The girl's blade burned with the light of the heavens, but her grip betrayed her. Lidow didn't move. He watched her with quiet intensity, as if he already understood the ending of their meeting.
"You were sent to kill me," he said, voice calm like still water.
"Yes," she replied, her voice steady now. "But I didn't come to succeed. I came to see if you are what they fear."
"And what do they fear?" he asked, stepping forward.
"That you are not your father," she said. "That you could be worse."
The silence between them cracked like ice. In Lidow's chest, the ancient duality stirred. Light surged through his veins like wildfire. Darkness pooled behind his eyes like oil.
"I don't want their war," he muttered. "I didn't start it. I was born into the ashes of someone else's throne."
"But you'll sit on it," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But not today."
She lowered her sword an inch. "I'm Elyra. They call me the Seeker. I'm not a killer. I test the soul."
Lidow tilted his head. "Then test mine."
Without warning, she lunged—not to strike, but to touch. Her hand pressed against his chest, and light exploded outward like a shockwave.
Suddenly, they weren't in the ruined hall anymore.
They stood in memory—his.
The halls of the obsidian fortress, as seen through the eyes of a child. The voice of Shadow echoing through the black-stone halls. The warmth of Valarie's hand. The weight of exile. Of loneliness. Of power inherited without choice.
Elyra staggered back.
"You were forged in fire," she whispered. "But you… you never burned."
Lidow stepped forward, his aura flaring. "Do you understand now?"
"I understand that if they send more like me, they will fail," she said, lowering her blade.
"You're not going back, are you?"
She looked at the ceiling of the ruins. "No. I think I'll stay."
He nodded. "Then follow me."
Behind them, the three doors still stood—waiting.
"I'll face them all," Lidow said, stepping toward the center. "I'll take every trial. Light. Shadow. Wrath."
"You'll die," she warned.
"Then I'll die as who I am."
The obsidian air pulsed. The gate to the first trial opened. Lidow entered the fire—and the door sealed behind him.
Flames licked at his skin, not to burn, but to break. A voice like cracking stone filled the chamber.
"Prove your will. Break, or rise."
He screamed—not in pain, but in resistance.
From above, in the heavens, the saints watched. Silent. Waiting.
In the depths of the underworld, Shadow felt it. A flare. A ripple.
"He's in the fire," he whispered.
Valarie appeared beside him. "He'll endure."
Shadow nodded once. "He must."