The First Clash
The dawn came blood-red.
The ravine roared with horns as Varros's army surged like a tide of black steel, their banners a mockery of light. Thousands strong, they moved with the hunger of wolves, the ground trembling beneath their charge.
Aelion's soldiers locked shields, their breaths clouding in the cold morning. The prince rode forward, golden armor aflame with dawn's first light, Kaelen at his side.
The clash was thunder. Steel screamed against steel, arrows blackened the sky. Men fell in heaps, the earth drinking deeply. Kaelen cut down foe after foe, his blade moving with desperate precision, his only thought: Protect him.
Aelion's voice rose above the chaos, carrying like a clarion. "Hold the line! By our oath, by our blood, no darkness shall break us!"
But then—the sky itself broke.
The Trial Descends
From the heavens, a light speared downward, searing through clouds. It struck the battlefield with the force of a mountain. Soldiers of both sides stumbled, blinded, as the world was swallowed in radiance.
When the light cleared, the battlefield was transformed.
The dead did not lie still—they rose. Shadows spilled from their mouths, eyes burning with divine fire. The gods had twisted the fallen into vessels of trial, neither alive nor truly dead.
The messenger's voice rolled across the plains:
"Prince Aelion, Guardian Kaelen. You are judged. Prove your bond, or be unmade."
The armies froze, terror clutching their throats. Even Varros's men shrank back, their war forgotten in the face of heaven's wrath.
The Trial of Blades
The dead surged, a tide of star-lit corpses. Kaelen pulled Aelion behind him, blades flashing, carving through divine horror. Yet for every one struck down, two more rose.
"They're endless!" Kaelen spat, blood in his teeth.
"They test us, not them," Aelion gasped, realization sparking. "The gods care nothing for Varros's war—this is for us."
Kaelen's sword arm ached, his body screaming. Still, he stood unbroken, his vow burning through his veins. "Then let them see what they cannot break."
Together, they fought back to back. Every strike became a prayer of defiance. Every wound bled with devotion.
The Trial of Stars
The ground split, stars falling like burning rain. One struck near Aelion, knocking him to his knees. A shadowed hand clawed for him—only for Kaelen to intercept, blade shattering against divine bone.
Aelion's heart cracked as Kaelen staggered, blood streaming. "No!"
He caught Kaelen as he fell, their foreheads pressed together amidst ruin. The gods' voice boomed above, cold and merciless:
"One flame must consume the other. Choose."
Aelion trembled, his tears mixing with ash. "No. I will not choose. If you demand sacrifice, then take me whole—but leave him untouched."
Kaelen's weak smile broke through pain. "And if they take you, they take me. We are bound, Aelion. In life, in death. Always."
For the first time, the divine voice faltered, its echo less certain.
The battlefield stilled. The risen dead froze mid-strike, eyes flickering. The trial had not ended—but something had shifted.
The Aftermath
The armies stared, Varros among them, his face pale with disbelief at the gods themselves descending. The trial's radiance burned into every soldier's soul—proof that Aelion and Kaelen's bond was not of mortals alone.
But as the dead dissolved into starlight, the messenger's voice whispered one final warning:
"You defy the heavens. But defiance has a cost. Every step you take now echoes in eternity."
Then silence. Only the smoke of war remained.
Aelion cradled Kaelen close, blood staining his hands. He whispered, voice trembling but firm, "Then let eternity hear us—we walk it together."
And above them, the stars burned brighter, as if watching.