Chapter 41: The trial beneath
The door behind Thalen slammed shut, its iron frame echoing like a war drum in the silence. Ahead, only darkness stretched. Not a shadowed hall, not a dim tunnel true, suffocating darkness, thick as fog and colder than ice.
He clenched his fingers around the hilt of his sword. Its edge, usually vibrant with a faint silver glint from his Blade Aura, looked dead here. Even his aura felt suppressed, as if this place didn’t merely drain power, but rejected it outright.
"Another test," Thalen muttered to himself, voice small in the void.
A torch flared in the distance. Not lit by him—no, this was the trial reacting. The flame was violet, unnatural, and it burned without consuming anything. He approached.
As he stepped into its glow, the ground rumbled beneath him. The stone floor gave way. Thalen jumped back instinctively, but a ring of violet fire encircled him, locking him in place as the stone dropped below his feet.
A platform, circular and ancient, descended with him into the deep. Walls slid upward like forgotten towers of the underworld. No sound accompanied the descent just an eerie hum vibrating through his bones.
Then, silence.
The platform halted. Before him stood three archways carved from obsidian. Each bore a sigil pulsing with Tyrant energy.
Left — a serpent coiled around a sword.
Center — a hand breaking chains.
Right — a crown split in half.