Ren’s boots scraped against the cold stone steps as he descended the spiral staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air thickening with an unseen weight. Linsia followed close behind, her hand brushing the wall for balance. Shadows shifted along the rough-hewn walls, cast by the faint light of the torches above.
When they reached the bottom, Ren froze. The chamber sprawled before them, lit dimly by a pale, sourceless glow. In its center, a black crystal sat cradled in a nest of twisting metallic veins that jutted from the ground like the roots of some ancient tree. The crystal’s surface pulsed faintly, as if it breathed, and dark streaks churned within its depths. Ren blinked, but the motion persisted. He couldn’t tell if it was real or his mind playing tricks.
The hermit stood before the crystal, his arms crossed, his face carved into a scowl. He looked even more weathered under the chamber’s eerie light, his eyes sunken, his presence oppressive.
“This,” he said, his voice low and firm, “is the Crystal of Dark Truths.”
Ren’s stomach tightened. The crystal’s aura pressed against him, not physically, but inside his thoughts. It slithered into the corners of his mind, pulling at buried fears and whispers of doubt. He felt as though it saw him, deeper than anyone ever had. He stepped closer despite the urge to turn back.
“What’s it doing to us?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
“It hasn’t even begun,” the hermit said. “This is nothing but a taste.”
Linsia moved beside Ren, her gaze locked on the crystal. She rubbed her arms as if shaking off a chill. “What is this trial, exactly?” she asked.
The hermit turned to face them fully, his eyes sharp. “The trial will test your strength of character and harmony. The qualities you’ll need if you want any chance of wielding the Crystal of Will.” He gestured toward the black crystal. “This artifact is its opposite—a thing of pure malice and deceit. It thrives on weakness. If you aren’t ready, it will devour you.”
Ren stiffened, the weight of the words sinking in. “And if we fail?”
The hermit’s mouth curled into a grim line. “Then one of you will kill the other.”
“What?” Linsia’s voice rose. “That’s insane. What kind of trial—”
“This is your last chance to leave,” the hermit said, his tone cutting through her protests. “Turn back now, and you’ll walk out with your lives. But if you stay, you’ll face demons—your worst demons. They’ll take forms you can’t fight with power alone. And if one of you breaks under the crystal’s hold, they’ll turn on the other.”
Ren glanced at Linsia. She met his gaze, her jaw set, her eyes hard. He knew she wouldn’t back down. He wasn’t sure he could either, not now.
“We’ll stay,” Ren said, his voice steadier than he felt.
The hermit studied them, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the crystal. “Place your hands on it when you’re ready.”
Ren’s heart pounded as he stepped forward, the air tightening around him with every step. Linsia followed, her shoulders square but her breath uneven. Together, they reached out, their fingers brushing against the crystal’s cold, thrumming surface.
The chamber vanished, swallowed by the crystal’s darkness.
----------------------------------------
Ren felt the air grow heavier as the chamber split before him. One moment, he was walking beside Linsia; the next, a jagged seam of shadow carved through the ground, separating them. His breath hitched. The walls shifted, stone grinding against stone, and a sheer darkness swallowed her figure.
“Linsia!” Ren shouted, stepping forward, but the space before him stretched unnaturally. Her voice didn’t answer. Only silence.
The oppressive aura of the black crystal pressed harder against his senses, like an invisible hand clawing at his thoughts. His skin prickled, and unease burrowed deep into his chest. He looked back toward the crystal. It loomed as if it were watching him, its surface rippling faintly, like ink disturbed by an unseen breath.
A voice echoed—not with sound, but within. It felt like a whisper crawling through his skull, unbidden and unkind: Face it. You cannot run.
The chamber shifted again, its walls folding into a corridor that twisted downward. The air thickened, damp with a cold that made Ren’s breath hang in front of him. He hesitated, fingers brushing the hilt of his blade. No point in drawing it—not against whatever lay ahead. With a steadying breath, he stepped forward, the corridor closing behind him.
The first memory struck him like a physical blow.
The sky above was fractured, deep cracks of light breaking through a gray haze. Around him, chaos reigned—the ruins of his home village sprawled in ruin, flames licking at the remnants of what once was. Screams echoed in the distance, faint and fading. Ren stumbled forward, his boots crunching against charred soil.
Azelia stood there, untouched by the destruction, her figure shimmering like a mirage. She turned to him, her gaze piercing. “Why didn’t you save me?”
