The Council chamber doors closed behind me with a deep, resonating boom. The massive gears lining the walls spun silently, their rhythmic motion creating a strangely hypnotic effect. Ahead, a crystal platform emerged from the polished floor, floating quietly. The masked figures of the Council looked down from their high seats, silent and unreadable.
I stepped onto the platform, feeling its cool surface beneath my boots. Immediately, a hum resonated through my body, causing the Mark across my chest and arm to pulse gently. Golden threads shimmered brighter, responding to the unseen energy of the chamber.
The serpent-masked councilor leaned forward slightly, his voice like silk woven with steel.
"You stand upon the Gate of Reflections, Sylas Caelum. This first trial, the Trial of Truth, shall strip away all illusions. You must confront who you truly are. Only then can you master the Crown, or realize it was never yours to bear."
I steadied my breath. "I'm ready."
The Councilor nodded, and the crystal beneath my feet surged with light. The world around me shattered like glass, fragments cascading away until I stood in absolute darkness.
The Mirror of Self
The darkness lingered briefly, then was pierced by a pinpoint of soft, pale light. It grew swiftly, forming into a polished mirror hovering silently before me. Its surface rippled, and I watched my reflection shift, changing from who I was now, to who I had been in countless past lives.
A conqueror stood tall, armored in cruel black steel. His gaze was merciless, unyielding. Beside him, a desperate man knelt, eyes hollow, begging for forgiveness. A ruler sat coldly upon a throne built from bones and lies. All were versions of myself that had chosen wrongly, or lost themselves entirely.
"You've walked many paths," a voice spoke softly from the darkness. "All leading here."
I turned to find another figure standing quietly, his features shrouded by shadow, but his eyes burned like molten gold—piercing, ancient, familiar.
"You're the first bearer of the Crown," I realized aloud. "Valec."
He inclined his head slightly. "Yes. The first, and the most tragic. Every Crown Bearer is given this same trial, and each believes themselves capable of overcoming what the Crown truly is."
"And what is it?" I asked.
"A truth you must discover yourself," Valec replied. "Touch the mirror and see what you fear to know."
I hesitated only a moment, then placed my palm against the cold glass.
The mirror rippled violently, and I was no longer in the darkness.
A World of Ash
I stood at the crest of a hill overlooking a vast, desolate plain. The land was charred and lifeless, scarred by endless battle. Corpses of warriors and civilians alike littered the ground, their faces contorted in final agony.
"No…" I whispered, horror clenching my chest.
"Yes," Valec's voice echoed softly. He stood beside me, looking out across the devastation. "This is the consequence of the Crown. It's not power you control. It's a hunger. It feeds on your deepest ambitions, fears, and regrets."
The sky above roiled with dark clouds, lit by sporadic flashes of crimson lightning. On the horizon, a single figure walked slowly toward us. As he drew closer, my blood ran cold.
It was me. My eyes glowed with cold, ruthless intent, the Crown upon my brow blazing like a sun. He—no, I—smiled cruelly.
"You see yourself clearly now?" the other me asked mockingly. "You think you're a hero, Sylas? That you're different from those who came before? You're not. You're just another would-be god, blinded by your own righteousness."
"No," I said, voice shaking. "I chose differently."
He laughed harshly. "Did you? The Crown has already started to twist you. You abandoned your friends, risked their lives on your path. Even now, you hunger for power, masked behind good intentions."
I felt sick. The worst part was knowing he wasn't entirely wrong. I had told myself it was necessary, that my intentions justified the means. But deep down, I feared what I was becoming.
Embracing Truth
Valec stepped between us, looking at me solemnly. "The Crown's greatest danger isn't destruction. It's seduction. It whispers that your cause is noble, that your enemies are evil, that your sacrifices are justified. It blinds you to the truth—that power always demands a price."
The vision shifted abruptly. I was back at the Academy, but it was in ruins, the towers shattered, flames licking hungrily at blackened stone. My friends—Kieran, Elara, Darian—lay lifeless before me, eyes staring accusingly.
"You think you're prepared for sacrifice?" Valec asked, his voice cold. "Are you prepared for this?"
Pain twisted my chest. "I won't let this happen."
Valec sighed heavily. "All Crown Bearers say that. Yet it always ends here."
The vision faded, leaving only Valec and me standing in darkness again.
"Then how do I stop it?" I asked desperately. "How do I use the Crown without losing myself?"
Valec placed a hand gently on my shoulder, eyes filled with sorrow. "By never forgetting the truth—that the throne does not serve you. You serve it. Only by fully embracing what it demands can you ever hope to break free of it."
The mirror appeared again, clearer now, reflecting my current self—a young man scarred but determined, eyes filled with cautious hope.
"Your first trial is complete," Valec said softly. "You have faced your truth. But the hardest choices are yet to come."
Returned to the Council
Reality flooded back with a surge, leaving me gasping. The crystal beneath me dimmed, returning to silence. The councilors leaned forward, their masks unreadable.
"What have you seen?" the serpent-mask asked.
I stood straighter, meeting their hidden gazes evenly. "I saw what the Crown truly is—a test of who I am, and who I could become. It demands honesty, not just strength. And I accept that price."
The owl-mask nodded slowly. "You speak wisely. Few acknowledge that truth willingly."
The serpent-mask councilor gestured slightly, and the doors opened again. "Your first trial has been passed, Sylas Caelum. Rest, for the next trial awaits."
Aftermath
I stepped out into a small, quiet room lined with benches. Cira waited there, expression tense but relieved.
"You survived," she said quietly.
"Barely," I admitted.
She hesitated, studying my expression. "You saw something painful."
"I saw what I could become. What the Crown wants me to be," I replied softly. "But it also showed me how to fight it."
She smiled faintly. "Then the trial did what it was meant to. Many fail at the first test, unable to accept who they truly are."
I looked down at the Mark, its light calmer now, as if the trial had quieted its restless hunger. "There's still much ahead."
"Yes," she agreed. "But you're stronger for knowing your truth."
We sat quietly together, the weight of the future heavy but shared.
Elsewhere, a Gathering Storm
Far across the sea, back on the shores of our homeland, Kieran, Elara, and Darian moved cautiously through the forests near the borderlands, traveling quickly but quietly.
"Did we make the right choice letting him go?" Elara whispered, glancing nervously at the darkened trees.
Kieran didn't hesitate. "We trust him. Sylas knows what he's doing. He'll return stronger, and we must prepare the way."
But even as he spoke, shadows moved ahead, silent figures blocking their path. Their eyes gleamed softly beneath black masks, and a voice hissed from the dark:
"Your friend will fail. And when he does, your world will burn."
Blades flashed as Silencers stepped from the darkness, moving swiftly, surrounding the trio.
But then, from the shadows behind them, a sudden burst of silvery mana surged, slicing through the attackers, scattering them with a burst of raw power. A familiar figure emerged from the dark, eyes sharp and confident.
Darian blinked in shock. "Darian Voss… you?"
Darian smirked, wiping blood from his blade. "You didn't think you were the only ones who could fight, did you?"
The storm was gathering on every front. The true war was about to begin.