Chapter 11: The Path Forward.

The canyon seemed quieter as they left the altar chamber behind, the air no longer vibrating with whispers. But the silence wasn't peaceful. It was heavy, like the calm after a storm that promised another to come.

Trevor walked ahead, his expression hard and unreadable. Beatrice trailed beside him, glancing at him now and then with barely concealed concern. Ardyn brought up the rear, whistling softly to himself, as though they hadn't just faced a monstrous shadow or witnessed Trevor erupt in a storm of divine light.

The fissure finally opened into the wider canyon, sunlight filtering down through the cliffs. Trevor squinted against it, exhaustion weighing on his limbs.

"We're clear," Beatrice said softly, glancing back at Ardyn.

Ardyn slung his greatsword over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes studying Trevor's back. "Clear for now," he corrected. "But that thing—whatever it was—was just a taste. There's worse coming."

Trevor didn't stop walking. "You talk too much."

Ardyn smirked faintly. "And you're still in denial."

Trevor froze, turning sharply to face him. His gray eyes narrowed, the tension between them crackling like dry tinder. "What do you want from me?"

Ardyn's expression didn't change, but something colder lurked beneath his casual facade. "I want you to stop pretending you're ordinary. That power you used back there wasn't an accident, and it wasn't a mistake. You're tied to this place—and to what's coming—whether you like it or not."

Trevor's fists clenched at his sides. "I didn't ask for it."

"Neither did anyone else who's ever mattered," Ardyn shot back, his tone cutting.

Before Trevor could respond, Beatrice stepped between them, her voice firm. "Enough. This isn't helping." She turned to Ardyn, her brow furrowed. "We're leaving this place. If you're not coming with us, then this is where we part ways."

Ardyn tilted his head, his smirk returning. "And here I thought we were just getting along."

Trevor scowled. "We're done here."

Ardyn studied them for a moment, his gaze lingering on Trevor as though weighing a final thought. Then, with a small shrug, he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. "Suit yourselves. You'll see me again, though. Soon."

Neither Trevor nor Beatrice replied as his silhouette faded into the shadows of the canyon, leaving them alone once more.

The two of them traveled in silence for hours, the harsh cliffs of Helmond Canyon eventually giving way to rolling hills and fields of dry grass. With every step, the corruption seemed to fade, the oppressive weight of the canyon lifting as sunlight warmed their skin.

Trevor welcomed the quiet, but he could feel Beatrice watching him. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the canyon, but the unasked questions hung in the air between them like smoke.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Trevor."

He didn't look at her. "What?"

"You've barely said a word since we left."

"Neither have you."

She ignored the jab, stepping closer to match his stride. "That light you used back there—the divine energy. How did you do it?"

Trevor's jaw tightened. "I don't know."

Beatrice frowned. "That's not good enough. Divine energy doesn't just appear in someone who doesn't train for it. It's a gift, Trevor—one only given to those chosen by the gods."

"Then the gods made a mistake," Trevor said bitterly.

Beatrice stopped walking, grabbing his arm to turn him toward her. "Trevor, this isn't something you can ignore. If you're connected to both the corruption and divine energy, you need to understand why."

Trevor wrenched his arm free, his expression cold. "Why? So your kingdom can decide whether I'm a weapon or a threat?"

Beatrice recoiled, her face tightening. "That's not what I meant."

Trevor exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, the mask he wore cracked, and the exhaustion—physical and emotional—showed through. "I don't know what I am, Beatrice. I don't want this power. I didn't ask for any of it."

Beatrice studied him, her expression softening. "Maybe you didn't ask for it… but it's yours now. You can't run from it forever."

Trevor turned away, resuming his pace. "Watch me."

By the time they reached the borders of Priestilia, the sun hung low on the horizon, staining the sky in streaks of orange and crimson. The land was lush and green, in stark contrast to the desolation of Helmond Canyon. Fields of golden wheat stretched out in every direction, and the faint spires of distant cities glimmered in the evening light.

Trevor pulled his hood up, instinctively wary of the approaching civilization. "How much farther?"

"Another day's ride," Beatrice replied, nodding toward the horizon. "We'll find shelter in one of the villages tonight."

As they continued, Trevor couldn't shake the unease crawling up his spine. Priestilia was different from the Mana Continent—cleaner, quieter, but also more fragile. It wasn't just the land; it was the people. He could feel them watching as they passed, their eyes lingering on his worn clothes, his sword, and the shadows that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Beatrice noticed, too. "You're drawing attention."

"I'll survive," Trevor said flatly.

She sighed. "Just… try not to glare at everyone."

Trevor didn't respond, though he made no promises.

***

That night, Trevor stood at the window of his room, staring out at the quiet village below. The stars above were bright, but the shadows in the corners of the room felt darker than they should have been.

He closed his eyes, pressing a hand against his chest where the energy had flared earlier. The warmth was gone now, replaced by a faint, pulsing ache that lingered deep in his bones.

"Chosen…"

The whispers were quieter now, but they hadn't disappeared. He could still hear them—waiting, watching, promising something he wasn't ready to face.

Trevor opened his eyes, his expression hard. "I don't belong to anyone."