Eirian growled, clutching his throbbing skull. Pain lanced through his temples—sharp, relentless—as if his head might split open. He forced himself to sit cross-legged on the cold stone floor, drawing deep breaths.Focus. Cultivate.
Starflow energy swirled around him, thick as mist. His shredded robes fluttered as he began absorbing it, channeling the power through his battered body. Yet even as he meditated, unease prickled his spine. Why is Starflow so abundant here? This place reeked of deception.
Three hours passed. His consciousness sank deeper, his Emberflesh scales flickering like dying embers as energy surged through his meridians. Then—resistance. A wall, invisible yet immovable, blocked the flow. Gritting his teeth, Eirian gathered every shred of Starflow and *pushed*.
Crack.
The barrier shuddered. A spiderweb of light fissured across its surface before shattering entirely.
Power erupted through him—a tsunami of heat and light. His wounds knit together, flesh mending… all except his missing right hand, lost to the Veilborn hunger few days ago. The stump remained, a grim reminder.
Eirian exhaled, flexing his left hand. Soulspark Realm.
To test it, he unleashed a pulse of energy at the nearest wall. The stone exploded in a hail of rubble, dust clouding the air. His pulse quickened. This strength…But the thrill faded just as fast. Still a speck against the true powers of this world.
A darker thought surfaced: The lake of fire. I should be dead.
"You survived because the Trial of Flesh is complete."
The voice—sweet, melodic—drifted from behind him. Eirian whirled, blade flashing to his hand, but the ruins stood empty.
Laughter rang like wind chimes. "Oh, put that away. If I wished you harm, you'd already be screaming."
Eirian didn't lower his weapon. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where is this?"
Silence. Then—
A shadow detached from the crumbling pillars. Not a statue, not a ghost… but a woman. Her hair cascaded like liquid silver, her eyes twin pools of molten gold. She smiled, and the air itself trembled.
"Welcome," she said,"to the Trial of Memory. Here, your past will either drown you… or forge you anew."
Her fingers brushed his forehead—
and the world around Eirian shattered his vision blurred.
Eirian's vision blurred. His body collapsed onto the stone floor, lifeless, as his consciousness plunged into darkness.
The silver-haired woman gazed down at him, her golden eyes flickering with something akin to curiosity—and dread. "A power sleeps inside you," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the rustle of dead leaves.
"One that could unmake worlds with a flick of its wrist. And yet… you are its caged warden." She tilted her head, as if listening to a whisper only she could hear. "When it truly awakens, the universe itself will tremble, but for now you're too weak."
With a laugh like breaking glass, she vanished, leaving no trace but the echo of her words.
"The Trial of Memory is a spiritual crucible—its flames meant to forge his forgotten past into revelation."
THE TRIAL TAKES SHAPES
Eirian's eyes snapped open.
Sunlight. The scent of burning wood and roasted meat. The cacophony of village life—children shrieking, elders arguing, the rhythmic thud of axes splitting lumber.
He stood in the center of a rustic settlement, its thatched huts and dirt paths achingly familiar. Yet no one glanced his way. No one saw him.
The Trial of Memory, he realized, his gut tightening. *My body remains in the hall… this is my consciousness, trapped in… what? A vision?*
Five hours slipped by like sand through fingers. He observed silently:
- A blacksmith hammering glowing iron, sweat dripping into his beard.
- Two old women trading insults over a basket of wilted greens.
He also saw a pack of boys surrounded a shaking girl near the lake, their cruel laughter cutting through the air like knife.
"Little mouse," sneered the largest boy, kicking dust onto her frayed dress. "No one's coming to save you. Maybe we'll toss you in the lake—see if you scream as loud as your coward brother!"
The girl hunched smaller, tears cutting tracks through the dirt on her face.
Eirian's fists clenched—he couldn't do anything but, another figure shoved past him, through his intangible form.
A lanky boy, maybe fifteen, barefoot and clad in a patched brown jacket. He planted himself between the bullies and the girl, shoulders squared despite the way his knees shook.
"Leave her alone," he said, voice steadier than his hands. "Or I'll make sure the elders hear exactly how you stole Old Man Tren's sword last week."
The lead bully—a thick-necked brute with a missing front tooth—spat into the dirt.
"Alex. Always playing hero." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like snapping twigs. "Let's see how brave you are when we break your—"
*Teeth and hands.* Alex's mind finished the threat coldly. He wasn't afraid. Words were useless now.
