.
Dawn broke not in sunlight but in resonance.
A deep hum rippled through the valley, stirring the mist and shaking dew from leaves. The Gate had awakened.
It stood at the far end of a narrow ravine, carved directly into the black stone of a cliff. The colossal door shimmered with countless sigils—some glowing faint blue, others dim as if remembering their purpose from another age.
Each rune pulsed like a heartbeat, slow but steady, and as they approached, the hum grew louder—until Daniel could feel it beneath his skin, vibrating through the marrow of his bones.
Lyra and a few Kynari elders waited by the edge of the ravine. The old man who had guided them before stepped forward, leaning on his staff carved from luminous bone.
"This is the Gate of Truth," he said, his voice echoing faintly against the cliff walls. "To pass through it is to face yourself. Not your enemies, not the world—but what lies hidden within."
David crossed his arms. "Sounds philosophical. What happens if someone fails?"
The elder's eyes glowed faintly. "Their spirit shatters… and the Gate remembers their fear."
"Great," David muttered. "So, no pressure."
The elder ignored him and looked at Daniel. "Only one can enter at a time. The Codex must guide you, not shield you. The Gate does not tolerate deceit—not even from itself."
Daniel nodded, his expression calm though his heartbeat wasn't. "I understand."
Lyra stepped closer, her gaze firm. "Remember what I told you… look not at what it shows you, but what it hides."
Daniel gave her a slight smile. "I'll try to remember that."
He placed his hand against the glowing surface. The sigils flared, then pulled him forward like water swallowing light.
---
Daniel's Trial
He was standing in a vast storm.
Lightning forked across endless skies, and beneath his feet—shattered worlds floated in the void. His own reflection stared back from the swirling thunderclouds, eyes dark and cold.
The reflection spoke first.
"You think you're chosen," it said, voice layered with echoes. "You think the lightning obeys you."
Daniel clenched his fists. "I don't think. I fight to survive."
The reflection smiled bitterly. "Liar. You enjoy it. Every strike, every surge of power—part of you hungers for it. The same hunger that consumed the Ancient Wielder."
The storm intensified, lightning twisting into chains that wrapped around him.
"I'm nothing like him!" Daniel roared, his voice echoing across the chaos.
But his reflection stepped forward—becoming him, cloaked in silver lightning, wielding the Primordial Blade that once split worlds.
"Then why," it said softly, "does the storm call you heir?"
Thunder answered, tearing apart the horizon.
Daniel fell to his knees, eyes wide as visions surged—cities burning, people cowering beneath lightning, and himself standing above them all—unchained, unstoppable, and monstrous.
The Codex on his arm pulsed violently, flooding him with light. Not yet, it whispered in an ancient tongue only his soul could hear. You are not him… yet.
Daniel gritted his teeth. "I'll never become that."
He raised his hand—lightning and will merging—and shattered the storm with a single word that wasn't his own:
"Return."
The reflection broke apart like glass, the thunder faded, and Daniel stood again before the Gate, chest heaving.
He had faced the storm. But a part of it now lived in him.
---
Mira's Trial
Mira's turn came next.
She stepped through the Gate without hesitation, but the world inside was… dark.
Not evil—just empty.
She stood in a vast plain of ash where the stars had died.
And in the distance, she saw herself kneeling beside a broken body—Daniel's.
"No," she whispered, running forward. "That's not real!"
Her other self looked up, eyes hollow. "It will be. Light always fades when it burns too bright."
The Codex's faint glow echoed in the void around her. Mira clenched her daggers—her anchors, her proof of reality.
"I don't believe that. Light isn't meant to fade—it's meant to guide."
The shadow version of herself tilted her head. "Guide who? Him? Or yourself?"
Mira's breath hitched. The truth struck sharper than any blade.
Her need to protect Daniel wasn't just loyalty—it was fear. Fear of being left behind.
Tears burned her eyes, but she didn't look away. "Even if I'm afraid, I'll still stand by him. That's my light."
Her reflection smiled sadly—and dissolved into dust.
The darkness lifted. The Gate released her.
---
David's Trial
David entered last.
He appeared in an endless sea of broken glyphs and shattered metal—his creations, his failures.
In the center stood a younger version of himself, kneeling beside the ruin of a mechanical golem.
"You think power makes you worthy," the younger David said. "But deep down, you're scared they don't need you."
David scowled. "I'm not scared."
"Yes, you are. You hide behind jokes because you're terrified of being the weak one again."
The glyphs around him pulsed weakly—like dying stars.
David looked around at them all… at the countless failed constructs that symbolized every time he'd doubted himself.
Then he laughed quietly. "Maybe I am scared. But I'm still here. And I'm not alone anymore."
The glyphs flickered—then reignited in gold. The sea of ruin turned into a sea of light, rising around him like wings.
---
Outside the Gate
The valley trembled as the Gate flared open, releasing three blinding beams of energy. Daniel, Mira, and David stepped out one after another, their eyes shining faintly with renewed power.
The elders bowed their heads. "You have passed the Gate of Truth."
Lyra smiled faintly from the edge of the crowd. "And what did you see?"
Daniel looked at his hands, faint sparks of lightning dancing across his skin. "What I could become… if I lose myself."
Mira said softly, "What I could lose if I stop believing."
David grinned. "And what an idiot I used to be."
The elders began to chant, and the ground beneath the Gate shifted—revealing a hidden staircase descending into the mountain.
"The Gate has judged you worthy," said the elder. "The true heart of Eryndor's legacy lies below."
Daniel stared at the steps glowing faintly with lightning.
He could still feel the echo of the storm in his chest.
Return, the Codex whispered again.
He nodded once, silently.
Then, together, they descended into the unknown.