy erupted, wrapping around Arka's wrists and ankles. The shadow stepped closer, each footstep echoing like thunder in the void.
"You've fought your past, your fear, and your pride," the shadow continued. "But can you fight yourself?"
Arka grit his teeth. "I won't fight myself. I'll accept who I am."
The shadow smiled faintly and lunged.
The clash shook the astral realm. Silver flame met black mist. Every strike shattered fragments of memory flashes of his childhood, of his master's teachings, of Lysander's eyes the night before the trial.
The shadow's voice growled through the chaos. "You say you've changed… but you still need someone to save you!"
Arka roared, breaking the chains. "No. I don't need saving anymore. But I'll never fight alone again."
From the void, a soft light bloomed faint at first, then bright as a star. A hand reached through it, warm and steady.
"Arka."
The voice was unmistakable. Lysander's.
Arka's chest tightened. He reached forward, gripping the light. Power surged through his veins a fusion of wolf energy and starlight, burning pure and fierce.
When their hands met, the entire space exploded with radiance. The shadow screamed, dissolving into dust.
And then silence.
Arka opened his eyes. He was back in the sanctum, kneeling on the stone floor. His body was covered in faint silver markings, glowing gently.
All twelve runes above him blazed with light, forming the symbol of the Star Wolf Sovereign. The crowd erupted in awe. Even the elders bowed their heads none had ever seen someone complete the Astral Trials with all runes ignited.
Lysander stepped forward, his expression unreadable yet filled with quiet pride. "You did it," he said softly.
Arka met his gaze. "Not alone."
The light between them flickered faint, unseen by others, but real. A bond deeper than words, forged in the soul itself.
The Astral Trials were over.
But destiny had only begun to unfold.