The mirror shattered into thousands of sharp shards, each one a reflection of Kael's face. He stumbled back, his hands reaching for anything to steady himself, but the ground beneath him felt like it was shifting. The very air thickened, warping, pulling him deeper into a vision he could not escape. The boy in the mirror—his reflection, but not him—continued to stand there, smiling through the cracks of the glass.
Kael's heart hammered in his chest as he tried to piece together what had just happened. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. His body felt distant, as if he were no longer grounded in his own skin.
You begged for the world to be spared. The gods said no. So you stole their fire and paid the price.
The words echoed in his mind like a curse, repeating, reverberating through the hollows of his soul. His vision blurred as the room seemed to close in on him, the walls pulsing with the rhythmic beating of a heart that didn't belong to him.
"I didn't—" His voice was raw, shaking. "I didn't ask for any of this!"
But the boy in the mirror had already begun to fade, his image distorting as the cracks spread like a disease. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.
A presence stirred behind him, and Kael spun, instinctively raising his arm in defense. But there was no enemy. No soldier. No god. Just Lysandra, her cold eyes reflecting the remnants of the shattered mirror.
"You did ask for it, Kael," she said softly, her voice a whisper that felt like an accusation. She stepped forward, her steps measured, the sound of her boots clicking against the stone floor a dull echo in the silence.
"I didn't—" Kael started, but the words died in his throat as the weight of her gaze pressed down on him. There was something in her eyes, something ancient and knowing. Something he didn't want to acknowledge.
Lysandra reached for him, her fingers brushing his arm lightly, sending a chill through his body. She wasn't the same as before. She wasn't the calm, composed woman who had led him down here. Now, there was something else—something darker, more entwined with the very essence of this place. The Mirror of Binding had stirred more than just his memories. It had stirred her, too.
"Do you see it now?" she asked, her voice low, almost predatory. "The fire you took. The fire that made you who you are. You think it's a gift, Kael. But it's a curse. It always was."
Kael shook his head, trying to push her words away. He took a step back, but the room twisted with every movement, as if it were alive, pressing him into a corner. The walls seemed to pulse, the runes on the floor glowing brighter with every breath he took. His mind whirled, fragments of memories crashing into each other like a violent storm.
"You think you're in control, but you're not," Lysandra continued, her voice like velvet wrapping around his mind, suffocating him. "The god's curse is not something you can escape. It will follow you until the end of time."
"I'm not like them," Kael spat, his fists clenched at his sides. "I didn't ask for this power. I didn't ask to be born this way."
Lysandra's eyes glinted with something he couldn't quite place. She took another step closer, her presence overwhelming, like the very air itself grew thick with her power. "No one asked for the curse, Kael. But once it's given, there is no escape. You carry it, whether you want it or not."
The room shifted again, and suddenly, they were no longer standing in the ritual chamber. The stone walls had disappeared, replaced by a vast, barren landscape. The sky above was a sickly shade of orange, as if the sun were dying, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked earth. It was a place that felt wrong—unnatural—and Kael could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.
Lysandra stood beside him, no longer the woman he had followed down into the depths. Now, she was something else entirely—a creature of the shadows, her form flickering in and out of existence, as if she were both here and not here at the same time.
"This place," Kael whispered, his voice trembling. "Where are we?"
"A fragment of your past," Lysandra said, her tone distant. "A memory. A place that no longer exists."
Kael's gaze moved across the desolate landscape, his heart tightening in his chest. He recognized this place. The broken earth, the scorched sky. It was his childhood home—before the fire, before the soldiers had come. This was where it had all begun. The first spark of destruction, the first sign that the world would never be the same.
But now, everything was different. The familiar had become alien. The warmth of his mother's arms, the sound of her voice calling him home—it was all gone, replaced by this cold, lifeless landscape. And standing here, in the midst of it, Kael couldn't escape the feeling that he had been here before, in some twisted dream, or perhaps in some forgotten life.
"This was where it all started, wasn't it?" Kael said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "This is where I was cursed."
Lysandra's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Kael saw something flicker in them—something almost human. But it was gone before he could grasp it. "This is where you were born," she corrected, her voice harsh. "And this is where you will end."
Kael shook his head. "No. I won't let it end like this."
Lysandra laughed, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. "You never had a choice, Kael. The fire was never yours to control. You were born to burn. You were born to destroy."
"I'll fight," Kael declared, his fists clenched at his sides. "I won't let it consume me. I won't let it control me."
The sky above them darkened, the orange light turning to a deep, blood-red hue. A thunderous crack split the air, and Kael felt the ground beneath him tremble. From the horizon, something began to rise—a figure, tall and imposing, its silhouette outlined against the fiery sky. As it grew closer, Kael's heart stopped.
It was him.
But not the Kael he knew. Not the boy who had stood in the mirror. This was something darker, something twisted by the curse. His own reflection, his own curse made manifest.
"No," Kael gasped, taking a step back. "That's not me."
But the figure was moving toward him, its steps slow and deliberate, its eyes burning with the same fire that had consumed his past. The very air around it seemed to warp and distort, as if the world itself recoiled in fear.
Lysandra stepped forward, her voice filled with a strange reverence. "It is you, Kael. The version of you that the gods saw. The version that never left this place. The one they abandoned."
The figure's eyes locked onto Kael's, and he felt a wave of crushing despair wash over him. This was the monster he had become. This was the curse he had never escaped.
"No," Kael whispered again, shaking his head, trying to deny it. "I'm not him. I'm not…"
But the figure spoke, its voice a deep, resonating growl. "You are, Kael. You always were."
Kael dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I'm not that. I'm not the destroyer they think I am."
The figure reached out, and for a moment, Kael felt a pull—like gravity itself had turned against him. He was being drawn into the dark heart of this vision, this nightmare that had been crafted for him. And as the figure's hand reached for his throat, he knew—he knew that this was the moment. The moment when he would either break or become what they all feared.
Lysandra's voice broke through the chaos. "You have no choice now, Kael. You will either become the god you were always meant to be, or you will die. It is your destiny."
Kael's hand shot out, trembling, but steady. His fingers brushed the ground, finding purchase in the jagged stones beneath him. The fire within him—burning, searing, consuming—rose up like a wave, and Kael's eyes blazed with an intensity he had never felt before. The figure before him faltered, its grip weakening, as if the very fire of Kael's spirit was too much for it to bear.
This was it. The final trial. The moment when Kael would either embrace his curse or shatter it once and for all.
With a roar, he pulled himself to his feet, his body crackling with power. "I am Kael. I am not what you made me. I am not a tool for destruction."
The figure recoiled, its form flickering as Kael's power surged. It wasn't just fire. It wasn't just destruction. It was freedom. Freedom from the curse that had bound him for so long.
The air around them erupted in flames as Kael's power burned through the landscape. The figure shattered into nothingness, its form dissolving like ash in the wind. And for the first time, Kael felt truly free. Truly alive.
But as the flames died down, a new presence emerged from the smoke. A figure, familiar and haunting. Lysandra, her eyes burning with something darker than before.
"Congratulations, Kael," she said softly, her voice like the last whisper of a dream. "You've passed the trial. But remember—this is only the beginning."