Ren froze, his heart pounding in his chest. “Azelia…” His voice cracked.
“You promised,” she said, her tone sharp, yet broken. Her eyes glistened with tears, but they held no warmth. “You said you’d protect me.”
The ground beneath him trembled. Shadows spilled forth, pooling into grotesque forms that twisted and writhed. They snarled, voices a chorus of his failures: Weak. Coward. You let her die.
“I—” His throat tightened. He gripped his blade, but his hands shook. “I tried. I didn’t mean for—”
Azelia stepped closer, her expression hardening. “You didn’t try hard enough.”
The shadows lunged, and Ren swung his blade instinctively. It cut through the air, meeting resistance that felt both solid and intangible. The force of their impact rattled through his arms, and he staggered. The whispers grew louder, filling his head until he could barely think.
“Stop it!” Ren shouted, his voice raw. “It wasn’t my fault!”
The words tasted like a lie, even to himself.
Another memory unfolded. He was back in the ruins, the moment just before everything had gone wrong. Aiden and Azelia stood beside him, their laughter echoing softly as they examined the glyphs on the walls. Ren’s younger self, full of bravado, had pressed them onward despite their unease.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ren,” Aiden’s voice called out, not from the memory, but here and now. He spun around to see his old friend standing there, half-swallowed by the darkness. Aiden’s face was pale, haunted. “You told me we’d find something great. Something worth it. Was it worth her life?”
“No,” Ren whispered. The weight of the word pressed down on him, nearly buckling his knees.
Aiden’s figure dissolved, the shadows reclaiming him. The corridor stretched onward again, offering no reprieve.
The final trial came in silence. The room at the end of the path was empty, save for a single mirror. Ren’s reflection stared back at him, though it wasn’t truly him. The man in the mirror bore crimson eyes that burned with unchecked power, his expression twisted with rage and despair. The ground beneath his feet was littered with the bodies of those he’d failed to protect.
“You think you can save anyone?” the reflection said, its voice cold and sharp. “You’ll destroy them. Just like you destroyed her.”
Ren’s hand hovered over his blade. He hesitated. His fingers twitched, the weight of his guilt threatening to pull him under.
But then, a flicker of clarity cut through the storm in his mind. He straightened, meeting the reflection’s gaze. “I may fail again,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But I’ll keep trying. That’s all I can do.”
The reflection sneered, then shattered, the sound piercing and final. The room dissolved into light, and Ren felt the suffocating aura lift.
He stood alone, the silence vast and unyielding. But this time, it didn’t crush him. He took a step forward, unsure of what awaited, but ready to face it.
----------------------------------------
Linsia’s breath caught as the darkness unraveled around her. The air shifted, heavy with damp earth and the faint musk of pine. Light broke through the veil—a soft, golden hue that painted the contours of a mountain village. It wasn’t just any village. This was home.
Her home.
The scent of burning juniper reached her, and she stumbled forward, her boots crunching on familiar gravel paths. Voices called out, faint at first, then sharper, slicing through the tranquil air.
“Linsia!”
The name carried warmth and sorrow, drawing her toward the cluster of wooden houses. She rounded a corner, the sight ahead halting her breath. A circle of villagers stood waiting, their faces pale and weary. The elder, with her silver braids and lined eyes, stepped forward, gripping her staff as though it held her upright.
“You failed us.” The words struck with the weight of stone.
Linsia’s legs locked. “No—I didn’t—”
“You didn’t use your gift,” another voice said, a young woman clutching a crying child. “You could’ve stopped them!”
The memory returned in a wave, sharper now: the chaos, the screaming, the glint of the Worm Emperor’s soldiers marching into the village. The deer Kaijura had begged for her to use its essence, its power, but her resolve had crumbled beneath the weight of her convictions. She had let it live—and her village had burned for it.
The villagers parted, revealing the deer Kaijura itself. Its towering antlers gleamed like silver threads against the twilight. Its amber eyes met hers, calm yet piercing. It stepped forward, its movements unearthly in their grace.
“Take it now,” the elder commanded.
Linsia recoiled. “I can’t.”
“You couldn’t then. You saw what happened. The lives lost. What is your excuse now?”
She shook her head, the pressure behind her eyes building. The Kaijura dipped its head, as though offering itself willingly. Her fingers trembled, instinctively rising toward the glow of its essence. A warmth radiated from it, brushing against her skin like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Her heart twisted.
