The chamber walls groaned as the molten cracks sealed shut. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Then the floor shifted. Stone plates rearranged with grinding force, opening a spiral stair descending into darkness.
The five of them—Kael Ardyn, Darius Veylan, Rynna Solde, Jorek Vance, and Serran Vey—glanced at one another before stepping forward.
"Second trial," Serran muttered, knuckles white around his staff. "They won't let us breathe long."
The stair wound down into a vast cavern lit by pale blue crystals. Where the first trial had been fire and fury, this place felt cold, damp, and watching. The air thrummed like a plucked string, carrying a faint whisper none of them could place.
A circle of stone pillars stood in the cavern's heart, each one carved with runes. Upon one of them rested weapons—five in total, gleaming faintly in the crystal light.
Darius's eyes lit up. "Finally. Something worthy of us."
He strode forward, snatching a curved blade from the pillar. Rynna claimed a pair of hooked knives, their edges shimmering faintly. Jorek hefted a heavy axe, and Serran's staff pulsed brighter as he grasped it, as if recognizing his touch.
Only one remained.
A jagged shard of black metal, crooked and unbalanced, its edge dull as though it had been broken off from something greater.
Kael stared at it, his chest tight. Of all the weapons, it looked least like a gift and most like a curse.
Darius smirked. "Figures. A broken blade for a broken stray."
Heat flared in Kael's chest, but he said nothing. His hand closed around the shard. It was cold—unnaturally so—but as his skin met the metal, a faint hum rippled through the cavern. The runes across the pillars flickered, as if stirred awake.
Rynna frowned. "Did you feel that?"
Before anyone could answer, the voice returned—deep, inhuman, vibrating through bone.
"Second Trial: The Labyrinth. Find the exit. Survive the hunters."
The ground split. Walls of stone erupted around them, twisting into a shifting maze. From the shadows slithered shapes—tall, insect-like creatures with scythe arms, their carapaces gleaming with crystal shards. Their clicking mandibles echoed through the corridors like laughter.
Hunters.
The group pressed forward. Rynna led with speed, Darius hacked through the first hunter with reckless strength, Jorek and Serran supported from the rear.
Kael struggled. His broken shard barely cut into the hunters' armor. Every strike jarred his arm, every block nearly snapped his wrist. He fell behind, his burns from the first trial throbbing with each movement.
"Keep up or stay behind!" Darius barked, his voice dripping contempt.
Kael gritted his teeth. He wanted to snap back—but then, something strange happened.
When a hunter lunged, its scythe arcing down, Kael raised the shard to block. The instant metal struck metal, the shard pulsed. For a heartbeat, Kael felt the rhythm of the creature's movements—its next strike, the weakness in its stance.
Instinct took over. Kael pivoted, drove the shard up under the hunter's chin, and the beast collapsed in a burst of crystal dust.
He staggered back, breath ragged. The shard in his hand was humming faintly, as though alive.
Darius stared, blade dripping ichor. "What… was that?"
Kael swallowed hard. "I don't know."
But inside, he knew one thing: this broken weapon wasn't just a blade. It was a mirror, a key—something that resonated with him in ways the others couldn't feel.
And though he still fought weaker than the rest, slower, clumsier… with each clash, the shard pulsed again, showing him flashes, fragments of openings no one else could see.
By the time they reached the heart of the labyrinth, Kael's body was screaming, his arms heavy—but he was still standing. Not because of strength, not because of skill, but because the broken shard had awakened something inside him.
The walls shifted once more, opening the path forward.
The voice boomed, merciless and final:
"One trial remains."
Kael tightened his grip on the shard. For the first time, despite his weakness, he felt something new burning inside him.
Hope.