The staircase spiraled like a descending helix carved through the bones of the earth. Each step Kael took sent vibrations echoing down into the dark below—each one answered, as if something deep beneath was listening. The air was heavier here, not just with dust but with weight, like gravity twisted tighter the further he went.
Sarai hadn't spoken for minutes now. The silence felt unnatural—almost too quiet. Her usual stream of guidance, sarcastic quips, or cryptic commentary was absent. Kael didn't realize how much he had started to depend on her voice until it vanished.
"Still with me?" he whispered into the dark.
Nothing.
His breath caught in his throat. He reached inward—into the part of him that had changed when they'd been bound. The resonance core within him still pulsed, faint and steady. Sarai was still there, but… withdrawn. Waiting.
He stopped on the final step. Before him stretched a wide platform of ancient stone, suspended over a sheer chasm with no visible bottom. In the center stood a single monolith—smooth, obelisk-shaped, and humming faintly with a low resonance that vibrated through Kael's bones.
And then she spoke.
"This is your trial."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Now you talk?"
"This is not a path you walk as a passenger. The Core will judge your identity, your will, your purpose. If you falter, it will unmake you."
"Unmake," he muttered, stepping onto the platform. "You've got a real gift for encouragement."
The monolith reacted to his presence. Rings of glyph-light spiraled outward from its base. From the shadows around the chasm, other shapes began to emerge—humanoid figures made of fractured glass and obsidian, their limbs etched with shifting runes. They didn't walk—they drifted forward in silence.
Kael summoned his blade.
One of the glass-hollows raised its hand—and suddenly Kael was back on the surface, standing before his brother's grave.
He froze.
The scent of ash. The crooked headstone. His own voice, younger, echoing in his ears: "I'll make it out. I'll bring you back something worth the name."
The illusion cracked—Kael slashed the vision apart with his blade, heart racing.
"What the hell was that?"
"The Core tests memory. Doubt. It will show you what weakens you—and see if you'll yield."
The hollows moved.
Kael fought.
Blade met blade, steel sparked on crystal, and for each hollow he shattered, another stepped forward. But it wasn't just a fight of weapons—they whispered. Taunted. Echoed voices from his past.
"You always ran."
"You didn't save them."
"You survived because you were afraid to die."
Kael bled.
He kept moving.
A final figure emerged from the monolith—a mirrored version of himself, clad in Aeon armor, eyes cold and expressionless.
Kael charged.
The clash was brutal, each strike met with equal force. His mirror fought without emotion, without hesitation. Kael stumbled, parried, struck back.
But it didn't stop.
Until he stopped trying to win.
He lowered his blade.
And said, "I'm not you."
The mirrored Kael paused.
"I'm not your perfection. I'm not the Aeon's mold. I'm not some chosen vessel. I'm me—flawed, scared, angry. But I'm still walking."
The mirror cracked.
It shattered.
The monolith pulsed once, and the entire chamber lit with resonance light—deep violet shifting to a pale, burning white.
Sarai's voice returned, softer this time. "You are ready."
Kael dropped to one knee, breath ragged.
"I hope so," he muttered.
A section of the far wall rumbled, opening to reveal a long corridor of glistening metal and root-veined stone.
Beyond it lay the true Hollowroot.