The chamber was alive. Breathing.
Lidow stepped inside—and the door slammed shut behind him.
The walls were red flesh, pulsing slowly like the inside of a great beast. Every heartbeat shook the air. Every breath reeked of iron and ash.
This was no illusion.
The Trial of Flesh was real.
Chains slithered from the ceiling. Hooks gleamed in the half-dark. And from the center rose an altar of broken swords, scorched wood, and torn skin.
A voice spoke—not human.
"Pain reveals the truth of power. Show us yours."
Lidow closed his eyes. He could feel the fear. The instinct to run. But instead, he took off his cloak. Then his gloves. Then his shirt.
Scars lined his back already—from training, from war, from Shadow.
But this was different.
This was choice.
The altar shifted. Blades folded inward to form a throne.
Lidow sat.
Hooks pierced his shoulders.
Chains wrapped around his ribs.
The pain was not sharp—it was deep. It reached his memory.
He saw the moment he was born—light and shadow clashing.
He saw Valarie scream as she shielded him from assassins.
He saw Shadow—his father—breaking the neck of a demon prince to protect him at age six.
He saw Elyra, crying after killing a child who'd turned feral with magic.
He saw all of it. Felt all of it.
The chains tightened.
A thousand whispers flooded his mind.
"You are not enough."
"You are not him."
"You will break."
His skin tore.
His voice cracked.
But still, he sat.
Lidow screamed once—just once.
Then he smiled through blood.
"I'm not my father," he whispered. "But I'm still his son."
The chamber went silent.
The chains dropped.
The hooks melted.
The flesh walls turned to stone.
And Lidow stood—shirtless, bleeding, burning with power.
On his chest, the second mark glowed.
Black and white. Flesh and flame.
The Trial was complete.
Outside the chamber, Shadow felt it.
His hand trembled for the first time in years.
Valarie noticed. "He made it?"
Shadow nodded. "Not just made it. He… endured it."
"Is that enough?" she asked.
"No," he said. "There's one more."
"The Trial of Soul."
She turned. "That one broke you."
Shadow looked away. "That's why he must face it alone."
The path to the Trial of Soul was not carved in stone or flesh—it was carved in silence.
Lidow walked alone now.
No guards.
No demons.
No parents.
Just the whisper of ancient winds and the endless corridor beneath the obsidian throne. Each step echoed like a judgment.
Behind him, the Trial of Flesh had left scars—visible and not. But this… this would leave something deeper.
He reached a mirror.
Not glass.
Not magic.
Memory.
It stood tall and formless, swirling with fragments of who he had been, and who he could have become.
Lidow stepped forward—and the mirror rippled.
And then, it pulled.
—
He stood in a field of white.
Snow?
Ash?
He didn't know.
Before him stood a boy.
His own age.
Same eyes. Same face.
But glowing with light—pure, clean, unburdened.
"You could have been me," the boy said softly.
"I know."
"You chose rage."
"I was born in war."
"You loved killing."
"No. I loved surviving."
They circled each other. The white world pulsed with every word.
"You are your father's shadow," the boy said, voice sharpening.
Lidow's fists clenched. "I am also my mother's light."
"You are not whole."
"No," he whispered. "But I'm real."
The boy smiled, then pulled out a blade of golden flame. "Prove it."
And then, the soul fought itself.
Every strike felt like guilt.
Every parry like regret.
Lidow bled—not from wounds, but from truths.
He had doubted himself.
He had feared becoming like Shadow.
He had hated the legacy carved into his name.
And still—he fought.
Minutes passed. Hours. Or maybe days.
Until he stood over his mirrored self, chest heaving.
The boy didn't speak.
He faded—turning into light.
And Lidow—stood alone again.
Then, the white faded.
And he awoke.
In the chamber of soul.
Tears streaked his face.
But his eyes glowed with both fire and dawn.
He had passed.
—
Shadow and Valarie were waiting at the gate.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
Lidow collapsed into their arms.
"I saw myself," he whispered.
"And?" Shadow asked.
"I don't want to be better than you. I want to be… me."
Shadow closed his eyes.
Valarie held her son tighter.
And the throne of the Underworld trembled in silent respect.
The next morning, the dark sky broke.
And for the first time in years, light and shadow shared the same sunrise.