Chapter 161: The Test of Flame

Darian stood at the edge of the broken plain, staring into the pale horizon where the Spire jutted like a blade from the earth.

“She’s called me,” he murmured.

The ground beneath him vibrated with ancient energy—Serena’s magic echoing from miles away, like a heartbeat felt across a battlefield.

Behind him, black-armored Gateborn lined the ridges, their weapons gleaming, their faces hidden behind silver masks. Among them, a few humans remained—converted, tempted, loyal for now.

But not all.

Lyra stood three rows back, silent.

Her sword, the one the Gate offered her, hung at her hip. She hadn’t drawn it since claiming it. Not because she feared its power.

But because she feared what it would tell her if she did.

Darian turned, his silver gaze sweeping over his gathered army.

“She wants to end this,” he said. “So we’ll let her try.”

At the Broken Spire, the air had grown sharp—heavy with energy. Mira reinforced the protective circle three times before even lighting the central torch.

“This place remembers pain,” she said.

Serena knelt at the Spire’s base, her palm pressed to the stone.

And the stone whispered.

Not words.

Images.

Visions.

A hallway of glass.

Elias.

Covered in blood.

Holding her blade.

Facing her.

"You weren’t strong enough," he said, his eyes dull. "So I did what you couldn’t."

Serena backed away. “This isn’t real.”

“You left the throne empty,” he growled. “So someone else had to sit.”

He stepped closer.

She tried to summon fire.

Nothing came.

“Face it, Serena,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You were born to lead. But you’re too afraid to rule.”

He raised the blade—

She screamed.

Elias grabbed her shoulders in the real world, grounding her.

“Hey—hey, it’s not me. I’m here. Look at me.”

Serena gasped, shaking violently.

“It wasn’t you,” she whispered. “It was the Gate.”

Mira knelt beside them. “It’s testing your will. The closer we get to confrontation, the more it’ll twist your mind. You need to separate illusion from instinct.”

“I know,” Serena breathed. “But it felt so real.”

Elias took her hand.

“Then we fight it. Together.”

Elsewhere, in the Gate camp, Lyra was moving.

Carefully.

Quietly.

She’d spent the past two nights mapping the terrain around their army. Recording weak points. Noting which Gateborn were slower, which terrain was easier to breach.

She didn’t need to defeat Darian.

She just needed to crack the armor around him.

She slipped a folded map beneath a rock near a familiar grove—one the scouts from Serena’s side often used.

It wasn’t much.

But it was the beginning.

Of betrayal reversed.

Back at the Spire, Serena sat before the glowing rift they'd opened.

Mira paced.

Kael patrolled.

Theron disappeared into shadows every few hours.

Caine still hadn’t spoken since waking—but his silver eyes watched everything, and Serena saw understanding behind them.

“I want to ask him something,” she said.

Elias turned. “Caine?”

She nodded.

Mira frowned. “He’s still fragile.”

“I won’t push.”

She walked to where he sat, cross-legged, hands folded in his lap.

“Caine,” she said softly. “When he was inside you… what did you see?”

He blinked slowly.

Then spoke for the first time in days.

“Your shadow.”

She stilled.

“My… shadow?”

He nodded. “The Gate showed him what you could be. But it also showed me what you might become. That throne isn’t just about power.”

“Then what is it?”

“Burden,” he whispered. “It’s weight. History. Sacrifice.”

Serena sat beside him.

“And do I sit on it in those futures?”

“Sometimes,” Caine said. “But not always by choice.”

She closed her eyes.

Let the knowledge sink in.

The Gate didn’t want her to destroy the world.

It wanted her to carry it.

And that was the most dangerous offer of all.

That night, under a blood-tinted moon, Serena stood at the edge of the Spire and said the words that changed everything:

“I’ll face him.”

The wind shifted.

The Gate pulsed.

And Darian smiled.