The fractured sky above shimmered like molten metal, stars streaking in patterns that made my head spin. The ground beneath me wasn't solid earth, but a lattice of glowing stone, suspended over a chasm that seemed endless. Every step I took sent ripples across the surface, as if the realm itself were testing me. I gripped the crystal tightly, feeling its heartbeat merge with my own, guiding me forward.
I had only one thought: the first god awaited. The air carried a scent of sulfur and iron, and in the distance, I saw it—mountains wreathed in fire, rivers of molten rock flowing like blood across blackened plains. This was no ordinary realm; this was a crucible forged by the god of war himself.
And then he appeared.
Thyrrion descended from the sky like a falling star. His body was wreathed in flames that did not burn the air around him, yet their heat made the stone beneath me hiss and crack. His eyes were pits of fire, deep and endless, and his voice shook the realm as he spoke.
"Mortal."
I dropped to one knee instinctively. I had been warned by Aelira that gods were not to be underestimated, yet nothing could prepare me for this presence. "I am Eryndor, bearer of the Shattered Sky. I come by the will of the Watchers."
Thyrrion laughed, a sound like a volcano cracking the earth. "The Watchers? Their whim cannot save you here. This is my domain, child of dust and light. To enter it is to invite death."
He raised a hand, and fire erupted from the mountains like a tidal wave. I barely had time to raise the crystal, summoning a shield of light that warped reality around me, deflecting the molten wave. The heat singed my skin, and yet, it was not pain I felt—it was understanding: the first trial had begun.
"Survive," the crystal whispered. "Learn."
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. The Shattered Sky pulsed inside me, responding to my fear, my courage, my will. I had to do more than defend; I had to act. I let the light extend from the crystal, shaping it into walls, bridges, and spears. The realm bent to my intent, though only slightly, like a child tugging at the hem of a god's robe.
Thyrrion circled me, moving impossibly fast, flames trailing his every motion. "Mortals are fragile. You are fragile. But perhaps… you can surprise me."
He struck again, hurling fire not as a wave, but as living shards, each one seeking to pierce not my flesh, but my mind. I ducked, rolled, and countered with shards of light, each clash producing sparks that painted the air in gold and red. I realized then: this trial was not merely of strength. It was of strategy, of courage, of knowing what I would risk to survive.
And I understood something more dangerous still: Thyrrion wanted me to choose.
"I could destroy you," he said, hovering above me like a god made of inferno. "Or I could teach you. But first… choose. Will you fight for yourself, or for the lives that depend on you beyond this realm?"
I hesitated. The Shattered Sky pulsed violently inside me. The crystal wanted power—it wanted dominance, to bend the world to my will. But my mind flashed to Thalir, to my sister's face, to the villagers who had watched me disappear. Could I fight only for myself? Could I accept divine power while ignoring those I had left behind?
I whispered, "For them."
The words ignited something inside the crystal, and a surge of energy expanded outward. Flames recoiled, rivers of fire froze mid-flow, and the molten mountains shivered. Thyrrion's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw interest—perhaps even respect—in the god's gaze.
"Bold," he said, voice like thunder and flame. "Few mortals choose selflessness when faced with my trial. Very well."
Then, he extended a hand, not in attack, but in gesture. A small fragment of fire, contained and controlled, floated above his palm. "This is yours, if you can endure it. The Flame of Thyrrion. It will not burn your body, but it will reveal your true spirit. Endure it, and you gain power beyond mortal reckoning. Fail, and it consumes you."
I hesitated only a moment. The crystal pulsed in warning, urging caution. But I stepped forward, placing my hand over the flame. The heat was nothing like fire; it was understanding, memory, rage, and sorrow all at once. I felt my fears, my failures, my weaknesses laid bare. The voices of the Watchers whispered through me: "Endure. Learn. Become."
Hours—or was it moments?—passed. I do not know. Time was fractured here. I felt my body stretch, my mind expand, and my soul tremble. And then the flame withdrew, leaving a small ember floating in my palm, warm, alive, and full of potential.
Thyrrion nodded once. "You endure. You are not ready to challenge me as an equal, but you are ready to walk the path of the Bridge. Take this, mortal. Let it remind you: gods may be infinite, but courage and wisdom are infinite within those who dare to embrace them."
And then he vanished, leaving me alone with the glowing ember and the Shattered Sky crystal. The realm shifted again, the fiery mountains dissolving into starlight, revealing a path forward—a path that would lead to the next god, the next trial, and the next fragment of divinity I would have to claim.
I knelt in the starlight, exhausted but unbroken. The weight of the crystal pressed against my chest, yet I felt stronger. The Shattered Sky had chosen me, and I had survived my first trial. But I knew this: survival was only the beginning.
Somewhere ahead, gods waited. And each would demand more than I had yet imagined—more than a mortal should be able to endure.
But I was no longer merely mortal.
I was Eryndor. Bearer of the Shattered Sky. Bridge between realms. And the age of gods had begun.