The guardian moved like smoke and stone, its form heavy yet fast, every strike shaking the ground beneath them. Aric ducked a wide swing and slashed upward with the Emberblade, red light flaring as steel met shadow. The blade hissed on contact, cutting into the creature's arm—but instead of bleeding, it crumbled slightly, like brittle rock.
"Strike the joints!" Dain shouted from behind a fallen column. "That's where the old magic's weakest!"
Maelis loosed an arrow that burst against the guardian's chest, barely slowing it. Aric didn't wait. He pivoted low and rolled beneath the creature's next blow, then rose fast, stabbing into its knee. The guardian howled, a sound like breaking mountains, and staggered.
The chamber trembled. Cracks split the floor, glowing faintly with emberlight. The sigil on the altar pulsed faster, reacting to the fight. Aric's blade burned brighter in his grip, growing hot, almost too hot to hold.
The guardian swung its arm like a hammer. Aric raised the blade to block—but the impact launched him across the chamber. He hit a pillar hard and crumpled. For a moment, his vision blurred.
Then he saw her.
In the flickering light, standing just behind the altar, was a figure—faint and fading. A woman with hair like ash and eyes of fire. She didn't speak, but he felt her presence deep in his chest. She raised her hand slowly… and pointed at the sigil.
Aric forced himself up, limping toward the altar. The guardian roared, turning to intercept him.
Maelis stepped in its path. "Over here, rockface!" She fired two more arrows—one to the eye, the other to the shoulder. They sparked and cracked, drawing the creature's fury. Dain joined her, slashing with twin axes to keep it off balance.
Aric reached the altar. The sigil pulsed with power. His fingers hovered over it.
"The flame does not know you," the guardian's voice boomed again.
Aric clenched his jaw. "Then let it learn."
He placed his palm on the sigil.
Heat exploded through him—not burning, but consuming. His thoughts raced. Images flooded his mind—of battles long past, of the Emberlords, of the blade's first forging, and of the war that shattered everything. He saw the face of the one who forged the blade—and the one who corrupted it.
And somewhere in the storm of memory, he saw his own face.
The guardian froze mid-strike. Its ember eyes dimmed. The stones binding it cracked, split, and fell away. It collapsed, shattering like a statue.
The chamber fell silent. The sigil dimmed. The power inside Aric settled, no longer wild, but waiting.
Maelis walked over, eyes wide. "What did you do?"
Aric looked at the blade in his hand. Its light had changed—deeper now, steadier. "I passed the trial."
Dain let out a long breath. "Then the real journey begins."