In the darkness of the pit, the only light came from the beast’s eyes—two molten orbs glimmering in the void. Illaria strained her senses, but Erwin and Jane were gone. Vanished. She didn’t have the luxury to care; the magical beast before them demanded her full attention.
Looking up, she saw the last streaks of sunlight fading into the horizon. They didn’t have much time left. And if they wasted what little remained fighting Kelwrath, they might not survive to complete their true mission.
Marcus’s voice broke the silence. “Erwin and Jane are gone. Think they climbed back up after spotting the beast? Maybe… we should too?”
Illaria hesitated. They were strange, but in the face of danger, instinct always won—and instinct said run.
“Since they’re not here,” she finally said, “we can go all out with Auren. What are our chances of winning?”
Marcus sighed, glancing at the beast. “Decent… if we plan well. But killing this thing and opening the gate could take an hour. Is it worth it? What if we can’t make it?”
The words what if caught Illaria’s attention like a spark in darkness. The rules suddenly echoed in her mind—
You must find the Gate to the Trial of Flame Arena by sunset. Make your way to the arena. Each of you will be given a key.
Her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Marcus… the rules said find the gate, not use it.” Her voice steadied as conviction took hold. “Maybe this isn’t about defeating the beast. Maybe it’s about moving forward despite it. Faith isn’t asking what if—it’s saying even if. Even if we can’t win, we’ll carve our own path to the arena.”
Marcus’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Well, if we think about it… the test-makers wouldn’t expect anyone to fight a magical beast head-on.”
Illaria nodded. “Exactly. And they wouldn’t expect most people to have faith strong enough to step forward anyway. That’s what they’re testing. Not power—belief.”
In the thick of darkness, they clasped hands. Together, they walked toward the beast’s gleaming eyes and the radiant gate beyond. Kelwrath’s gaze followed them, unblinking. The shadows around them deepened, swallowing everything in sight. Illaria couldn’t even see where she was stepping.
Then, the ground vanished beneath their feet.
They fell.
Wind rushed past as the beast and the golden gate disappeared above them. Illaria’s heart pounded as realization hit—the gate, the beast… They were illusions. Conjurations out of Myrenn meant to test their faith. West was years ahead in research with Myrenn for sure. Marcus’s grip tightened on her hand as they tumbled through the dark tunnel until, at last, a faint light glowed ahead.
They landed hard on solid ground—a dimly lit chamber stretched before them. As Illaria caught her breath, a familiar voice echoed across the room.
“Took you long enough,” Jane said, standing before a massive door. Erwin stood beside her, grinning, as two keys gleamed in the locks before them. “We were beginning to think you’d given up. Come on—we’ve got a gate to open.”
Marcus got to his feet, brushing off the dust as he inserted his key beside theirs. “How did you know Kelwrath and the gate weren’t real? And who exactly are you two?” Erwin winked as all four of them turned their keys in unison. The door began to glow, mechanisms rumbling awake.
“Some things,” he said with a mischievous grin, “can only be told later.”
A burst of radiant light flooded through as the gate crumbled open, unveiling a vast amphitheatre bathed in moonlight. The sun had long set, and silver beams shimmered across marble floors and gilded stands, making the arena glow as though carved from starlight itself. Static sky lanterns floated high above, while towering fire posts blazed along the outer rings, casting flickering golden halos over the roaring crowd.
Illaria stepped forward, her breath catching as she took in the sight — thousands of faces, all cheering, clapping, and chanting. The energy in the air was alive, electric. Her gaze drifted toward the grand dais at the far end, where a man sat draped in opulent robes and encrusted jewels, the unmistakable golden crown glinting upon his head. The Emperor of the West.
But before awe could root her in place, a flash of movement caught her eye. To the Emperor’s right, a familiar pair of bright, mischievous eyes met hers. Amayra’s expression overflowed with delight — pure, unfiltered happiness at seeing Illaria and Marcus. Her grin was wild and her excitement infectious.
The Emperor turned his head slightly, and Amayra straightened, offering him a graceful bow before stepping up to the edge of the podium.
