The firelight danced across Lyka's scorched skin, revealing a tapestry of half-healed wounds and runes etched in agony. Her eyes—one gold, one obsidian—gleamed with recognition as they locked onto Azael.
"My sister?" Azael's voice cracked like brittle glass. "That's impossible."
Lyka tilted her head, stepping closer. "Is it? You think you were the only secret she buried?"
Selene's sword was halfway drawn. "One more step—"
"Relax, shadow-pet," Lyka mocked. "I'm not here to kill you. Yet."
The Oracle floated higher, flame rippling in her basin. "Two of the broken flame… reunited beneath the mountain. The echoes are awakening."
Azael stepped forward, anger and confusion battling in his chest. "Why now? Why reveal yourself now?"
"Because now," Lyka said, circling him, "you finally touched the fire. You remembered. And that means they'll come for you. The Accord. The Watchers. Even the Ashborn." Her grin turned feral. "But first… you'll come with me."
"To where?"
"To the Scorched Vale. Where our bloodline began—and where it was betrayed."
Selene moved between them again. "He's not going anywhere with you."
Lyka chuckled. "You think you can stop me?"
Flames burst around her feet, shadow weaving through the tendrils like oil in water. "I didn't survive Maerith's culling just to be stalled by a blade."
"You're one of the Forsaken," Selene whispered.
Lyka didn't deny it. "And I'm not the only one."
The temple rumbled beneath them. From the fire basin, the Oracle's voice echoed, now layered with other voices, overlapping like a chorus of ancient souls. "The balance tips. The twins have awakened. Let the Trials begin."
A sigil carved itself into the floor beneath Azael's feet—a blazing circle of light and darkness.
"What is this?" he asked.
"The first Trial," Lyka said. "To claim what's rightfully ours. Power. Memory. Dominion."
Before Azael could respond, the temple vanished.
—
He fell.
Not through space, but through memory.
Screams. Blood. A palace burning in black flame. A woman's voice shouting his name.
"Protect the child!"
He landed on hard stone.
They stood in a circular arena, surrounded by phantoms of fire—some watching, some weeping.
Selene was gone. Only Lyka remained, her blade drawn.
"This is it, brother. The Trial of Truth."
"I'm not your brother."
"You will be. After this."
She charged.
Their blades clashed. Fire against fire. Shadow twisting through every strike.
She moved like she'd been born for war. Azael fought with instinct, but something within him—something buried—uncoiled.
With a cry, he released a wave of silver flame, knocking Lyka back.
She laughed from the ground. "Yes! That's it! That's what they fear!"
Azael stood over her, panting. "What are you?"
Lyka rose slowly. "A reminder. That we are more than prophecy. We are revolution."
The phantoms bowed. The sigil beneath them flared, and a voice whispered:
"One Trial passed. Two remain."
The vision shattered.
—
They were back in the temple.
Selene ran to Azael, grabbing his shoulders. "What happened?"
"I saw it," he breathed. "The truth. The past. The power."
The Oracle nodded. "Then you must decide, Azael Virex. Will you follow in their footsteps—or burn a new path?"
Azael turned to Lyka, then to Selene. "I won't be a weapon. Not for the Watchers. Not for the Forsaken. Not even for fate."
Lyka's smirk faded slightly. "Then you better get strong. Fast."
A shadow passed overhead. A bell tolled in the distance.
The Oracle whispered, "The second Trial begins at dusk."
Stay tuned....