The Trials of the Flame
The moon waned. A week passed like a dream stitched in silver. Lira, the girl they had rescued, remained with them. Though her memories were fragile, her eyes spoke volumes. She listened when the sisters taught, followed Vaelora with quiet awe, and sometimes, in the stillness of twilight, she would whisper names that didn't belong to any world they knew—echoes of something ancient awakening inside her.
They journeyed now toward the Vale of Whispers, a hidden realm tucked between ridgelines older than time. According to Vaelora, it was there the Wolfguard once trained—to control the Sight, to awaken deeper gifts, and to confront the Mirrored Trials.
As they entered the vale, a hush fell.
Trees grew twisted here, not from rot but reverence. Leaves shimmered with iridescent hues. The wind whispered words in forgotten languages. Lira clutched Serene's hand tightly.
Auriel turned to Vaelora. "You said we would be tested. What will it demand of us?"
The wolf's answer was a solemn silence. Then she spoke:
"The mirror never lies, but it does not forgive."
They came to a lake—still as glass, its surface like polished obsidian under starlight. No ripples touched its edge, and no creature dared drink from it.
In the center stood a dais of crystal, and above it, hovering impossibly in the air, floated the Mirror of Kharnaal.
The moment the sisters stepped forward, their reflections changed. No longer did they see themselves in white robes. Instead—
Auriel saw fire. Cities burning. Herself cloaked in ash, her hands ablaze with uncontrollable power. Screams echoed. She fell to her knees.
Serene saw ice. A void. She stood alone on a broken plain, no wolf, no sister, only silence and a cold moon above. Her heart thudded in the unbearable weight of solitude.
Lira gasped. "What's happening to them?"
Vaelora's fur bristled. "They must face who they could become."
The reflections stepped out of the mirror—twisted versions of the sisters. Auriel's double burned bright and cruel, laughing with flame-dripping hands. Serene's mirrored self was cold, distant, her eyes hollow as winter's night.
The real Auriel staggered upright. "You are not me!"
The flame-Auriel sneered. "Aren't I? I am the fury you hide, the wrath you justify. I am the fire you fear."
Serene faced hers calmly. "You are my grief. But I will not freeze the world to preserve it."
She walked forward, and for a moment, the ice-Serene cracked. The reflection faltered, then shattered into crystal snow.
Auriel shouted, drawing on her bond with Vaelora. The wolf howled—and a beam of moonlight split the sky, striking flame-Auriel through the heart. She vanished in smoke and sparks.
Both sisters stood panting.
They had passed.
From the lake rose six silver pedestals. Upon each sat an artifact—gifts of the old Wolfguard:
For Auriel: A blade carved from dawnlight, wrapped in fire-veined obsidian—Solharrow.
For Serene: A crescent-shaped mirror of living moonlight, able to reflect truth—Lunethis.
For Lira: A seed, pulsing with quiet light—The Heart of the Grove.
Lira stepped forward without fear and touched it. The seed dissolved into her chest, and her eyes glowed. Vaelora approached her gently.
"She will be the next," the wolf whispered. "But her path is still veiled."
Peace did not last.
In the distant city of Calvenreach, the Hollowed awoke. Once human, now husks—their souls eaten by a creature called The Wyrm Beneath. They moved like shadows wrapped in skin, their eyes dark as cinders.
A wind carried their presence. Plants withered as they passed. Animals fled their scent.
The balance was breaking faster.
The sisters knew their mission now. They were not simply defenders of forest glades and ancient spirits. They were guardians of the realm itself—its memory, its soul.
And the Hollowed were coming.
Before war, came gathering.
Vaelora led them to the Summit of Nine Peaks, where wolves of legend and their bonded humans convened. No one had seen them in generations.
There they met:
Thorne and his bonded wolf, Nyx, black as eclipse, guardians of the shadowed plains.
Maela of the Skywatch, an archer with silver eyes and her hawk-wolf, Virel.
The Seer Elian, whose wolf wore a crown of antlers.
Each had felt the tremors. Each had known the silence of the Old Ones breaking.
Auriel and Serene, the youngest of them, stood without fear.
"The Hollowed spread fast," Thorne said. "Calvenreach is lost. If we do not rise, the Wyrm will eat the roots of the world tree."
Lira stepped forward. Though just a girl, her voice rang out.
"Then we go."
The council fell silent.
Elian smiled. "From the mouth of the youngest, truth."
Vaelora raised her head.
"We march at moonrise."
They descended with the fury of winter and the grace of moonfire.
The Hollowed met them in the burned-out streets of Calvenreach. Shadows screamed. Buildings wept blood. The Wyrm's voice echoed through alleyways.
Auriel, wielding Solharrow, cut through creatures of soot and bone. Her fire did not consume—it purified.
Serene stood at the tower's base, Lunethis casting light into the dark corners of every soul. Where her mirror shone, the Hollowed wailed and vanished.
Lira called roots from beneath stone, vines splitting pavement, lifting children from cellars.
And Vaelora—oh, Vaelora.
She leapt from rooftops, her eyes glowing brighter than the moon. The Wyrm emerged at last—an enormous serpent of smoke and hunger.
"I REMEMBER YOU," it hissed at the wolf.
Vaelora did not reply with words.
She howled—and the sky cracked open.
Stars rained down like arrows. The Seer chanted. Maela loosed fire-tipped bolts. Thorne fell with five Hollowed on him, only to rise again, howling in pain.
Auriel leapt, Solharrow poised, and pierced the Wyrm's heart.
Serene held the mirror to its face.
And the Wyrm saw itself.
It shattered.
The Hollowed fell to ash.
When dawn broke, Calvenreach stood in ruins—but alive.
The survivors lit lanterns of remembrance. Songs were sung. The Wolfguard were no longer myth.
Children began drawing wolves on walls. People planted trees in scorched streets. The world was mending.
Vaelora stood tall, bloodied but alive. The sisters leaned against her flanks.
"We are no longer just sisters," Serene whispered.
"No," Auriel agreed. "We are Flame and Moon. And we will guard this world."
Lira slept in Auriel's arms, her hand glowing faintly with the grove-heart's power.
They looked east.
New storms would rise.
But they were ready.