The chamber was silent as Aethren stood there, the echoes of his confrontation with the Mirror of Truth still ringing in his ears. His mind buzzed with the weight of what he had just learned. The fears, regrets, and desires that had haunted him for so long had been laid bare. But, instead of crushing him, the trial had given him clarity—a chance to embrace his flaws, not as weaknesses, but as parts of his growth.
“You have passed the Trial of the Soul,” the Warden leader’s voice resonated in the air, gentle yet authoritative. “But there is one final test remaining. The Trial of the Shard.”
Aethren’s heart skipped a beat at the words. The shard, the source of so much of his pain and power, pulsed within his chest, its warmth like a steady heartbeat. He had already endured the trials of body and soul, but now he would face the trial of the very thing that had guided him thus far.
The leader stepped forward, her ember-like eyes locking with his. “The shard is not a tool, Aethren. It is a force of its own. A power that cannot be controlled unless you learn to control yourself. In this final trial, you must decide what role you will play in the world beyond this temple. The shard will show you two paths. Choose wisely, for one path will lead to great destruction, while the other offers a chance for redemption.”
Aethren’s mind raced. Destruction... redemption... He had already seen the consequences of his power when it had surged out of control in the Wastes. The shard had nearly consumed him there. Would he make the same mistake again?
The Warden leader extended a hand, and the ground beneath Aethren’s feet shifted. Before him, a massive portal began to open, swirling with an eerie energy that seemed to bend and twist the very fabric of reality. Within the portal, he could see two visions, each more vivid than the last.
----------------------------------------
The First Vision:
The first vision was one of conquest. Aethren stood at the helm of a vast army, his hand raised high as a legion of shadowed warriors bowed before him. His eyes glowed with the same intense light as the shard, and the very air around him crackled with raw power. The world before him lay in ruins, cities burning, kingdoms crumbling, but he was unbothered.
Power. Control. The world had never been more at his feet.
But in his hand, the shard pulsed erratically, its light flickering between white-hot brilliance and a dangerous, consuming darkness. As Aethren gazed out over the scorched landscape, a gnawing emptiness began to creep into his chest. The faces of those who had perished in the wake of his rise—the innocent, the powerless—lingered in his mind’s eye.
No matter how much he conquered, no matter how much he claimed, the void within him only grew.
The weight of his own power crushed him, and he realized, too late, that it had always been the power itself that had corrupted him. It had fed his desires, amplified his hatred, until there was nothing left of the person he once was.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
----------------------------------------
The Second Vision:
The second vision was more peaceful, though it came with its own brand of sorrow. Aethren stood at the edge of a quiet village, the sun setting behind him. The land was fertile, the air clean and crisp. Children ran through the fields, their laughter echoing on the wind. People—those same people he had once failed—gathered together, sharing food and stories.
In this vision, Aethren was no longer the figure of power. Instead, he was a protector, a guardian who had set aside his personal desires to help those around him. The shard in his chest glowed faintly, no longer burning with the same intensity. It had become a part of him, not the force that controlled him.
He was surrounded by those he loved, those who had once been strangers. And though he could feel the weight of his past—his failures, his darkness—he had learned to embrace it. He had learned to walk forward, not by crushing others beneath his feet, but by lifting them up. His power was not used for domination, but for healing.
But even as he walked this path, he knew that redemption would never be easy. The scars of his past would follow him, and the road to healing would be long and fraught with challenges. He would never escape the consequences of his choices, but he could at least strive to make amends.
----------------------------------------
Aethren stood frozen, caught between the two visions. The portal pulsed with energy, the images swirling as if it were trying to force a decision. His mind raced—what was the right choice? Could he really walk away from the power the shard offered? Or was he doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past?
“What is it that you truly want?” the Warden leader’s voice rang out, clear and sharp. “The path of destruction offers you limitless power, but it will consume everything you touch. The path of redemption offers peace, but it will demand more of you than you could ever imagine.”
Aethren’s hand clenched around the shard, its heat searing through his chest. He could feel the temptation of the first vision—the allure of power, of conquest, of being above all others. But he had seen where that path led. It led to emptiness, to the destruction of everything he had ever cared about.
The second vision was not without its challenges, either. Redemption was a long, hard road, and there would be no easy victories. The guilt of his past would never fade, and his journey would be one of constant struggle. But in that path, he saw the chance to build something greater than himself—to protect, to heal, to become the person he had always wanted to be, not in spite of his flaws, but because of them.
----------------------------------------
Aethren’s breath caught in his throat as he made his choice.
He stepped toward the second vision, toward redemption.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold of the portal, the shard within his chest pulsed with a brilliant light, then dimmed. The fiery energy that had burned so intensely within him began to settle, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt calm. At peace.
The Warden leader’s eyes softened as she watched him. “You have chosen wisely, Aethren,” she said, her voice filled with approval. “The shard’s power is no longer a burden—it is a part of you. But remember, it is only as strong as the heart that wields it. Use it wisely.”
Aethren nodded, his chest swelling with a mix of relief and resolve. He had chosen a difficult path, but it was his path, and he would walk it with purpose. The road ahead would not be easy, but it was the only one that felt right.
“I will,” he whispered. “I will use it wisely.”
The portal closed behind him, and the final trial was over.