I left the Waters of Memory behind, carrying the fragments of Thyrrion and Selmyra in my hands. The ember of fire and the droplet of water pulsed together, a rhythm like a heartbeat of divinity. The Shattered Sky whispered with urgency, tugging me toward the next fractured realm.
The path was not smooth. It did not lead across land or sea, but into a twisting labyrinth suspended in midair. Stone bridges curved impossibly, floating over nothingness. Walls of black obsidian rose on either side, etched with faint glowing runes that pulsed as if alive. Every step echoed—though sometimes the echoes whispered back words I had not spoken.
"Eryndor..."
I stopped. The shadows shifted. The whispers grew louder, and then I realized—they were not mine alone. The labyrinth was alive with fragments of others: echoes of mortals, mortals who had entered realms like mine and failed. Their voices carried fear, regret, anger, and pleading.
"Do you belong here?" one voice hissed, cold and accusing. "You are not worthy."
"You will fail," another whispered. "The gods do not forgive."
I tightened my grip on the fragments. The Shattered Sky pulsed, urging me onward. But the labyrinth had its own will. The bridges twisted, forcing me to jump over chasms that stretched into infinity. Shadows rose along the walls, coalescing into forms—specters of past failures and regrets. They lunged, whispering secrets about me, some true, some lies, some half-truths designed to break my mind.
I realized the first test of the labyrinth was not physical—it was mental. To survive, I had to distinguish truth from deception. My pulse quickened. The fire shard flared with warmth; the water fragment shimmered, reflecting visions of the labyrinth as it truly was beneath the illusions.
I moved carefully, stepping lightly, trusting my instincts. A specter lunged at me—my own reflection, older, crueler, and smiling at my hesitation. The reflection whispered, "Give up. You cannot carry the fragments. You are unworthy. You will fail."
I struck with the shard of fire. The reflection dissolved, but another immediately took its place—a memory of my sister crying as I left Thalir. Pain and guilt struck me like a hammer. I felt my strength falter. But the water fragment pulsed with calm. It showed me not just the memory, but the choice I had yet to make: protection, courage, and hope.
I pressed forward. The labyrinth tried to trick me with false paths. I stepped onto a bridge that bent backward on itself, seeming to drop into nothingness. I held both fragments before me, and the Shattered Sky responded: the bridge stabilized, light flowing along its surface like molten silver. I realized then: the fragments did more than grant power—they revealed truth in chaos.
Hours passed—or was it minutes? Time was meaningless here. Shadows of other mortals began to converge, whispering temptations: power, revenge, escape. "Abandon the path," they hissed. "The gods do not care for you. Take what you can and flee."
A wave of doubt threatened to overtake me, but I remembered Selmyra's words: "Power without wisdom is destruction." I could not allow the labyrinth to manipulate me, to turn me into a coward or tyrant. I pressed forward, and slowly, the shadows began to waver, dissipating into smoke as I advanced.
Finally, I reached the center—a chamber floating above the void. A single pedestal rose from the floor, covered in glowing runes. On it rested a small crystal, black as midnight, pulsating like a heartbeat. The labyrinth whispered around me, "Take it… or perish."
I hesitated. The crystal was not a gift—it was a test. The Shattered Sky pulsed violently, warning me that greed or haste would consume me. I remembered the trials of Thyrrion and Selmyra: courage tempered with wisdom, power tempered with understanding.
I reached out, not with desire, but with resolve. As my fingers touched the crystal, the shadows surged, forming a massive figure—a guardian born of the labyrinth itself. It had no face, only darkness and countless writhing eyes. Its voice echoed in a thousand tones:
"Only the worthy may pass. Show me your heart, mortal."
The trial was clear: this guardian would strike at my soul, not my body. I closed my eyes, centering myself, letting the fragments' light flow through me. I faced my fears, my regrets, my doubts—and accepted them without surrender. The fire burned my courage, the water reflected my understanding, and the Shattered Sky embraced my resolve.
A final surge of light erupted from me, striking the guardian. It screamed, a sound like breaking worlds, and then dissolved into nothing. The labyrinth trembled, and the floating bridges shifted, forming a straight path forward. The black crystal rested now in my hands, neutral but alive with potential.
I understood what the labyrinth had given me: a fragment of clarity, a key to seeing through lies and illusions. It was not power in the traditional sense—it was a test of will and judgment, a reminder that the path between gods was as dangerous as any battle.
Ahead, the next fractured realm shimmered: darker, colder, filled with shadows and secrets. Nyxion, the god of shadow, awaited. And now, armed with the flame, the water, and the clarity of the labyrinth, I felt the first true weight of being the Bridge of the Shattered Sky.
The challenge had not broken me. It had changed me.
I stepped forward, ready to face the darkness.