The gates of the Labyrinth of Ember yawned before the seven heirs like the mouth of some ancient, waiting beast. Stone carved with glowing sigils pulsed faintly in the cold air, whispering promises of pain and power to those daring enough to enter.
"This dungeon tests not just strength, but mind and spirit," Lord Alden's voice boomed from the high platform where he watched. "Every wrong step drains your aura. Every hesitation is a trap. Fail, and you leave not as a heir, but as shadow in the family's story."
The heirs lined up, each a living spark of blood and aura.
Lucien Savoy, seventeen, stood at the front. His jet-black hair swept back like a dark flame, steel-gray eyes glinting with red fire. Already he analyzed the sigils, already calculating each step. He moved with the grace of a born commander, aura compressing like iron around him.
Selina Savoy, sixteen, twirled a small dagger in her hand, rose-red aura streaking across the floor as if it anticipated her moves. Her auburn hair tied high, ruby eyes flashing confidence, she almost laughed at the prospect of an obstacle — her steps measured, precise, elegant.
Ronan Savoy, eighteen, deep orange aura sparking around his fists, cracked his neck and laughed. "Finally, some action worth my strength." His burnt-brown hair spiked as he strode forward, gauntlets clinking, ready to smash anything in his path.
Cira Savoy, fifteen, exuded calm. Cyan aura threads danced lightly from her fingertips, her silver-white hair brushing her shoulders. She closed her pale blue eyes, sensing the labyrinth's shifting aura flows before stepping inside.
Varen Savoy, fourteen, bounced impatiently. Violet energy sparked across his form, spilling in short bursts. "Another boring puzzle?" he muttered, already jittering with restless energy.
Aren Savoy, nineteen, stood stoic, bronze-gold aura calm and heavy. He observed quietly, calculating, each movement economical, measured a sentinel ready to endure.
At the rear, Kian Savoy adjusted the sleeve of his simple white-and-teal robe. Twelve, smaller than most, but his teal-blue aura flowed around him, subtle and adaptive. He had learned to read and mimic, to sense and flow. That would be his advantage.
---
The dungeon swallowed them.
Corridors twisted and shifted, walls that breathed as if alive. Torches flared with blue fire along the ceilings, revealing glyphs carved into the stone.
From nowhere, the first obstacle appeared: swinging blades etched with aura-draining runes. One wrong step, and the heavy strikes would siphon energy before any combat began.
Ronan charged first, fists flaring in orange. Each swing of his arms crushed phantom blocks of stone, but one blade clipped his shoulder, aura sparking erratically.
Selina danced through the corridor, dodging blades with near-artistic precision. Each step left a faint red trail in the air a blur of motion and control.
Lucien's aura compressed around him, creating a shielded path. He moved calculatedly, each footfall measured, every breath conserving energy.
Kian's eyes flicked over the patterns etched into the floor. Faint teal streaks traced the rhythm of the swinging blades — subtle, almost invisible. Smiling slightly, he mirrored the pattern with his own steps, letting the blades pass harmlessly overhead.
---
Deeper in, the labyrinth tested combat calculation. Illusionary opponents materialized perfect copies of the heirs themselves, each mimicking their aura, their speed, their combat style.
Lucien crushed the duplicates with focused aura pressure, each strike efficient and overwhelming. Selina sliced through illusions in blinding arcs, leaving afterimages that spun the eye.
Cira, serene as a still lake, let thin cyan threads slice, bind, and redirect the phantasms without touching them. She was calm, almost untouchable.
Varen, hot-headed, lashed out in bursts, aura erratic, and fell into a trap. Sparks flew as a glyph drained his energy he cursed, muttering about unfair rules.
Aren advanced steadily, methodically dismantling illusions, his bronze-gold aura acting like a living hammer against obstacles.
Ronan smashed everything — walls, illusions, hazards — clearing paths but leaving chaos behind, forcing the others to navigate his wreckage.
Kian observed quietly. Each illusion mirrored the heir it copied, but he saw a pattern in their repetitions. Small openings in timing, subtle weaknesses. Using his adaptive aura flow, he dodged, parried, and stepped lightly, drawing illusions toward a hidden lever etched into the dungeon wall.
With a final teal-blue pulse, the trap deactivated. The room cleared in a single, fluid motion — Kian had succeeded without brute force, without flashy attacks, only with perception, timing, and instinct.
---
Exiting the final chamber, the heirs gathered outside, dust settling and torches flickering.
Lord Alden stood at the entrance, arms crossed, eyes sharp. His silver gaze swept over the group.
"Calculation, precision, and will a Savoy's mind is as vital as their arm. Observe: power alone is meaningless if it is untested by reason."
The heirs exchanged glances. Lucien's jaw tightened he had underestimated the boy from the branch estate. Selina's eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Ronan gritted his teeth, unaccustomed to being outmaneuvered. Cira's pale gaze lingered on Kian for a fraction of a second — acknowledgment, subtle but real.
Varen scowled, muttering, but the twitch in his aura betrayed surprise. Aren nodded quietly, recognizing Kian's talent, though he said nothing.
---
That night, Kian stood alone on the balcony of Shadewatch Fortress, wind ripping at his robe. Below, the labyrinth lay silent, but deep within its walls, faint pulses of aura flickered — echoes of challenges overcome and dangers yet unseen.
His teal aura shimmered faintly, reflecting off the black stone of the fortress.
"Strength isn't just power," he whispered, watching the mist curl around the peaks. "It's seeing the path no one else can… and walking it anyway."
Somewhere in the shadows, the curse stirred, sensing his resolve. History might try to forget him, but Kian's flame had already begun to burn.
Meanwhile, in the Patriarch's Tower, Lord Alden stood by the large window, the moonlight casting his silver eyes into sharp relief. Beside him, Tiren, his closest advisor and master of internal family affairs, studied a floating display of aura readings captured from the labyrinth.
so the first trial has concluded," Tiren said, voice calm but laced with curiosity. "The main heirs performed as expected. Lucien and Aren displayed impeccable control. Selina's speed was near flawless. Ronan… as usual, relied too heavily on raw force."
Lord Alden nodded slowly, hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial blade.
"tell me what do you think of Kian the branch boy?
Tiren's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
"Kian. He did not show the most raw power, nor did he impress with flashy techniques. Yet… he finished efficiently, avoiding traps the others could not. His adaptive aura flow is… unusual. He reads patterns instinctively, like he can see through the labyrinth before it even shifts."
Alden's gaze sharpened.
"yes a branch child with such perception… It is rare. Perhaps the curse, the family's fading shadow, has not yet dulled him."
Tiren inclined his head.
Indeed, my lord. If he continues to grow, he could become a formidable heir. But he is still young. Others will seek to challenge his ingenuity and he may not be ready for their ambition."
Lord Alden's eyes narrowed, reflecting both foresight and caution.
"Let him sleep tonight. Tomorrow, the trials will grow harsher. This boy has potential… and potential must be tested."
The two figures fell silent, the moonlight drifting across the high towers. Somewhere below, the first embers of a legend began to ignite.