The echo of their footsteps faded into the silence of eternity.
The Hall of Relics stretched before them like the skeleton of a god—its walls glimmering with liquid light, the air dense with the scent of ozone and something older… something divine.
The Kynari guides, cloaked in silver fabrics that shimmered faintly under the glow, moved ahead with reverent silence. They carried crystal lanterns that floated behind them like miniature stars, leaving trails of glowing dust in their wake. Every motion seemed like a ritual—every breath, a prayer.
"This place…" Mira whispered, her voice nearly trembling. "It feels like the air itself remembers Eryndor."
"It does," said Elder Kael, the eldest of the Kynari escorting them. His voice carried both weight and sorrow. "These walls were carved not by mortal hands but by Eryndor's will. Each pillar is an anchor, each rune a memory. He left them to hold the world together when he fell."
Daniel's gaze lingered on the enormous sphere of lightning energy that hovered in the distance, like a sun trapped in crystal. It pulsed faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat—thrum, thrum, thrum—until the sound became all he could hear.
"Why do you guard this place?" he finally asked.
Kael's expression tightened. "Because Eryndor's final command was not to protect the relics, but the truth they hide. He foresaw that one day the heavens would tremble again—and that a soul carrying lightning's mark would come to decide whether this world burns or endures."
David let out a low whistle. "Sounds like he knew what was coming."
"No one can know what lightning will strike," Kael murmured. "But we prepare all the same."
They reached the center of the hall, where the sphere hovered. As they drew near, the energy around it stirred—ribbons of light unfurling, forming intricate constellations across the air. The runes on the floor lit up, reacting to Daniel's presence.
Suddenly the ground trembled. The sphere flared, releasing a shockwave that rippled across the chamber. Lightning crackled wildly across the pillars, racing toward the ceiling.
Kael's eyes widened. "He's reacting to it—! Everyone, stand back!"
But it was too late.
A surge of lightning exploded outward, enveloping Daniel completely. Mira and David staggered back, shielding their faces as the air distorted from sheer power. The Kynari fell to one knee, chanting in their native tongue, ancient and melodic.
The light was blinding, yet Daniel didn't move. He stood at the center, suspended in the storm. For an instant, his mind wasn't in the hall—it was somewhere far older. He saw glimpses of a storm that split the stars, a man cloaked in silver fire, his blade cleaving through time itself.
A voice whispered—not loud, not gentle, but eternal.
> "You carry my echo… but can you bear my truth?"
Daniel's eyes snapped open, glowing with arcs of pure lightning. The energy coursed through him violently, forcing him to his knees as the floor beneath him cracked.
"Daniel!" Mira rushed forward, only for Kael to hold her back.
"Do not interfere!" the elder shouted. "He is being tested by the Hall itself!"
The light around Daniel pulsed harder—until finally, it imploded.
When the brilliance faded, he was kneeling on the stone, panting. His skin faintly glowed with lightning marks that faded slowly like embers. In his hand rested a fragment of something metallic—a broken half of a blade, humming faintly with divine resonance.
David stepped closer. "That… wasn't there before."
Kael's eyes went wide with disbelief. "That fragment… It belonged to Eryndor's Divine Armament—the Stormbane."
Mira crouched beside Daniel. "You okay?"
Daniel stared at the fragment, his breathing slowing. "Yeah… but that voice…"
"What did it say?" David asked.
Daniel looked up toward the hovering sphere, his eyes distant and unreadable.
> "It said… I carry his echo."
The hall fell into silence once more, the sphere's light dimming as though it had gone back to sleep—waiting for the next spark