The light faded slowly, revealing a wide chamber of soft gray stone. No more roaring winds, no lava rivers—only stillness. The air here was cool, dense with faint mist. Thin streams of silver water trickled down the walls, their glow reflecting like moving lightning veins.
Daniel staggered first, his steps heavy. His body still sparked faintly, arcs flickering across his forearms before vanishing. The Codex at his arm dimmed from molten brightness to a quiet hum. For the first time in hours, the silence felt heavier than battle.
Mira exhaled and dropped to sit on a nearby ledge. "I think my bones forgot what calm feels like."
David chuckled weakly, wiping dust from his face. "You're lucky you still have bones. That last swing almost turned me into mist."
Daniel didn't answer. He knelt near one of the glowing streams and dipped his hands into the cool water. The moment the liquid touched his skin, the faint static along his body eased, like the realm itself recognized his exhaustion and answered it. He stayed there for a long while, watching tiny ripples fade across the surface.
Mira looked at him quietly. "You're burning yourself out again."
He glanced up. "I controlled it this time."
"That's not control," she said softly. "That's surviving."
David leaned back against a column, arms crossed. "She's right, you know. You pulled too deep from the field. You even drained half the lightning around us. If you keep doing that, the next strike might take you with it."
Daniel didn't look up this time. "You both saw what those guardians were. Holding back wasn't an option."
Silence lingered. The faint hum of runes filled the background, gentle and rhythmic—like a heartbeat.
Mira eventually stood and moved closer, crouching beside him. Her voice lowered. "You keep acting like this is only about passing trials. But these tests are changing you. The more you use that power, the less human your aura feels."
Daniel looked into the glowing water again. His reflection shimmered back at him—faint traces of silver lightning crawling through his veins, glowing beneath his skin like living circuits. "Maybe that's what Eryndor intended," he murmured. "To turn whoever reaches this far into something else."
David frowned. "You mean… into him?"
Daniel didn't answer.
For a while, none of them spoke. The chamber breathed with them—soft, slow, alive. Above, faint constellations began to appear, forming across the curved ceiling. Each light resembled a memory, flickering in sequence. One star pulsed brighter than the rest, projecting a faint image onto the ground: a younger Eryndor, standing beside three warriors whose faces were blurred by light.
Mira watched it with wide eyes. "That's—"
"The original wielders," Daniel finished, rising to his feet. The image shifted slightly, replaying moments of battle, unity, betrayal—then faded before any ending could be seen.
David sighed. "So even legends had cracks."
Daniel's eyes remained fixed on the fading light. "It means we're not the first to fail."
He started walking again, slowly, following the soft line of runes that trailed deeper into the mist. His movements were slower now, but deliberate—as if every step was a choice he had to convince himself to make.
Mira caught up. "Hey… what's really driving you?" Her tone softened. "Because every time you fight, it's not just about survival. It's like you're trying to prove something."
Daniel paused mid-step. His shoulders tightened. The air crackled faintly again before settling. "If I told you," he said finally, "it wouldn't change what has to be done."
"That's not an answer," she said, frowning.
"No," he admitted. "It's the only one I have right now."
David pushed off from the wall and joined them, his usual grin dimmed but steady. "Then whatever your reason is, just don't let it burn out before we reach the end. You're not carrying this alone, Daniel. We're still here—annoying, bleeding, arguing—but here."
Mira smiled faintly. "And I'll keep calling you out if you try to play hero again."
Daniel looked at them both. For a brief moment, his storm-like gaze softened. The exhaustion in him didn't vanish, but something steadier took its place—resolve, sharpened by the bond between them.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Then let's rest while we still can."
They settled near the glowing streams. Mira unpacked a small energy capsule and cracked it open, releasing faint warmth into the air. David used what remained of his earthen energy to raise a curved barrier of stone around them—a temporary wall against the unknown.
The three sat in a loose circle. No words passed for a while, only the low hum of ancient power. Mira's head eventually rested on her knees, half asleep. David's breathing slowed, deep and calm. Daniel sat last, watching the faint lightning still crawling through his arm, then pressing a hand over his chest as if trying to keep the storm inside from escaping.
Above them, the constellations rearranged once more, forming a faint symbol—one Daniel recognized from Eryndor's archives. The Seal of Accord. It appeared only when unity had been achieved among wielders.
The Codex reacted immediately, etching glowing words across Daniel's skin:
> [TEAM SYNCHRONIZATION — COMPLETE]
[NEXT TRIAL UNLOCKED: THE HALL OF ORIGINS]
Daniel exhaled, almost laughing. "We finally passed the test of harmony… by nearly dying together."
David, eyes half-open, muttered, "Wouldn't be the first time."
Mira smiled without lifting her head. "Then maybe next time, we try harmony without the dying part."
They all chuckled softly—the first sound of peace since entering the realm.
Beyond the mist, faint footsteps echoed. Not heavy like guardians. Not mechanical. Human.
Daniel's expression changed instantly, the easy warmth vanishing. He rose silently, eyes narrowing toward the mist. The Codex pulsed once, detecting new energy signatures.
> [UNKNOWN PRESENCE: MULTIPLE LIFEFORMS APPROACHING]
[ENERGY MATCH — 73% COMPATIBLE WITH ANCIENT LINEAGE]
Mira stirred, instantly alert. David gripped his weapon. The silence thickened again—no battle yet, but tension reborn.
Daniel whispered, "Seems our rest is over."
From the fog ahead, faint silhouettes began to appear—tall, cloaked, carrying symbols similar to Eryndor's crest, but older, rougher… alive.
The depths remembered—and they were not empty.