“My dear guests,” her voice rang out, strong and confident, filling the amphitheatre, “this year’s Festival of Aris has truly been one for the books! I’ll be honest — I expected at least four teams to make it this far…” She smirked. “But then again, considering I designed this year’s contest myself — what did you all really expect?”
The crowd erupted with laughter and applause, their cheers echoing through the open sky.
Illaria turned to Marcus, eyes wide. She designed the trials? Marcus looked equally stunned — and perhaps a little betrayed. But then it was Amayra, it was hard to stay mad at her for long.
Amayra raised a hand, calling the arena to silence. “Now, brave contenders,” she continued, her tone slipping into something regal yet warm, “please step forward to the center.” Illaria noticed then — another group of four stood across the arena, clearly having arrived before them. So they weren’t the only ones who’d made it through.
Amayra’s eyes gleamed as she spoke again, “These valiant teams have conquered three of the four trials — they have proven their knowledge, displayed strategic brilliance, and shown unshakable fearlessness and faith.” Her words rolled like thunder through the air. “But the true gods and goddesses of war must possess one final virtue — strength!”
The crowd erupted again, stamping and shouting, their voices rising like a storm.
Amayra smiled wider, relishing the excitement. “And now, for the part we all love the most — the grand finale! A battle to decide who truly deserves the divine titles. Two teams enter. One emerges victorious. The winners of each individual match will then face each other to claim the highest honour of the West, God and Goddess of War!”
Her hand rose high, bracelets shimmering like captured fire. “May the strongest rise, and may the gods bear witness — let the final trial… begin!”
Illaria, Marcus, and Jane stepped aside as the arena cleared, leaving Erwin and one man from the opposing team standing under the pale light. The air was thick with tension and the restless crowd was now silent. Illaria folded her arms, eyes narrowing. Something about Erwin and Jane still didn’t sit right with her, and perhaps watching him fight would finally reveal what they were hiding.
Erwin’s opponent towered over him — a man twice his size, built like a fortress, with the hardened look of a seasoned warrior. His aura flared with raw heat; Illaria could tell he was an Auren energy user. He raised his voice, booming across the amphitheatre, “Surrender now, or face the fire of the mighty Grespo!”
Grespo’s tone was confident but arrogant. Erwin, on the other hand, didn’t even draw a weapon. Neither did he have a weapon to draw. Illaria chuckled while he stood there lazily, one hand in his pocket, muttering under his breath. Illaria’s eyes caught the words on his lips: “If not for Jane, I’d have ended this in a second.” Illaria was surprised. Erwin was either too cocky or too cocky – which would be revealed in the next couple of minutes.
Grespo wasted no time. With a growl, he thrust his arms forward, sending blazing orbs of fire hurtling toward Erwin. The air shimmered with heat — but Erwin moved like air. Each fireball missed by mere inches as he slipped through them effortlessly, his footwork so fluid it was almost playful.
Then Grespo clasped his hands together, palms angled in opposite directions. Flames twisted from his fingertips, merging into a serpent of fire that lunged at Erwin with a deafening hiss. The crowd gasped as the fiery snake coiled through the air, chasing its target with lethal precision.
Erwin sprinted across the arena, the serpent following close behind, growing larger and more unstable with every passing second. Erwin darted along the perimeter, keeping just out of reach, forcing Grespo to pour more energy into sustaining the spell.
Illaria caught something though — the serpent wasn’t gaining on Erwin anymore. It was slowing. She glanced at Grespo and found his breathing had turned ragged, his control faltering.
She looked at Erwin. His smirk which for the record had never disappeared now had spread across his face in a big smile. Erwin had noticed it too – or rather he knew this was going to happen.