"Talk's pointless," Alex said, rolling his shoulders. "Fight. Then we'll see who's strong."
From the group lurched a fat boy with yellowed teeth and curly, sweat-matted hair. His face was unremarkable—neither handsome nor ugly, just mean.
"Apologize now," he sneered, "or we'll teach you a lesson you'll choke on."
Alex didn't wait.
His left foot dug into the earth, and he moved—a burst of speed from trained leg technique. The air whistled past his ears as he closed the distance in a heartbeat. His fist snapped forward, a piston-strike to the fat boy's nose.
Crack.
Alex was already stepping back, his knuckles stinging, when the boy's scream split the air. "YOU DARE?!" The bully clutched his gushing nose, blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes burned with humiliation.
Then—Alex saw it.
A flicker of purple light in the bully's palm. The air warped as a swirling orb coalesced, reeking of rotting herbs and iron.
No—
The fat boy hurled it.
Alex twisted, but too late. The projectile orb smashed into his thigh, exploding in a cloud of violet smoke. Agony lanced through his leg like a thousand needles. He staggered, his vision swimming as the poison seeped into his veins.
"Blackroot poison?!" Alex choked, staring at the black blood now dripping from his lips. His heart hammered against ribs gone suddenly cold. "You idiot—do you even know what this does?!"
The fat boy grinned, wiping his bloody nose. "Yeah. It kills."
Around them, the other bullies backed away, their bravado crumbling into fear. Blackroot wasn't just poison—it was sacrilege. Banned in every village from here to the capital.
Eirian observed everything through his ghostly form, powerless to intervene. He knew these were illusions—fabricated shadows of the Trial—yet that knowledge didn't dull the acid bite of frustration in his throat.
Alex's knees hit the dirt. His muscles locked; his breath came in ragged gasps. Somewhere distant, the little girl sobbed.
Not like this, he thought, fingers clawing at the earth. Not for nothing.
The fat boy's laughter rang out, sharp and jagged, as the group of bullies backed away in fear. Alex coughed—a wet, shuddering sound—black blood spattering the dirt. The poison slithered deeper, devouring his organs one by one.
Is this the end?* The thought coiled in Alex's mind, thick with grief and fury. After all my training… to die in a damned village brawl?*
Eirian watched, his ghostly form trembling with impotent rage. Illusions, he reminded himself. None of this is real.
But the girl's sobs, the metallic stench of blood—they felt too vivid. His spectral fingers passed harmlessly through a nearby rock as he instinctively tried to grab a weapon.
Then—movement.
The little girl, her face still streaked with tears, stepped forward. Her tiny hands clenched into fists, fear dissolving into something fiercer. "B-Brother… are you alright?" Her voice was a fragile thread of sound as she placed her palm on Alex's shoulder.
Eirian's breath caught. She can't possibly—
"Don't worry," the girl whispered. **"Iris will save you."
With trembling fingers, she pulled a vial from her pocket. Violet glass, swirling with what looked like liquid flame. The moment it touched the air, the ground beneath them hummed, pebbles vibrating as if in reverence.
"Grandma gave me this before she passed away," Iris murmured, cradling the vial like a sacred relic. "Said it could mend broken stars…"
Alex lifted his head, his skin gray as ash. "N-No, I can't—" Another cough ripped through him, black droplets spraying onto Iris's dress.
She didn't flinch.
In one swift motion, she uncorked the vial and pressed it to Alex's lips. The liquid poured into his mouth—not burning, but singing, a chorus of embers and starlight.
Eirian staggered back as the energy hit him like a shockwave. "That's no ordinary medicine." His phantom bones ached with the residue of its power.
Across the clearing, Alex's body arched off the ground, veins glowing gold under his skin. The blackroot poison hissed as it evaporated from his pores, leaving behind the scent of sun-warmed herbs.
"H-How?" Alex gasped, staring at his now-unmarked hands. "This is impossible!"
Iris merely smiled, tucking the empty vial away. "Grandma knew things."
Eirian's mind raced. That power… it felt like the phoenix mark on my own forehead. Was this trial showing him a memory—or a prophecy?
A darker question burned: What connection binds this girl to my phoenix mark?
The fat boy's laughter had died. His remaining tooth chattered as he stumbled back. "Witchcraft! S-She's a—
"Run,"Alex said softly, rising to his feet. His eyes, now flecked with amber light, locked onto the bullies. "Before I forget mercy."