Chapter 18: The Trials of Fire and Shadow

Shira's breath came in shallow gasps as she and Elias stood within the ancient temple's shifting walls. The moment the fire dragon had crumbled, the chamber around them had warped again, transforming into a cavernous abyss where darkness pulsated like a living entity. The runes on the walls dimmed, their golden glow flickering as though uncertain of their own strength.

"The second trial," Elias murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shira clenched her fists, steadying herself as an oppressive force settled over the room. Her body ached from the first trial—the fire had awakened something inside her, something she barely understood. The residual energy still pulsed beneath her skin, but the newfound power felt raw and unstable, like a fire threatening to consume its own vessel.

A shadow shifted before them, coalescing into a figure. Shira froze as recognition struck her like a blade to the chest.

Darin.

He stood in the center of the chamber, his body flickering between what he had been in life and what Darkwind had twisted him into. His eyes, once filled with determination, now held only accusation and pain. The air thickened, pressing down on her shoulders, making it hard to breathe.

"Shira," Darin's voice was strained, laced with something venomous. "Why did you kill me?"

A tremor ran through her. "This isn't real."

Darin took a step forward, his form glitching as though he existed in two realities at once. "Isn't it? Tell me, did you hesitate when you ripped the life from me?"

"I didn't—" She swallowed hard. "You were gone, Darin. Darkwind took you."

His lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. "And that justifies it?"

Elias moved beside her, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Shira, don't listen. It's a trick."

But Darin ignored him, his attention locked on Shira. "You think you're different from Darkwind? You burned me alive. I remember the pain. I remember the rage. And I remember—" His form distorted, flickering into Darkwind himself. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "You liked it."

Shira's breath hitched. Images flashed before her—the heat of her flames engulfing Darin, the way his screams had echoed through the battlefield, the way she had felt nothing in that moment but power. Her stomach twisted violently.

"No," she whispered. "I didn't want to—"

Darkwind's form shifted again, towering over her, his shadow wrapping around her throat like invisible chains. "And what will you do when it happens again? When Elias stands before you, pleading for his life? Will you hesitate? Or will you burn him too?"

Shira's vision blurred as the pressure in her chest intensified. A storm of emotions swirled within her—guilt, fury, and something darker lurking beneath it all. The temple's walls groaned, as if reacting to her turmoil.

A scream tore from her lips as fire burst from her in an uncontrollable wave. The illusion shattered, and she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.

The Guardian's voice resonated through the chamber. "The darkness will always tempt you, but only you can choose whether to embrace it."

Shira lifted her head, her fists trembling. She knew it. And she was terrified.

The second trial had been passed, but at what cost?

Shira and Elias stood before the final door, its surface engraved with the sigil of the Dragonlord. She could still feel the lingering weight of the last trial pressing against her chest, but she forced herself to push forward. There was no turning back.

With a deep breath, she reached out and placed her palm against the door. The runes pulsed, and with a grinding sound, the entrance swung open to reveal a vast chamber. At its center, upon an obsidian pedestal, lay a blade unlike any Shira had ever seen. Its hilt was adorned with ancient draconic script, and its edge shimmered as if woven from the fabric of the stars themselves.

"The Blade of the First Dragonlord," Elias breathed, reverence in his voice.

Shira approached the weapon slowly, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. The moment her fingers brushed against the hilt, an unbearable pain exploded through her skull. Visions swarmed her mind—flashes of a time long past.

A kingdom consumed by war. Dragons soaring above burning lands. And at the heart of it all—Darkwind. But he hadn't always been a monster. She saw him standing beside the First Dragonlord, a loyal companion. A protector.

And then, she saw the betrayal.

Darkwind had not been born of darkness—he had been made into it. Twisted by something even older, something even more terrifying.

Shira gasped as the vision receded, her grip tightening on the blade. "Darkwind wasn't always evil."

Elias frowned. "Then what changed him?"

Shira swallowed hard. "Something far worse is coming."