The guardians trial

The guardian lunged, a monstrous blur of jagged bone and swirling darkness. Lysandra barely had time to react before she was forced to dive to the side, her claws digging into the damp earth. The impact of the beast's strike sent shockwaves through the ground, splitting the soil and sending debris flying.

The prince moved with practiced agility, his dark cloak flowing as he dodged the creature's massive claw. The silver of his mask gleamed under the pale moonlight, his body a sharp contrast to the shifting shadows of the Wilds.

Lysandra growled, her instincts flaring to life. The beast inside her stirred, eager to fight—to rip, to tear, to destroy. But she couldn't lose herself to the curse. Not here.

The guardian let out a bone-rattling roar, its burning eyes locked onto her. It saw what she was.

It saw her as a threat.

The prince's voice cut through the chaos. "Stay close!"

But Lysandra didn't listen. She lunged forward, faster than she ever had before, her body a blur of movement. Her claws slashed through the air, aimed for the beast's thick hide but before she could land the blow, the guardian moved.

Too fast.

A massive tail—covered in razor-like protrusions whipped around and struck her square in the chest. The impact sent her flying backward, crashing into the roots of a twisted tree. The breath was knocked from her lungs, and for a moment, everything blurred.

Pain flared through her ribs. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself up. The guardian wasn't just strong—it was intelligent. It had anticipated her attack.

She wiped blood from her lip and looked up just in time to see the prince drawing his sword. The blade, black as midnight, pulsed with an eerie energy. He stood his ground as the guardian turned its burning gaze toward him.

"You don't fight it like a beast," he called to her. "You fight it like a curse."

Lysandra's fingers curled. Like a curse.

The realization struck her like lightning. She had been fighting like a human—like a warrior using brute force. But she wasn't just a warrior anymore. She was something more.

She closed her eyes. Breathe.

The darkness within her stirred, slow at first, then faster. Shadows coiled around her fingers, weaving like ink in water. The curse was alive inside her, writhing, pulsing—waiting.

She let it in.

When she opened her eyes again, the world looked different. The Wilds weren't just trees and shadows anymore they were shifting, breathing, whispering to her. The guardian itself was tethered to something. A force. An anchor.

Its curse.

Lysandra rose to her feet, her body lighter, stronger. She wasn't just a girl anymore. She wasn't just the cursed heir.

She was something new.

The prince saw the change in her and didn't hesitate. He lunged first, his sword slicing through the air in a flash of darkness. The guardian turned its attention to him, its massive claws swiping in retaliation.

And that was all the opening Lysandra needed.

She moved like a shadow, inside the darkness, weaving through the beast's defenses. With a single breath, she reached deep within herself—and then unleashed.

Dark tendrils lashed from her fingertips, striking the guardian's glowing core. It let out a deafening roar, its massive form writhing as the shadows burrowed into its very essence.

The prince leaped back as cracks spread across the guardian's skeletal form, black mist seeping from within. Lysandra could feel it this was not just any creature. It was a remnant of something older, something bound to this place.

Something that did not belong.

With one final cry, the guardian shattered into nothingness, its body dispersing into the very shadows from which it had been formed.

Silence fell over the Wilds. The air, once thick and suffocating, lightened. The whispers faded to a hush.

Lysandra stood there, panting, her hands still shaking. The curse inside her throbbed—but for the first time, it did not feel like a weight. It felt like power.

The prince exhaled and sheathed his sword. "You're stronger than I thought."

Lysandra turned to him, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "And you knew exactly what we were fighting."

A pause. Then, "I've fought them before."

She took a step closer. "Then tell me. What are they?"

The prince hesitated. His fingers twitched at his side, as if weighing whether to reveal the truth.

And then, quietly, he said, "They are the first warning."

A chill ran through Lysandra's spine.

"The first warning of what?"

The masked prince lifted his gaze to the shifting darkness of the Wilds.

"That something worse is coming."

The wind howled.

And far beyond the trees, something laughed.