In one fluid motion, he turned sharply toward the center of the arena — straight at Grespo. Startled, Grespo panicked, preparing to unleash one final blast. But Erwin didn’t strike. At the last instant, he side-stepped, letting momentum — and Grespo’s own creation — do the rest. The fiery serpent crashed down on its master in a brilliant burst of flame and smoke. When the light cleared, Grespo lay on the ground, defeated and passed out, while Erwin stood to the side — untouched, his expression cool and unbothered.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting his name as firelight flickered over his calm, almost bored face. Illaria exhaled, her mind racing. Turning your opponent’s power against them — it was elegant, efficient, and mercilessly intelligent. She glanced at Marcus, who gave a low whistle, clearly impressed. Erwin might have been arrogant, yes — but he was no ordinary fighter. He was something else entirely.
Amaryra’s voice rang through the arena, bright and commanding. “And that concludes the first match! What a brilliant display by our contestant Erwin!” The crowd’s roar grew louder, echoing off the stone walls. “Now, for the next duel — Jane versus Wayrin!”
If Erwin’s fight had been fast, Jane’s was a blur.
The moment the signal was given, Jane launched forward and unleashed a storm. For someone who talked less, her fists talked a lot. Her punches were blinding — a flurry of precise, devastating blows. Her opponent tried to guard, but each block only opened another angle for her next strike. Illaria felt something was off though — Wayrin wasn’t able to block not because he was slow but because he couldn’t. Something blocked his movement but what Illaria couldn’t tell.
The crowd barely had time to react before Wayrin had collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Jane didn’t gloat — she simply looked toward Erwin, raised her thumb with a small grin, and stepped back. Amaryra’s laughter echoed through the arena. “Now that’s what I call efficiency!”
The next round was announced: Marcus versus Renar.
Marcus turned to Illaria before stepping forward. “I’ll make this quick. We’ll need our energy for the next round — those two aren’t good news.”
Illaria nodded.
Marcus entered the arena with confidence. His duel was clean and decisive — a masterclass in swordsmanship. His opponent barely lasted two exchanges before Marcus disarmed him with a swift twist of his blade. When it was Illaria’s turn, she mirrored his precision. Her fight was poised and calculated, each strike measured to end the battle. She had her opponent on the hilt of Eleos within a couple of minutes. The fight was over and the crowd’s excitement had reached its peak.
Amaryra returned to the podium, “This year’s Festival of Aris has proven truly extraordinary!” she declared, her voice rising above the chants. “Four fighters — all from the same team — have shown incredible strength, skill, and spirit. But now,” she paused, a playful spark in her eyes, “it’s time to decide who among them will rise as the gods and goddesses of this year’s trials!”
The amphitheatre roared with a crazy energy waiting to hear the next line-up of matches.
Amaryra smiled. “And since it has been many years since two women reached the finals, this year’s final matches will be —” she raised her arm toward the audience — “Erwin versus Marcus… and Jane versus Illaria! Let us celebrate this year’s festival with a true god and goddess of war!” The crowd exploded in applause, the air alive with anticipation. The real battle was about to begin.
The air in the amphitheatre shimmered with tension as Marcus stepped into the arena. Across from him stood Erwin. Both men faced each other in silence, the crowd’s roars fading to a low hum of expectation. Illaria watched from the sidelines, her fists clenched at her sides. A nervous energy prickled in her chest. The signal was given.
Marcus attacked first, sword flashing under the moonlight. Erwin met the blow effortlessly, his movements sharp and precise. Sparks flew as metal clashed against unseen force — Erwin wasn’t even wielding a weapon. He moved with sheer control of energy, blocking with his hands, his arms, his entire body flowing like water.
Illaria’s heart pounded. Marcus was powerful, but Erwin was unreadable — like he was playing with him. Blow after blow echoed through the arena. For a moment, Marcus faltered. Erwin smirked. And then — something shifted. Marcus feinted, spun, and drove his sword down with full force. Erwin didn’t move. The blade stopped an inch from his neck — and then, as if remembering something, Erwin smiled faintly and stepped back, lowering his guard. Marcus pressed on, striking cleanly this time. Erwin fell, the crowd erupting in wild cheers.
Illaria exhaled sharply, her relief mixed with unease. That wasn’t a clear defeat — it was Erwin’s choice.
