The amphitheater was built within a ring of crystal trees, glowing faintly with the light of inner suns. Students lined the tiered stone benches, eager for today's unexpected trial—so sudden, so oddly timed.
In the center of the arena stood a curved structure of darkened glass—eight feet tall and humming with dull echoes. It pulsed, not with heat, but with memory.
The Mirror Gate.
Forged generations ago by a reclusive faction of the Celestial Kingdom, it was used rarely, for one reason: it revealed that which should remain unseen.
A voice boomed from above.
"Today's trial: the Mirror Gate will assess spiritual cohesion and fear resistance. Each candidate will enter and confront what they truly are."
Ezrel Dreviir stood among the judges, his gaze venomously fixed on Nocth.
Nocth stepped forward, heart steady but unsure why.
"I didn't volunteer," he said quietly to the robed elder guiding him.
"No one does," came the dry reply. "But those chosen must step forward."
---
The glass swallowed him.
Nocth blinked. One breath—then another—and the air around him melted.
He stood not in the arena, but in a moonlit forest. Mist curled around his ankles.
There, ahead, a child knelt in the grass. Pale, frail, staring into a pool of water.
The child turned.
It was him—but younger, hollow-eyed. Cold. His mouth opened.
> "You don't belong here."
Nocth's breath caught. The child's voice was dead, yet echoing.
> "You are not them. You are not this. You are the storm that will break the sky. And they will come for you..."
Suddenly, the child's body cracked like glass, and from within it, veins of gold and void spiraled out in madness.
The vision collapsed.
Nocth screamed—but not from fear.
From recognition.
---
He fell forward out of the gate, gasping, half-conscious.
Whispers rose in the crowd.
"He lasted only thirty seconds."
"No... he broke it. Look at the Gate—it's fractured."
Indeed, the Mirror Gate now bore a dark fissure—like something had crawled out of its soul.
Ezrel stood stunned. He had expected the boy to panic, to cry, to fail. Not to shatter a relic.
Before anyone could recover, a soft clap echoed.
Shae' stepped down from the stone railings, her silk robes whispering like windblades.
She walked to Nocth's side, crouched, and tilted her head.
"Hmm," she said, smirking, "I expected tears. You disappoint me."
Nocth groaned, barely able to look up.
"And here I thought," she added, voice soft like poisoned honey, "that I might finally see the scared little animal inside the mystery boy."
She brushed a lock of hair from his face, gaze unreadable.
Then her eyes narrowed.
"But whatever you saw in there… it wasn't fear, was it?"
Nocth tried to sit up. His veins were burning. Beneath his skin, a fifteenth vein had awakened, glowing with quiet madness.
Shae' stood and turned back to the watching nobles.
"Trial's over," she said, voice sharp. "Next time, choose your tools more wisely."