The village flickered. The houses blurred, collapsing into ash before her eyes. The villagers’ faces twisted, their voices rising in a cacophony of accusation.
“You let us die!”
“Monster!”
“Coward!”
The words sank into her like barbed wire, tearing at old wounds. She fell to her knees, hands clutching the ground, her breath uneven.
The Deer Kaijura remained. Its eyes, unwavering, seemed to speak without words.
Do what must be done.
The accusations faded, replaced by silence so heavy it pressed on her chest. The Kaijura’s glow pulsed, brighter now, consuming the void. Linsia clenched her fists, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“I won’t kill you,” she said finally, the words raw.
The Kaijura inclined its head. Then the vision shifted.
The village rebuilt itself, house by house, as though time rewound. The people’s faces softened, their accusing stares melting into quiet acceptance.
A voice rose, soft yet firm, echoing in her mind.
Your power is not destruction. It is choice.
The deer Kaijura stepped back, fading into the golden light. Linsia remained on the ground, her hands trembling. She exhaled slowly, the weight on her chest lifting, if only slightly.
When the darkness claimed her again, she was ready.
----------------------------------------
The darkness pulsed around Ren and Linsia like a living thing, swallowing even the faintest glimmer of light from the Dark Crystal. The massive shard loomed before them, jagged and cold, its surface reflecting fractured images of their faces. A low growl rumbled from the void, sending vibrations through the blackened ground beneath their feet. The air was thick, suffocating, and tasted of iron.
Ren flexed his hands, feeling the familiar surge of heat crawling under his skin. Crimson lines of energy lit his arms, pushing back the darkness with a dull red glow. He glanced at Linsia, her shoulders rigid and her breathing sharp. She stood still, the faint shimmer of Kaijura essence flickering around her fingers, like threads waiting to be spun into something greater.
“We face this together,” Ren said, his voice steady.
Linsia nodded. “No running. Not this time.”
The growl erupted into a deafening roar. From the void emerged the demon—a monstrous amalgamation of their fears. It bore the shape of a warped knight clad in fragmented armor that oozed with shadows. One arm twisted into a blackened claw, the other wielded a jagged blade dripping with venom. Its face was a hollow mask, split down the middle, one side etched with Ren’s doubts and the other with Linsia’s guilt. Its form shifted with each step, becoming more grotesque, its outline flickering like a failing memory.
Ren darted forward, crimson energy flaring with each movement. His fist connected with the demon’s chest, the impact sending shockwaves that made the ground tremble. The beast staggered but swung its claw in a wide arc. Ren ducked, rolling to the side as the claw carved a trench through the ground. He rose to his feet, panting, his muscles burning from the strain of his Crimson Will.
Linsia closed her eyes and steadied her breath. The air around her shifted as the deer Kaijura appeared, its form luminous and graceful. It bowed its head, offering its essence once more. Linsia hesitated for only a moment before reaching out. The energy surged into her, filling her veins with a cold clarity. Her limbs felt lighter, her senses sharper.
She stepped forward, her movements swift and precise, and struck the demon’s leg with an emerald blade in the shape of an antler. The beast howled, its balance faltering as it swung its blade toward her. She leaped back, landing beside Ren.
“You’re faster now,” Ren said, glancing at her. “We can use that.”
“And you hit like a meteor,” Linsia said. “Let’s end this.”
The demon roared, charging at them with terrifying speed. Ren surged forward to meet it head-on, his fists glowing brighter. Each strike of his hit like thunder, forcing the beast back step by step. Linsia danced around the edges, slashing at its limbs and blocking its blade. Together, they moved as one, their attacks coordinated, their movements a seamless blend of strength and agility.
The demon’s form flickered, cracks spreading across its surface. It swung wildly, its strikes growing desperate. Linsia slid under a sweeping blow, her blade slicing through the tendons in its leg. The beast stumbled. Ren leaped, his energy-fueled kick slamming into its chest and sending it crashing to the ground.
The Dark Crystal began to hum, its surface glowing faintly. The demon writhed, its form collapsing into shadows. Ren and Linsia stood over it, their breaths heavy, their bodies aching but unyielding.
“It’s not enough to fight,” Linsia said, staring at the dissolving creature. “We have to accept what it is. What we are.”
Ren reached out, his hand brushing the surface of the crystal. It pulsed under his touch. “Together,” he said.
Linsia placed her hand beside his. The oppressive void faded, replaced by the faint warmth of dawn. The trial was over.