The air crackled with raw energy.
Above the floating platform, the stars swirled faster, as if stirred by an unseen hand. Constellations twisted into unfamiliar shapes — swords, broken crowns, open eyes, and burning trees.
Fred stood firm, sword in hand, feeling the tremor of ancient magic beneath his boots. Around him, Elise, Damon, Mira, and Zara formed a tight circle, their faces pale but determined.
Seraphine floated above the platform, her silver hair billowing like smoke in the cosmic winds.
"The Trial of Echoes," she announced, her voice weaving through the void, "is not a test of strength alone. It is a test of heart, of memory, of fear."
One by one, the masked figures raised their arms.
The runes etched into the platform blazed to life, carving pathways in the air — glowing, shifting mazes that seemed to stretch into infinity.
Then the platform began to split.
Large chunks of stone drifted apart like islands torn from a continent, leaving gaping chasms between them. Fred's team barely had time to react, leaping to stable ground as their footing crumbled.
Each island was different.
One was a graveyard of shattered swords under a black sun.
Another was a garden of crystal trees, whispering with lost voices.
Another was a mirror maze, reflecting twisted versions of themselves.
The platform beneath Fred's feet pulsed once — and then Zara, Mira, Damon, and Elise were yanked away by invisible forces, hurled onto separate islands.
Fred found himself alone.
"Face your echo," Seraphine said, her voice both near and impossibly far. "Or be lost."
The air around him shimmered.
Before Fred could move, a figure stepped out of the mist — a figure wearing his face.
But not the Fred he was now.
This Fred was younger, dressed in simple clothes stained with blood and dirt, his eyes wild with fear and anger. His sword was crude, chipped, and he held it with both hands, trembling.
Fred's heart clenched.
It was him, years ago — before the journey, before the betrayals, before the battles.
Before he learned who he truly was.
The younger Fred lifted his sword.
"You failed us," he snarled, voice thick with grief. "You left them to die."
Fred tightened his grip on his blade, swallowing the lump rising in his throat.
The memories surged — faces he had failed to save, choices he had made, regrets that gnawed at him in the darkest hours.
"I did what I had to," Fred said, voice hoarse.
The younger Fred attacked.
He moved fast — fueled by rage, not technique. Fred parried, barely deflecting the blow. Sparks flew from the clash of their swords.
The battle was brutal.
Fred dodged and weaved, feeling each strike like a physical wound. His younger self fought with all the fire of someone who had lost everything and wanted the world to burn for it.
"You abandoned us!" the echo screamed, slashing wildly.
"You became what you hated!"
Fred gritted his teeth, stepping back.
"I survived," he said fiercely. "I changed. I had to."
The echo lunged again, but Fred sidestepped, sweeping the legs out from under his younger self.
The echo hit the ground hard, gasping.
Fred stood over him, sword poised — but he didn't strike.
Instead, he dropped to one knee and reached out.
"I never forgot you," Fred said quietly. "I never will."
The echo looked up, eyes brimming with tears.
Then, slowly, the figure dissolved into stardust, vanishing on the wind.
The ground beneath Fred's feet glowed, and a bridge of light appeared, stretching toward the next island where Elise fought her own reflection.
Fred rose, determination burning brighter than ever.
One by one, they would face their echoes.
One by one, they would conquer the past.
Because the true enemy was still out there — lurking beyond the stars.
And Fred could feel it watching.
Hungry.
Waiting.
He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and sprinted across the bridge.
The Trial of Echoes had only just begun.
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