Then came her turn. Illaria stepped into the arena, facing Jane. Jane passed her a small smile. A gong sounded. The match began. Illaria unsheathed Eleos and went for a full attack. She had seen Jane deflect magic before, during her earlier duel with Wayrin, and now that strange resistance was back. This resistance was neither Auren nor Myrenn… it was as if she was one with nature, literally like a human incantation of flowing energy. She was something from beyond.
A full attack like this won’t work, Illaria felt. She was just exhausting herself out. Illaria suddenly remembered – the move she had tried to pull on Marcus on the hilltop, the one she had almost died for. She could try that with Jane. Illaria suddenly stopped. She put enough between her and Jane and then slowly started circling Jane. One special thing about her secret move was her Auren was concealed — She could see the thin circle she had formed around Jane, but no one else in the arena knew what she was doing. Jane conveniently stood in the center with a small smile. That smile spelt trouble. No, for Jane, a circle was not enough. Illaria leaped into the air to form a web with Jane at its centre. The set-up was complete. Now it was time to take her down. With a deep breath, Illaria poured her Auren energy into form. The whole web came to life around Jane. The crowd roared with excitement. Finally, something interesting was happening. But the best part was yet to come. Illaria closed her eyes and focused. She imagined daggers, hammers, spears, tiny blades emerging out from the web. Weapons made not of metal, but of her Auren energy.
“I call it the dance of the swords.” She said to Jane who showed no intent to counter. Irritated by her lack of interest Illaria raised her hand and the dance began. The weapons rained down from every direction on Jane. The crowd gasped as the arena witnessed a dance of blades. But Jane stayed inside somehow magically dodging her attacks, as if she were shape-shifting through time. Illaria poured in more energy to tenfold the weapons attacking Jane now. She felt sweat trickle down her brow. The crowd was too far off to see what was happening to Jane. And yet, through the haze Illaria saw— Jane was still there. Calm. Unharmed. Her body shimmered and shifted, phasing through each attack as though she were not bound by the same physical laws.
Illaria’s shaky voice reached her, “Are you even from this world?”
Jane’s voice was steady, almost gentle. “Yes and no. I am not related to you by blood — not yet. But I and Erwin wish to be. That is our mission.”
Illaria faltered. “That makes no sense.”
“It will,” Jane said softly. “In time. Know this — you cannot defeat me. Just as Marcus could not defeat Erwin. But we let you win. For the advancement of our world — our future.”
Illaria stared at her, words frozen in her throat. Jane smiled faintly, then shifted her stance — and let one of Illaria’s blades strike her thigh. She fell to the ground, blood blooming across her skin. Illaria immediately halted the attack. The arena exploded with cheers. The crowd chanted her name, voices rising like thunder. But Illaria felt hollow. As attendants rushed to clear the arena, Illaria was guided up to the grand podium, where Marcus already stood. The emperor stood before them, his expression unreadable.
Illaria leaned close to Marcus and whispered, “Something’s off. Jane said they let us win.” Marcus’s jaw tightened. “I thought the same. Erwin held back — he is capable of much more. Though He said to keep this fight between us.”
Before Illaria could reply, Amaryra’s sharp eyes cut through their hushed words. Her eyes said just one thing, “Be silent.” The Emperor rose, his gaze cold and assessing. He stepped closer, but before he could speak, Amaryra interjected, “Grandfather, they’ve had a long day. Let them catch some rest before tomorrow’s ceremony.”
The Emperor regarded her for a moment, then nodded curtly. “Very well. Dismissed.”
Illaria bowed and followed Marcus out of the arena, her thoughts tangled. She was escorted to some guest quarters. As soon as she hit the bed, exhaustion overcame before her thoughts of worry. She instantly fell asleep and dreamed of nothing.
She woke up by dawn to find the amphitheatre had transformed. The grand empty arena had been replaced by a massive pyre. The air was filled with the scent of wood, incense and wildflowers. Illaria and Marcus were soon summoned. They stood before the priests, adorned in beautiful but simple robes. The prayer began, invoking the old gods. Illaria followed each ritual carefully, her nerves taut until Marcus caught her gaze and gave a small reassuring smile. He hadn’t said anything that morning – which was very unlike him but his presence beside her instilled a sense of calmness. She smiled back, heart steadying and nerves relaxing. The prayers went till noon after which they were free to leave.
