Chapter 10 – Trial by Ash
The lamp had shattered.
Shards of glass scattered across the stone floor, sparkling like frozen tears under the last flicker of candlelight. Elira's breath caught in her throat, her boots crunching softly as she stepped back.
The book glowed.
Not brightly. Not threateningly. But with a deep, cold illumination—like a memory surfacing from beneath black waters.
The pages stirred, flipping slowly, then froze.
One sentence burned itself onto the parchment in a curling silver fire:
TRIAL I: THE ASH OF MEMORYReveal the truth you fear most.Or be swallowed by your own past.
Before Elira could react, a ring of flame slithered from the book and encircled her feet.
It hissed softly, like a snake coiling for warmth.
Then—everything fell away.
The library walls crumbled into smoke. The light above shattered into a void.
And Elira… was somewhere else.
The Corridor of Mirrors
The world around her solidified into a corridor—long, endless, cold.
Walls of silver glass rose high to either side of her, forming mirrors tall as the spires of Aetherhold's cathedral. But these weren't mere reflections.
Each pane shimmered with a different fragment of her life.
One showed her as a child, running through golden fields—laughing with a mother whose face was always blurred.Another displayed her cowering beneath a staircase, books scattered around her, fingers bruised.A third… her standing at the head of an army, flames pouring from her palms as the sky bled crimson.
Each version of her was different—older, younger, twisted, triumphant.
Elira stepped forward, mesmerized, her reflection shifting with every step.
"What is this…?" she whispered.
From the darkness beyond the mirrors came a voice.
Not her own. Not entirely human.
It was ancient and heavy with memory.
"This is what was. What could have been. What you chose to forget."
"And what was stolen from you."
The flame-ring at her feet moved with her now—tracing her steps like a guardian… or a leash.
The Cracking Mirror
One mirror flickered more than the rest.
Elira approached it hesitantly.
Inside, she saw herself, older—perhaps seventeen, maybe eighteen—dressed in a regal black gown embroidered with phoenix feathers.
She stood in a throne room, silent.
People bowed before her.
But her eyes were hollow.
"I don't remember this," Elira muttered.
"Because this future was severed," the voice whispered. "The crown was taken before it ever touched your head."
The mirror cracked.
Behind it, an iron door appeared—runes etched deep into its rusted surface.
Her palm throbbed.
The glowing rune beneath her glove pulsed once… and the door opened.
Not slowly. Not with ceremony.
It simply opened.
And Elira fell through.
Through Her Mother's Eyes
Wind rushed past her ears as color swirled into form.
She landed on her feet.
But… they weren't hers.
She was taller. Her hair heavier. The room around her was blazing with torchlight.
And on her hand—
A golden ring bearing the Ashborne crest.
Elira stumbled backward.
She wasn't Elira anymore.
She was Elenya.
She stood within the Ash Throne, the once-glorious hall of the royal family. Columns of flame roared in the distance. The banners of Ashborne fluttered proudly—before they would later burn.
Before her stood three masked men.
One wore a mask of obsidian glass.
One, a mask of bone and thorn.
And the last… a mirror mask.
He stepped forward and knelt.
"You summoned us, Your Majesty."
Elenya—Elira—felt her mouth move.
"You swore yourselves to the Crown," she said coldly. "Now I hear whispers of betrayal. Of secrets you keep even from me."
The bone-masked man bowed lower.
"We serve the flame."
"Then why do I feel cold?"
The vision warped.
Elira blinked, and suddenly, she stood beside her mother—watching the memory instead of living it.
She saw the moment clearly now.
The tension. The doubt. The unspoken threat.
Then the mirror-masked man stepped forward.
"Do not mistake silence for treason," he said.
And yet—
He reached toward Elenya's crown.
Lifted it.
And without hesitation—
Crushed it.
The gold turned to ash.
Elira gasped.
The throne room collapsed around her, stone falling like dead leaves.
Ash and Realization
Elira fell to her knees.
The dream shattered like glass, and she was again in the corridor—but now surrounded by smoke and burning feathers.
The mirrors were falling, one by one.
Some exploded outward in shards. Others melted into pools of silver fire.
Only one reflection remained.
The version of her kneeling before the masked man—hands bound, head bowed.
He stood over her, silent, unmoving.
Elira turned away.
"I am not that girl."
But the reflection spoke.
"You will be. When all else fails, when truth shatters your spirit, when your allies fall—you'll kneel, or burn."
The voice returned—quieter now, but colder:
"Will you remember what they took?"
"Or forget what you are?"
Elira looked at the fire. At the ashes.
At her hands.
They were not trembling anymore.
She stood.
Tall. Defiant.
"I will not kneel."
"And if I must burn—then so be it."
The Trial Ends
The corridor faded into embers.
The voice dissolved into wind.
And Elira found herself back in the library, standing amid shattered glass and dying candlelight.
The book lay closed.
Its cover now bore a new sigil—a thorn-shaped brand scorched into the leather.
She touched it.
The page inside read:
Trial I: PassedMemory Reclaimed:Fragment 3 – The Betrayal of the Flame Queen.
Her breath caught.
"It was real," she whispered. "The man who took everything from her… is still watching me."
A sudden knock on her dorm door made her jump.
"Elira? You in there?" came Caelum's voice. "You missed breakfast and class."
She quickly pushed the book under her bed.
"Coming!"
But in her mind… the embers still burned.
Elsewhere: Observing Eyes
Far from the academy, in a stone tower wrapped in ice and shadow, the mirror-masked man opened his palm.
The basin before him shimmered.
The image of Elira standing in the trial, wrapped in fire, lingered there.
He spoke to no one.
"So… you remember. Good."
He reached for a scroll sealed in wax, marked with the same thorn emblem.
"Send the second trial. She'll be hungry for answers now.And answers…""…come at a price."
The wind howled against the windows.
From the tower's roof, a black bird took flight.