Tea,Trials and Troublesome Truths
The tavern was packed, bustling with midday chatter, the scent of roasted meat, and something that smelled suspiciously like… sweaty boots. Kairo had been dragged there by Samhael, who insisted he "needed a break," which translated roughly to "I'm bored and you look miserable."
He sipped his lukewarm tea with the grace of someone pretending it wasn't terrible.
"Why is this called Dragon's Breath?" Kairo asked, eyeing the slightly greenish tint of the tea.
"Because it burns your soul on the way down," Samhael said cheerfully, taking a huge gulp. "You get used to it after your third emotional breakdown."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "You've had three?"
Samhael leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "In the past week."
Across from them, Adric nibbled at a biscuit, oblivious to the taste battle occurring beside him. The blond knight had been quiet since the last mission, his mind visibly elsewhere.
"So," Samhael started, her eyes narrowing mischievously, "when are you going to tell us what that thing was?"
"What thing?" Kairo asked, too quickly.
"The one that whispered in your shadow like a drunk librarian."
Kairo froze.
She leaned in, "You heard it, didn't you?"
"…Yes."
Adric looked up. "I heard it too."
"Oh lovely," Kairo muttered. "I was hoping I hallucinated it."
Samhael grinned. "It said something about 'the Eye returning.' That sound like something from your creepy book club?"
"It's not a book club," Kairo said, then sighed. "And yes, probably."
The Eye. The whisper had surfaced again last night, right after Kairo tried meditating, trying to see if the broken seal had changed anything. Instead of divine clarity, he got a headache and a voice that called him 'vessel.'
"You know," Samhael said, resting her chin in her hands, "if this thing wants to take over your soul, I'd appreciate some warning. I'll need to prepare my dramatic monologue."
Kairo chuckled despite himself.
---
Later that evening, the trio found themselves summoned to the Hall of Echoes, an ancient structure built into the cliffside. It was part temple, part archive, and entirely unnerving.
Master Teyvan stood at the top of the dais, flanked by stone statues that looked too lifelike. "You've been called here for a reason."
"No one ever says that and means something good," Samhael whispered.
Kairo straightened. "We're listening."
"There is a trial," Teyvan said, voice echoing across the chamber. "One only you three can face."
The statues behind him stirred.
Adric stiffened. "Uh, did that statue just blink?"
"Yes," Teyvan said. "They will be your opponents."
"Great," Samhael muttered. "Stone people. Because fighting actual people is too easy."
"Each of you must face a reflection of yourselves," Teyvan explained. "Not physically, but metaphysically. Mentally. Spiritually."
Kairo paled. "We're going to fight our emotional baggage?"
"Yes," Teyvan said, as if that were the most natural answer in the world.
---
Kairo's Trial
He was pulled into a dim space that smelled of old paper and candle wax. A library—familiar, yet warped. The books whispered, literally, and his younger self stood in the center.
"You gave up on us," the boy said.
Kairo frowned. "No. I survived."
"You forgot why we started reading in the first place. Not for power. Not for answers."
"…Then what?"
"To belong."
The boy pointed at the shadows. They writhed, forming monstrous shapes that bore the sigils from Kairo's spellbook. "You let them in. You let it grow."
Kairo took a breath. The shadows circled. Fear gripped him—but then, he laughed.
"You're right," he said. "But I'm not done writing."
He opened his palm, letting the glyphs rise not from fear, but purpose.
---
Samhael's Trial
She landed in a tavern. Her old one. The walls were cracked, mirrors broken.
At the bar sat her father—drunk, as usual. "Still pretending, huh?"
She gritted her teeth. "What do you want?"
He laughed. "You don't belong with them. You're not a knight. You're a joke."
Samhael marched up, slammed her fist into the bar. "I might be. But I'm my joke."
He smirked. "That's not a comeback."
She punched him.
Then tossed him a handkerchief.
"You're right," she added. "But I'm laughing anyway."
---
Adric's Trial
Adric walked through a battlefield of ashes. His older brother stood at the center.
"You still think honor means anything?" the ghost asked.
Adric drew his blade. "I think it means everything."
"You'll die chasing that dream."
Adric nodded. "Then I'll die facing the right direction."
He stepped forward, one clean swing severing the illusion.
---
When the three returned to the chamber, Teyvan looked… surprised.
"You passed," he said. "Quickly."
Samhael dusted her shoulder. "What can I say? We're emotionally unstable, but efficient."
Kairo exhaled deeply. "What now?"
"The next stage," Teyvan said. "The one where the world stops pretending it doesn't see you."
Kairo blinked. "That doesn't sound ominous at all."
"Indeed," Teyvan replied. "You'll get used to that."
They walked out together, a little stronger, a little closer, and—despite everything—a little amused.
Samhael nudged Kairo. "Still got that whispery voice in your head?"
Kairo smiled. "He says you snore."
She grinned. "Tell him I've got plenty more where that came from."
And somewhere in the folds of the wind, the whisper chuckled back.