THE GAZE THAT RETURNED FROM HEAVEN
Dawn broke over the Kyrethron Coliseum, bathed in crimson and gold. The stands were filled with murmurs, gasps, and shouts of excitement. The energy in the air was almost palpable, like a storm yet to unleash its fury. The coliseum floor, scarred from past battles, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reflecting the history of the warriors who had fought upon it.
The shadows of the tall pillars stretched across the arena, mingling with the morning mist that drifted by like a veil. The crowd waited impatiently. In the center, the names of the new contenders were pronounced by a deep voice that boomed like thunder:
"The third round of the Tournament of Shadows begins! Taliena and Nivhira versus Cilera and Maerisse!"
An expectant silence fell over the crowd. The tension was palpable.
The stone doors slowly opened, releasing an ethereal glow. From one side, Taliena and Nivhira advanced with purposeful steps. Taliena, her gaze hidden beneath her gray hood, radiated an enigmatic, almost otherworldly aura. Her eyes, when they peeked through the strands of her dark hair, shone with a silvery hue impossible to ignore. Beside her, Nivhira maintained a more relaxed posture, but her magical energy felt like an invisible electric current coursing through the air.
On the other side, Cilera and Maerisse emerged amidst sparks of golden light. Cilera, her spear engulfed in blue fire, walked with lethal elegance. Her companion, Maerisse, wielded a longsword covered in runes that pulsed like a living heart. Both radiated synchronicity, calm and fury intertwined.
The sun rose just as the four figures faced each other in the center of the coliseum. The wind blew fiercely, raising dust and fragments of stone. The atmosphere was almost sacred.
"Ready?" Maerisse asked, twirling her sword with precision.
"I always am," Cilera replied, with a dangerous smile. "But don't underestimate that woman. Taliena... her aura is not normal."
On the other side, Nivhira exhaled slowly, looking at her companion. "What do you plan to do, Taliena? They don't seem like easy opponents."
"Observe first," Taliena said in a soft, almost hypnotic voice. "His movements will reveal more than his words. And when the moment comes... then I will attack."
The sound of the horn marked the beginning of the battle.
The ground trembled instantly. Cilera charged like a living flame, her spear spinning with a force that sliced through the air. Nivhira responded by creating a wall of blue energy, which exploded in a shockwave. The first few seconds were pure chaos: sparks, light, fire, flashes of magic illuminating the faces of the spectators.
Maerisse used the smoke to move, her body moving with the speed of the wind. She appeared behind Taliena, unleashing a downward slash. But Taliena didn't move. Her figure vanished as if swallowed by the air.
Suddenly, Taliena's voice sounded behind her, cold and measured: "You're fast. But not fast enough."
The invisible edge of her energy sliced through the air, and Maerisse barely managed to twist her sword to stop it. The impact resounded loudly. The runes on her blade glowed, repelling the shadow's force that sought to consume her.
"What kind of energy is that?" exclaimed Maerisse, stepping back.
Nivhira unleashed a blast of energy from her palms, aimed directly at the ground, causing a dust explosion that blinded everyone for a moment. Cilera emerged from the cloud, her spear blazing like a miniature sun, and shouted, "Maerisse, stand up!"
The attack came from above: a rain of blue fire fell upon the arena, as Maerisse spun her sword, creating a vortex that channeled her companion's power. Taliena and Nivhira locked eyes, and without uttering a word, both raised their hands. A dark, translucent barrier emerged from the ground, withstanding the flames.
The crowd roared. The temperature rose, the arena became incandescent. Every second was a power dance, a test of strength and strategy.
"Incredible! They're tied!" shouted a spectator from the stands.
"You think so..." Taliena murmured, barely audible, as the mist around her began to change color. The darkness turned silvery, ethereal.
Nivhira turned to her, confused. "What are you doing?"
"Showing a fragment of who I am," Taliena replied, slowly opening her hand.
The wind stopped. All the noise vanished. For a moment, the world was suspended. The flames, the sand, the dust… everything was still. Even Cilera and Maerisse seemed frozen in time.
The air shattered like glass.
A white flash crossed the arena, followed by a roar that shook the foundations of the coliseum. When the glare faded, Cilera and Maerisse were on their knees, breathing heavily. Their energy was gone, but they were still standing.
Taliena, on the other hand, remained standing amidst shadows that glided like silk around her. Nivhira, beside her, could hardly believe what she had just seen.
"Taliena…" he murmured, his voice trembling. "That… that wasn't just magic, was it?"
She slowly turned her face toward her companion, her expression calm, but her eyes shone with an ancient gleam. "No. It wasn't."
The judge raised his hand, the crowd fell silent.
"Winners: Taliena and Nivhira!"
The coliseum erupted in cheers, but amid the din, several observers exchanged uneasy glances.
Zyrion, observing from the upper stands, remained motionless. His expression was grave.
Caelithra, standing next to him, noticed. "You recognized her, didn't you?"
Zyrion nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Taliena's silent retreat. "It can't be a coincidence. Her energy... it doesn't belong to this time."
Kyrahna, further back, crossed her arms. "So the tournament isn't just revealing strength... but truths that should have remained hidden."
The wind blew again, carrying with it the scent of dust, iron, and something else… something ancient, something Zyrion knew all too well.
And at that moment, he understood that this tournament was more than just a competition: it was a piece of destiny slowly moving towards chaos.
