Both Arlith and her entourage followed the Nythari as he led them through the dimly lit library. They moved in silence, their steps muffled against the stone floors. The scent of parchment and ancient dust clung to the air. When they reached a massive bookcase along the far wall, the Nythari reached for one of the thick, leather-bound tomes and pulled.

  A soft click echoed through the room.

  The bookcase shifted, groaning as centuries-old mechanisms came to life. The heavy shelf slid aside, revealing a dark, narrow passageway leading downward. A gust of stale air rushed past them, carrying the scent of damp stone and something older—something untouched by time.

  “In here, you shall find where Aeloria once meditated,” the Nythari murmured, stepping back. His golden eyes gleamed with unspoken knowledge. “But you will also find an escape tunnel built by Aeloria herself. It leads far beyond the city’s borders, meant to allow the people of Aeorla to flee in times of war.”

  He turned his gaze to Arlith, his voice lowering. “Use it wisely. If the spies draw too close, follow the tunnel. Head for the Dwarven lands to the west. There are those among them who still remember their oath to Aeloria.”

  Arlith hesitated, glancing at Sorvin. His sky-blue eyes remained sharp and alert, scanning the entrance as if expecting a trap. The other soldiers stiffened at the mention of spies, gripping their weapons.

  Arlith took a steadying breath before stepping forward. “Understood.”

  She crossed the threshold first, feeling the shift in the air as she passed through the ancient doorway. The stone walls seemed to tighten around them, the silence thick with an eerie presence.

  The chamber lay deep beneath the amphitheater, its walls carved with swirling sigils that pulsed faintly, as if reacting to her presence. The air hummed with something unseen, something that sent a shiver down Arlith’s spine.

  A massive, circular platform stood in the center of the chamber, surrounded by pillars etched with glowing runes. The platform itself was marked by a spiral of symbols, each one older than the last.

  “This place…” one of the soldiers muttered, shifting uneasily. “It feels… alive.”

  “It remembers,” the Nythari corrected. He remained at the entrance, unwilling to follow them further. “The chamber was built not just for meditation, but for reflection, for trial. It will test you, Arlith. Just as it once tested Aeloria.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Arlith stepped onto the platform, and the moment her foot touched the center, the world shifted.

  The torches lining the chamber flickered and died.

  A sharp gust of air rushed past her, and suddenly, she was no longer in the chamber.

  Arlith found herself standing on a battlefield.

  The sky above was painted in hues of fire and dusk, a setting sun drowning in thick, black smoke. The earth beneath her feet was soaked in blood, littered with bodies of the mortals she swore to guide—First Ones and Dragons.

  Aeloria’s memories.

  She was seeing through the ancient goddesses eyes, feeling the weight of her armor, the exhaustion settling deep into her bones. Aeloria stood at the center of the battlefield, gripping a sword that pulsed with golden light. Before her stood Zaryx.

  He was different—his silver eyes filled not with the cold detachment she had come to know but something… deeper. His dark armor gleamed with runic engravings, his face a mask of conflict.

  “This was the moment,” a voice whispered in Arlith’s mind. “The moment where everything changed between him and I.”

  Zaryx took a slow step forward as his eyes filled with tears, lowering his weapon to show he doesn't wish to hurt the one he loves. “Aeloria… you don’t have to do this.”

  Arlith felt her lips move instinctively, but the voice that came out was not her own.

  “You left me no choice.”

  Aeloria’s emotions surged through her—a tidal wave of grief, fury, and something buried deep beneath it all: regret.

  Zaryx exhaled sharply. “Is that what you tell yourself while the mortals manipulate you? That I left you no choice?” His voice was raw, filled with something she couldn’t place. “You know the truth, Aeloria. You always have.”

  For the first time, Arlith felt doubt coil in Aeloria’s heart.

  Could this be changed? Was there a choice she had refused to see?

  The memory fractured.

  Suddenly, Arlith was herself again, standing before Zaryx, her own hands gripping a phantom blade. The battlefield blurred at the edges, the moment warping around her.

  A voice thundered through the vision:

  “Make your choice, Arlith. Will you follow in her footsteps? Or will you forge your own path?”

  Zaryx raised his blade into a fighting stance, and Arlith realized—this was a test.

  She could react the way Aeloria had, repeat history, and see where it led.

  Or she could break free.

  The weight of destiny pressed upon her shoulders, waiting.

  When Arlith came to, she was on her knees in the chamber. The sigils beneath her glowed faintly before fading, leaving only silence.

  Sorvin was at her side instantly, his grip firm on her shoulder. “Arlith? What happened?” His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his concern.

  Arlith took a shuddering breath, shaking off the remnants of the vision. “I saw… Aeloria. Her last battle. Her last choice.”

  The Nythari, still standing at the entrance, nodded as if unsurprised. “And? What did you learn?”

  Arlith hesitated.

  She had thought this journey was about remembering who she was. But now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Aeloria.

  She wasn’t just inheriting a legacy—she was being asked to choose whether to repeat it.

  Her fingers curled into fists. “That I can’t stay here.” She turned to Sorvin and the others. “We need to leave. Now.”

  Sorvin nodded, already anticipating her decision. The other soldiers moved into formation, ready to escort her into the tunnel.

  The Nythari gave a final warning as he disappeared into the shadows.

  “The past does not let go so easily, Arlith.”

  And as the group vanished into the depths, the Starshard pulsed once more.

  Far away, Zaryx felt that certain feeling that flowed through his veins.

  He knew.

  And he was already preparing for her return.