Chapter 59: The Trial of the Deep Flame
Lady Lys led Andrew alone into the heart of the Citadel—beyond the prisoners and the halls of stone—into a chamber veiled in ancient firelight. The walls pulsed with red sigils, alive with intent.
"This is the Trial of the Deep Flame," she said. "A test given only to those who bear cursed relics. If you survive, you may gain understanding. If you fail… you may never return."
Ashren began to hum as if it already recognized the place. Andrew felt heat bloom across his skin—pressure building in his chest.
"I'm ready," he said.
Lys stepped back into the shadows. The stone floor cracked beneath his feet—and the world vanished.
- Into the Inner World-
Andrew stood now in a realm of fire and ash. The sky was black. Mountains floated in the air, defying gravity. There was no ground—only shattered memory, suspended in time.
"This is the forge of self," a voice boomed.
A colossal version of Ashren stood stabbed into the floating land before him. Beside it, shadows danced—versions of himself in various forms: the tyrant king, the swordmaster, the warlord cloaked in fire.
They circled him.
"You think you're different," said one. "But you were always the storm."
"Always the blade," said another. "Even when you tried to be the shield."
"Why fight what you are?" the last hissed. "Power is yours. Take it."
The shadows lunged.
- Clash of the Selves-
Andrew drew Ashren.
The sword ignited with shadow and flame, parrying each blow from his past selves. Every strike they landed bled memory into him—memories of betrayal, conquest, guilt, and fire.
"You killed innocents."
"You broke realms."
"You made gods kneel and still wanted more."
Andrew dropped to his knees, gasping.
"I'm not him anymore!"
Suddenly, the blade in his hand pulsed—and a new voice whispered.
"Then prove it."
A new form emerged—a mirror of himself, but forged of light instead of shadow. It didn't attack. It offered a hand.
"Forgive yourself… or become him again."
Andrew reached out—
And the fire vanished.
- Reawakening-
He gasped awake in the Citadel's chamber, on his knees. Ashren floated beside him—its aura calmer, steadier.
Lady Lys stood over him, expression unreadable.
"Well?"
Andrew stood, eyes burning with a soft, violet light.
"I don't want to rule the world," he said. "I want to save it."
Lys studied him for a long moment… then nodded.
"Then you might yet be strong enough to stop the one who does."
- Chapter End Hook: A Glimpse of the Fifth-
Far across the realm, beneath a temple drowned in sand, a single heartbeat echoed—deep, ancient, and unstoppable.
A being chained in gold stirred.
Eyes opened—black suns in a cracked face.
And the Fifth Seat smiled.