The next morning, the world felt sharper.
Birdsong was gone. The trees no longer whispered—they listened. And as they set off again, Ivyra didn't walk ahead.
She walked with them.
Serren noticed first and said nothing. But Naia smiled, and Lyxra gave Ivyra a subtle nudge with his nose.
And so the God Slayer moved forward—not alone, not yet whole—but with fire kindling slowly beneath her skin.
That fire burned hotter with every step.
Not pain… not yet. But memory. The kind that wasn't hers—ancient, jagged, and screaming. Ever since Ivyra had touched the gem hidden beneath the shrine's roots, she had felt them crawling in the back of her mind. The voices. The visions. The... despair. She hadn't told the others—not even Lyxra—but something in that crystal had split her open.
It showed her death. Worlds devoured by gods in gold. Mortals twisted into war machines. A lone, bleeding figure… pierced by divine blades… who smiled even as the heavens collapsed.
She had seen it all. And somehow, she knew:
"You carry his will now."
The being in the gem had not said that aloud, yet she heard it. Over and over.
They walked in silence until midday. The mist had returned, curling low against the ground like waiting fingers. Ivyra's feet crunched over frost-coated leaves. Then she felt it—a tug in her ribs, like something inside her was bracing against pressure.
Naia gasped beside her and grabbed her arm.
"Ivyra," she said, voice trembling, "did you feel that?"
Lyxra's fur bristled. He had stopped moving entirely, his eyes scanning the forest canopy. "The air shifted," he murmured. "Something broke. Far beneath."
Serren looked up. "Should we run?"
"No," Ivyra said. "Running doesn't help when the sky itself falls."
It started slowly.
A soft humming beneath the earth. Birds scattered. Trees groaned as though something massive was waking beneath their roots.
Then Naia's body jerked.
Light—pure, holy, and searing—burst from her hands in a jagged pulse.
"I—I don't know what's happening—!" she cried, as tendrils of radiant energy flickered around her fingers.
Serren stepped back, eyes wide. "Naia—"
"Ivyra," Lyxra barked, voice sharp. "Now!"
The ground exploded.
Chunks of earth hurled upward as a crater opened beneath them. Ivyra grabbed Naia by the waist, rolled, and Lyxra snatched Serren just as a blast of corrupted roots surged from the soil.
From the pit, a roar bellowed—not of a beast, but of something long-dead and dragged back into breath.
It rose—twisting, skeletal, coated in black moss and molten gold veins. A grotesque statue of what once might've been a guardian spirit… now tainted beyond recognition.
Naia trembled in Ivyra's arms. "It's looking at me—"
The creature's empty sockets glowed. Holy power crackled along Naia's skin again, but this time, she didn't scream.
She stood.
"I don't know why," she whispered, "but I think… I can stop it."
"No," Ivyra said, stepping in front of her. "You're not ready."
"But it's calling me."
"I said no!"
Ivyra's mark blazed.
The God Slayer stepped forward, blade drawn from thin air—willed into form through raw wrath. Her fingers clenched around the hilt as the corrupted beast lunged.
Steel met shadow.
It struck harder than any foe she'd faced—its limbs ancient, enchanted with divine remnants. Ivyra was flung backward, crashing into a tree that splintered on impact. Blood trailed from her mouth.
Lyxra pounced, growing mid-leap into his celestial form—wings spread, fur alight with star-fire. His roar ripped through the forest, and he clamped down on the beast's neck.
Naia fell to her knees, light coiling around her. She prayed—not in words, but in instinct. The energy answered.
From her chest, a circle of light spun into the air, forming sigils that glowed like small suns.
A priestess's mark.
Serren ran to Ivyra, helping her stand. "You okay?!"
"No," Ivyra grunted, wiping blood from her lip. "But I'm not done."
With Naia chanting behind them, Ivyra and Lyxra struck again. They moved as one—woman and beast, fury and flame. Ivyra's blade sliced through shadowy limbs, Lyxra's claws shattered corrupted bone.
The creature shrieked, writhing as holy light burned through its core.
Naia stood tall now, her hair lifting in the wind, eyes glowing white. She raised her hands—
"Return to the earth you defiled."
With a final cry, light and shadow collided in a deafening burst. The corrupted guardian dissolved, golden mist scattering into the trees.
Silence returned.
Naia collapsed. Serren caught her.
Ivyra stood panting, watching the dust drift.
Something had awakened. And not just in the earth.
That night, they sat by a fire they didn't build—Naia's magic had done it. No one said much.
Serren finally spoke.
"What was that?"
Lyxra's voice rumbled low. "A trial. The gods leave traces—guardians, echoes, prisons. That… was one broken loose."
"Then why did it come for Naia?"
Ivyra stared into the flames. "Because she's not who she thinks she is."
The silence that followed wasn't just exhaustion.
It was fear.
Because somewhere, buried deep in Ivyra's bones, she knew this was only the beginning.