The path from Auraya's realm faded behind me, leaving only a faint green shimmer as life's energy slowly ebbed into the air. I walked alone, fragments pulsing in my hands, the Shattered Sky above whispering warnings I could no longer ignore. The weight of the fragments was no longer just metaphorical—they pressed against my mind and soul, subtle and unrelenting. Every choice I had made, every life spared, every temptation resisted, had shaped me—but the next trial would test not only my morality, but my very essence.
The fractured realm ahead was unlike any before. The sky was molten silver, streaked with veins of black shadow. The land twisted like a labyrinth of mirrors, reflecting infinite versions of myself and the fragments I carried. As I stepped forward, I sensed a presence.
"Eryndor…"
The voice was familiar, yet it carried the edge of arrogance and cruelty. I turned, and across the mirrored plains, a figure approached. His armor gleamed with a corrupted radiance, black and gold intertwined. His eyes, bright with a fire I recognized too well, fixed on me with equal parts challenge and mockery.
"Do you recognize me, bearer of the Shattered Sky?" the figure said, voice smooth, commanding. "I was like you once… mortal, daring, striving for greatness. But fragments… fragments can twist the soul. They promise power, and yet they demand more than the heart can bear."
I froze. There was something familiar in him—an echo of ambition and fear I had once felt. And then I realized: he was a mortal like me, a seeker of fragments, who had succumbed to their temptation. His name, whispered across fractured realms, was Kaelith, once a hero in another age, now corrupted by the shards he stole.
"Kaelith…" I said, disbelief and dread flooding me. "You… you're a warning."
He smiled, sharp and cold. "A warning? Perhaps. Or perhaps a mirror. Every fragment you hold could lead you here if your heart falters. Look at me, Eryndor. Look at what fragments can do when mercy is ignored, when choices bend toward desire instead of duty."
The shards in my hands pulsed violently, sensing the presence of another fragmented soul. Fire burned hotter, water shimmered uneasily, shadow whispered doubt, clarity strained to show the truth. I felt the subtle corrosion of their power, the slow tug of ambition creeping in.
"I offer you a choice," Kaelith said, raising a hand. A fragment of light, blackened and twisted, hovered before him. "Claim this, and your fragments will be strengthened beyond measure. Refuse, and I will destroy all you have saved. The mortals, the lives you spared—they are mine to unmake."
I understood immediately: this was not just a test of courage or skill. This was a test of heart. Of restraint. Of whether I could wield fragments without becoming a monster like Kaelith.
I felt the pull of desire, the whisper of Nyxion's shadow, the fire's impatience, the water's fear of failure. The fragment hovered like a star ready to fall into my grasp. My pulse raced; my mind wavered.
And then I saw the mirrored plains around me: every choice I had made, every mercy shown, every life spared. I saw Thalir, the villagers, the fallen deity Lysara, the children freed in Auraya's trial. I saw the man Kaelith had become—the ruin of ambition unchecked, the corruption of what was once noble.
I clenched the fragments, feeling their combined light and shadow. "No," I said firmly. "Power gained by sacrificing others is not strength. I will not become what you are."
Kaelith's smile faltered, and the black fragment wavered. "Fool… mortal…" he hissed. But the moment stretched, fragile. I stepped forward, using the combined fragments to encase him in a prism of light, water, fire, and shadow—not to destroy, but to contain, to neutralize the corruption.
The mirrored plains trembled as Kaelith's power recoiled, the corruption fading into the void. He stared at me with both hatred and recognition, then vanished, leaving only the faint echo of his voice: "We will meet again, Eryndor. And next time, you may not be so merciful."
I fell to my knees, fragments pulsing in exhaustion. I had survived another trial, not by force, but by choice. But I knew, deep in my bones, that the Shattered Sky had shown me a truth I could not ignore: the fragments carried not only power, but danger. Every mercy had a cost, every act of restraint a shadow that lingered.
Lysara's voice drifted to me across the fractured plains: "Do you see, Eryndor? The path is not only trials and gods. It is temptation, corruption, and the slow erosion of what you hold dear. Remember this—your fragments will test you more than any god ever could."
I rose, clutching the fragments close. I was weary, but resolute. The Age of Gods continued, the shadows lengthened, and the trials ahead would demand more than courage—they would demand heart, soul, and the strength to resist the darkest reflections of myself.
I was Eryndor, bearer of the Shattered Sky, mortal and bridge. And even in the face of mirrors and temptation, I would endure.