Trial of the Forsaken

Chapter 42: Trial of the Forsaken

The howling wind carried the echoes of battle, but Celestine had no time to falter. The Wraiths moved like liquid shadows, striking from all angles. Their forms twisted unnaturally, shifting between solid and mist-like states, making them nearly impossible to hit. Her flames flickered against their frost-coated bodies, but they barely slowed, reforming as quickly as they were burned.

Lucien blocked a spectral blade meant for her, his fangs bared in frustration. "They're not dying fast enough."

Draven dodged a tendril of ice, conjuring black flames in retaliation. "That's because they're not meant to. They're testing us."

Celestine barely heard them. The sigil on her wrist burned hot, her magic pulsing in warning. It was more than just a warning—it was resonating with something inside the temple, something ancient and waiting. Then, she felt it—a shift in the air, something deeper than the cold, older than the ruins around them. The pressure against her chest was almost suffocating, as though the temple itself recognized her presence.

The Wraiths suddenly halted, withdrawing as if called away by an unseen force. Their hollow eyes locked onto Celestine, and the tallest among them pointed a skeletal hand toward the ice-covered temple ahead. "Enter, if you dare."

The ground beneath them rumbled, a deep groan reverberating through the frozen earth. The towering doors of the Temple groaned open, the sound like a dying beast exhaling its last breath. Inside, there was nothing but pitch-black darkness, thick and consuming, as though light had never touched the temple's halls.

Lucien wiped blood from his cheek, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Well, that's inviting."

Draven rolled his eyes, sheathing his dagger. "We don't have a choice. We either face what's inside or freeze out here."

Celestine exhaled sharply, gripping the hilt of her blade. "Then let's get this over with."

The moment they crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind them with an earth-shaking finality. The darkness swallowed them whole, silence pressing in from all sides. A frigid breeze curled through the air, carrying with it the faint whisper of voices—voices that were neither living nor dead.

A pale blue flame flickered to life ahead of them, revealing the temple's interior. The walls were lined with frozen carvings, depictions of battles long forgotten and creatures that no longer walked the earth. The air was thick with something unseen, something waiting.

Then, the whispers became words. "Prove your worth."

The Trial had begun.

Chapter 43: The First Trial

The moment the temple's doors sealed shut behind them, an unnatural silence swallowed the air. The blue flames lining the walls flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows that twisted and stretched like living things, almost as if they were alive. The temperature plummeted further, ice creeping up the stone walls like skeletal fingers reaching out from the abyss.

Celestine tightened her grip on her blade, forcing her breath to steady. Lucien and Draven flanked her, both as tense as coiled springs. The whispering voices had faded, but an overwhelming presence still lingered in the chamber, heavy and suffocating.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath them trembled, sending a deep vibration through their bones.

Celestine barely had time to react before the floor cracked apart, glowing with an eerie blue light. The ground beneath her feet crumbled, giving way to a sudden and violent pull. She gasped as an unseen force yanked her downward, separating her from Lucien and Draven. The last thing she saw was Lucien's outstretched hand reaching for her—his silver eyes widening in alarm—before everything vanished into darkness.

Celestine landed hard, her knees slamming against cold stone with a sharp crack. The impact sent a wave of pain through her legs, but she barely had time to register it. The chamber around her was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of age and decay. A distant drip of water echoed through the hollow space, accompanied by the faint rustling of unseen movement in the shadows.

Her heart pounded. She pushed herself up, her breath visible in the frigid air.

She was alone.

A deep, resonant voice echoed from the walls, low and ancient. "The First Trial begins."

Celestine turned sharply, her eyes scanning the darkness. Mist swirled before her, thick and unnatural, coalescing into a towering figure clad in spectral armor. Its face was obscured, but its glowing eyes bore into hers with unearthly intensity. Its presence was suffocating, pressing against her like an unseen weight.

"Face your past, or be consumed by it."

A chill ran down Celestine's spine as the figure lifted a massive sword, the blade shimmering with an eerie, pulsating glow. Suddenly, the air around her shimmered, rippling like disturbed water. The walls seemed to dissolve, and before she could react, memories flooded the space around her.

She saw herself as a child, standing in the ruins of her family's estate, flames licking at the shattered remains. The screams of her loved ones filled her ears, ghostly echoes of a past she had tried so hard to bury. The smell of blood and smoke was so real that her throat tightened.

Then the vision shifted. She was standing in front of a darkened mirror, and within its cracked reflection, she saw a version of herself she did not recognize—eyes hollow, expression void of emotion. A twisted, corrupted version of her.

"This is what you fear most," the spectral warrior rumbled. "The past you cannot change. The future you cannot escape."

Celestine clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "No. That's not me."

The warrior moved, fast and without mercy. It lunged, bringing the massive blade down toward her in a lethal arc.

Celestine barely had time to react. She threw herself to the side, the blade slamming into the stone floor where she had stood just moments before, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the surface. She rolled onto her feet, gripping her sword tightly.

Her breath was ragged, but her resolve was solid. "I won't let my past define me."

The warrior straightened, its glowing eyes narrowing. "Then fight, Bloodmarked. Prove it."

With a roar, Celestine surged forward.

She had no choice but to fight.