The arena stilled, not because the battle ended, but because something ancient entered the field.
She moved through the storm of blades and flames as though untouched by reality. Wraiths that surged toward her vanished in bursts of black ash. Psionic assaults crumbled before reaching her aura. Even Valen Solari took a cautious step back.
Ayaka gripped her pulse rifle tighter. "That's her. That's the woman from your vision."
Jareth didn't speak. His heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear. It was recognition. Not from sight or sound, but something deeper. A pull in his blood, as if his very existence responded to her presence.
She stopped ten paces from him, her eyes unreadable.
"You've awakened it," she said. Her voice was softer than he expected. Not harsh. Not distant. Just quiet, like wind before a storm.
Jareth lowered his stance, wary. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head, as though considering the question.
"I am what they buried. What they feared. What your bloodline abandoned."
Sera whispered through the comms, "We need to pull back. This doesn't feel like a Trial anymore."
The woman smiled faintly. "It never was."
And then the arena shifted.
The Trial Keeper's voice boomed again, distorted now, like something ancient had hijacked the system.
"False heirs. Stolen blood. The dominion is flawed. Reset required."
The entire basin cracked like glass.
Space folded in on itself. Reality bent.
In the blink of an eye, they were no longer in Skyfang Basin.
They stood at the edge of an abyss.
Above them, a shattered sky. Below them, a field of black roots twisting like veins across a continent of bone.
"This is the Deep Origin," the woman said. "Your ancestors sealed it. But your awakening has broken the seal."
Jareth's voice was steady. "What do you want?"
"I want nothing. But they do."
From the root forest rose shadows taller than towers, faceless and hollow-eyed. Ancient beings born of failed cultivation realms. Things that existed between reality and memory.
They were watching him.
The woman raised a single finger. A ripple pulsed through the air.
Ayaka and Sera staggered, blood trailing from their noses.
Jareth didn't move.
"What are they?" he asked.
"Reminders," she said. "That the throne you chase is built on lies."
He stepped forward. "And you?"
"I am the last Gatekeeper of the First Realm. Your realm. The one your bloodline turned its back on."
Jareth's mind raced. The First Realm was myth. Something mentioned in the Black family's oldest forbidden texts. A world before worlds. A realm consumed in its own power.
No heir had ever claimed descent from it.
Until now.
The woman approached, eyes meeting his. She reached toward his chest, and without touching, her finger hovered above the center of his core.
A glow emerged dark, red-edged, pulsing like a slow drumbeat.
"You carry its seed," she whispered. "It will awaken soon. And when it does, you'll have to choose."
The shadows moved behind her. The Deep Origin stirred.
"You're not ready," she said again.
Then, in an instant, everything snapped back.
The arena returned. The sky above was normal again. The enemies were gone.
Only the seven heirs remained.
Silence hung.
Valen Solari turned sharply, his face unreadable. He said nothing, but the look in his eyes was not of disdain anymore.
It was concern.
Then he vanished in a flash of golden light, teleporting back to the Solari Citadel.
The others followed, one by one.
The Dominion Trial had ended but not through combat, not by rules.
It had ended because something greater had stepped in.
---
Later that night, Jareth stood alone atop Ashveil Fortress. The wind was colder than usual.
Ayaka approached quietly. "You okay?"
"No," he said. "She showed me a door. I don't know where it leads."
Sera joined them, arms crossed. "You were glowing. Not figuratively. Your core lit up like a beacon."
"I felt something break," he said.
Ayaka's eyes narrowed. "You think she's from the First Realm?"
"I don't know what she is," he replied. "But I know she's right."
Sera frowned. "About what?"
He looked up at the stars. "About the throne. I'm not fighting for it anymore."
Ayaka blinked. "What are you saying?"
"I'm going to take it."
---
Far across Earth Star, within the Solari Sanctum, Valen Solari knelt before a golden mirror. Behind the mirror sat a withered figure draped in sunlight robes. Eyes closed. Breathing shallow.
"Grandfather," Valen whispered. "It's him. The seed has awakened."
The old man opened one eye.
"So the Black bloodline survived," he rasped. "Then we cannot wait."
Valen bowed his head. "What are your orders?"
The old man smiled with dry lips.
"Kill him."