Illaria and Marcus sat at a small shop near the plaza, sipping tea under the soft afternoon light.
Marcus smirked. “You know, if you’d pulled that move you used on Jane back on the hilltop — I’d be dead meat.” Illaria laughed, shaking her head. “Lucky for you, I slipped.”
Her laughter faded. “I haven’t seen Erwin or Jane ever since.”
“Neither have I,” Marcus said. “And I don’t think we should talk about them to Amaryra or the others. Erwin told me to keep our duel private. My guess? They appear only when they’re meant to.” Illaria felt uneasy.
Before she could reply, Amaryra, Rigor, and Amarin bustled into the shop. “There you two are!” Amaryra said with her usual spark. “Congratulations, God and Goddess of War! Btw, Illaria that dance of swords – wow, I was impressed. The amount of control you must have on your Auren is insane. We should battle it out sometime, although by the time we will I will have a counter.”
Amarin pitched in, “Amayra, don’t turn into another Marcus for Illaria, I guess she already is a victim to your yapping.”
“Oh Come on Princess, you like my talking don’t you?” They all laughed at that. It was good to be back with them. But the conversation soon turned serious as Amaryra laid out their next steps.
“Amarin will investigate the Western cities. He will collect information on strange happenings especially in the cities of Tyria and Nightsong. I will investigate the palace. Marcus — joining the Western Army will be easy now. You’re the god; they’ll welcome you with open arms. Rigor will also temporarily move back to the army to help you. You both will try to find the faceless man and sneak into the lab.”
Marcus nodded.
“For Illaria,” Amaryra continued, “we’ll have to see. It’s been years since a woman won so I don’t know from where all you will get offers to work but I’m hopeful some noble family will step in. We will wait till tomorrow evening to see where you will fit the best.” Illaria didn’t like how a detailed plan was not present for her but patience was her only true friend right now. She told herself to not jump to conclusions soon.
By next morning, proposals flooded in for Marcus — from noble families, hunting guilds, the army as well as Amayra had predicted. The city buzzed with his name. Illaria, however, received none. Her smile faltered as the day wore on, irritation prickling beneath her pride. By evening her irritation had taken the deadly form of ranting.
“What is it with North and West? Why are you guys so against women! I demonstrated such amazing skills — even you were impressed, Amayra. I could have even gotten down Marcus with it if we both fought! Why haven’t I gotten a single proposal! I hate this.” Illaria raged on as Marcus tried to calm her down.
“No, you don’t understand Marcus, it is unfair and I will not stand for it. I want to go and talk to the army general of yours. And —” And she kept ranting on and on as Marcus just stood beside her and shot Amayra a “please help her look”.
After a long thought, Amaryra broke the rant. “Come work with me,” she said. “Be my handwoman. So what if these families don’t want you. I want you. We’ll explore the palace together. Anyways, those families probably know nothing about grandad’s plans and well Grandad, he can be difficult to deal with. I could use someone smart at my side.”
Illaria hesitated, but finally agreed. This was clearly a sad compensation but it was better than nothing. So the plan was finalized. Amarin was going to investigate the happenings in the cities, Marcus and Rigor would search through the army for the faceless man and uncover the secrets of the lab while Illaria and Amayra would uncover what the Western Emperor was hiding.
As they rose from the table, Marcus turned to her with a half-smile. “Well, Princess, looks like it’s time to part ways.”
Illaria smirked. “Good. I was tired of your yapping anyway.”
“Careful, Princess. For now, I’m just temporarily leaving but you'll miss me when I am gone.” Marcus chuckled as he walked toward his quarters. As she watched him go, something heavy settled in her chest.
The next morning, the sun broke through the horizon, painting the sky orange gold. The five of them mounted their horses, ready to begin their journeys.
Neither of them noticed the faint shimmer far behind — two figures watching from the shadows, smiling faintly before disappearing into the light.