The sun was beginning its ascent over the village mountains, its golden rays filtering through the twisted branches of the trees, tinging the faces of those present with amber. The sand of the makeshift fighting field shimmered with silvery flashes, as if tiny fragments of magic had fallen from the sky during the night. The air was heavy, a mixture of anticipation and tension, where even the whisper of the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Zyrion sat at the side of the field, still wearing fresh bandages on his abdomen. Dawn had found him awake, staring at the sky without uttering a word. Beside him, Caelithra and Kyrahna spoke in hushed tones, while the rest of the group began to gather around the fighting circle.
"You should rest a little longer," Caelithra said gently, placing a hand on Zyrion's arm. Her gaze was sweet, but a worry shone in her eyes that she couldn't quite hide.
Zyrion looked at her for a moment, with a calmness that seemed untouched by pain. "I'm fine, Caelithra. I just want to see you fight. Sometimes you learn more by watching than by fighting."
Kyrahna crossed her arms, sighing. "Yeah, right, that's what you say every time you don't want to admit it still hurts. I know you too well, Zyrion. Even your silences speak louder than your words."
Zyrion offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Perhaps you're right... but I don't want to worry them more than necessary."
Kyrahna shook her head slowly, moving a little closer. "Worrying about you is inevitable now. Since you came into our lives, we've all ended up caught up in something bigger than we understand."
The wind blew harder, whipping the cloaks and hair of those present. Cilera's voice broke the silence.
"Attention everyone! The fourth round is about to begin. I want you to be ready. This time there will be no room for doubt. Each pair must demonstrate what they have learned."
Their eyes met in silence. The air vibrated, charged with energy. The earth itself seemed to acknowledge the weight of what was to come.
Ryvak, who was fine-tuning her gloves, commented as she adjusted her stance: "After seeing what Kyrahna did in the previous round, anyone would think twice before facing her."
Kyrahna smiled at him ironically. "Then don't overthink it, Ryvak. Doubts weigh more than wounds."
Zyrion observed everything with unusual attention. In his gaze there was something no one else could notice: an inner glow, a silent spark that seemed to burn behind his pupils. Something had changed in him since that dream, since that encounter with the man in the white mask.
Caelithra noticed. She studied him closely and whispered, "Zyrion... that look of yours... what are you really seeing?"
Zyrion didn't take his eyes off the battlefield. "I don't know. But I feel that each of them is destined for something more than this fight. It's not just a tournament... it's as if fate is measuring them."
Caelithra lowered her gaze, thoughtful, and replied in a low voice: "And you, Zyrion? Who measures you?"
For a moment there was no response. Only the sound of the wind and the creaking of the wooden makeshift bleachers. Zyrion closed his eyes for an instant, as if he heard something the others couldn't.
"Time," he finally said. "It's always time that measures me."
Kyrahna looked at him with concern. "Zyrion... don't talk like that. Everything we've been through so far, everything we've lost... it can't mean you're alone in this."
He looked at her then, with an expression that was half tenderness, half resignation. "I'm not alone, Kyrahna. But there are battles one fights even surrounded by allies."
Cilera raised his voice, breaking the silence. "Let the matches begin! First pair, to the center."
The ground trembled slightly as the first two pairs approached. The tension became palpable; shouts and applause echoed from the edges of the circle.
As they watched, Caelithra leaned toward Zyrion, her eyes never leaving the battle. "Do you think we can all reach what you seek? The Ultimate Fragment?"
Zyrion took a deep breath, the air heavy in his chest. "Not all. But some will. Only those who manage to keep their soul intact when everything else shatters."
Kyrahna frowned. "And you? Do you think your soul is still intact?"
Zyrion glanced at her sideways. "I don't know yet."
The sound of clashing magical energy, the thunder of blows, bursts of power, and the fire of fragments filled the air. The wielders' auras enveloped the arena like a whirlwind of light. Each attack kicked up dust, each impact made the ground tremble.
Zyrion clenched his fists tightly. His breathing became more labored, heavier. Something inside him burned, like a pent-up force struggling to break free.
Caelithra noticed the change and took his hand, her warm fingers intertwining with his. "Don't lose yourself in that, Zyrion. Not now. Don't let that fire consume you again."
He looked at her and nodded slowly, but his eyes… his eyes were not the same.
As the fourth round continued, the sky began to fill with dark clouds. A distant rumble of thunder crashed, and the leaves of the trees shook violently. No one noticed it, except him. Zyrion looked up and saw, among the clouds, a silhouette watching him… a white-masked figure, still, impossible, suspended in the smoke of the sky.
Her lips barely trembled.
"You're feeling it, aren't you?" Caelithra said, noticing her lost gaze.
Zyrion lowered his voice, barely a whisper. "He never left... he's just waiting for me."
The thunder rumbled again, this time closer. The sand trembled, the screams ceased for a moment, and the sky split in a flash of blue. Zyrion closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, as an icy chill ran through his body.
Kyrahna approached, alarmed. "Zyrion!"
But he no longer heard. Only his mind, his soul, and that hidden whisper that had haunted him since that night:
"I am the beginning of your end..."
The wind roared fiercely, raising dust and dry leaves, as the figure of the man in the white mask disappeared amidst the thunder.
Caelithra, Kyrahna, and the rest of the group rushed toward him. Zyrion was still sitting, but his gaze... was different. Something had returned with him.
And while the fighting continued, no one noticed that in the sky, just behind the clouds, something ancient was awakening.
TO BE CONTINUED...