(A)Whispers on the Walls
The last embers of the Trial of Combat still clung to Zaire's skin like phantom heat, but the temple was not done with them.
Beyond the scorched chamber, a staircase spiraled downward into silence, carved from obsidian and lined with flickering sconces that hadn't burned for centuries—until now.
Zaire led the way, sword still humming faintly with residual Ka. Reina walked beside him, brushing soot from her cheek.
Elior trailed behind, casting cautious glances over his shoulder.
Then came the sound—soft footsteps above them. Measured. Familiar.
A figure emerged from the upper dark, robes trailing and scrolls tucked under one arm.
Zaire turned. "Aristea?"
Aristea Bernowel gave a small nod, eyes adjusting to the dim glow. "Miss me?"
"Where the hell have you been?" Elior asked, half-relieved, half-accusing.
"Studying," she said simply. "Figured someone had to read the inscriptions before you three broke another divine artifact."
Zaire cracked a rare smile. "Glad you're here."
"You should be," she muttered, glancing around the corridor. "This place is more dangerous than it looks."
As they walked deeper, the corridor gave way to an enormous underground hall. The walls shifted from sandstone to black volcanic stone, etched with glowing golden glyphs—alive with ancient Ka.
Rael stopped at the threshold. His ears twitched. His tail went rigid.
Zaire rested a hand on the hound's back. "You feel it too, huh?"
The walls pulsed faintly.
"They're not just stories," Aristea murmured, already scanning the glyphs. "These are records... of a war."
She traced the glowing lines with reverent fingers.
"Set rose... and swallowed the sky. A thousand kingdoms fell in days."
"Typical," Elior muttered.
"But it wasn't just Set who responded," Aristea continued. "Sekhmet descended in her wrath. A lioness draped in flame. She razed cities. She became rage incarnate."
Reina stepped closer to the glyph. "She looks... unstoppable."
"She was," Aristea said. "But across the battlefield stood Amneris—her twin. The goddess of peace, healing, mercy. She didn't strike back. She healed those Sekhmet wounded, even those loyal to Set. She believed... if she endured long enough, Sekhmet's rage would burn itself out."
"That's insane," Elior said. "She should've fought."
"Sometimes, mercy is the hardest battle," Reina whispered.
Zaire was silent, staring at the mural of Sekhmet—eyes blazing, mouth open in a roar that split mountains.
"Did it work?" he asked at last.
Aristea nodded slowly. "She got through to her. Amneris walked into her sister's fury and never raised a hand. And at the end, she healed her. Those who had once served chaos were given a second chance... through the Eyes."
"The Eye of Sekhmet," Reina whispered.
"And the Eye of Amneris," Aristea finished.
Rael growled low.
Zaire felt a shift in the air—dense, heavy, electric.
Golden-brown smoke began seeping from the edges of the glyphs, swirling like tendrils from a god's dream.
Rael backed away, whimpering slightly now.
"He knows what's coming," Aristea said.
Zaire's grip on his blade tightened. "Trial of Memory."
The smoke surged, engulfing the four before they could react.
In an instant, the hall vanished.
---
Inside the Memory Realm
Zaire's Trial
Rain lashed the rooftop.
His hands trembled as Jimmy's blade pierced his back. He gasped.
Ross stood over him, the betrayal cold in his voice.
"You were never supposed to outlive the past."
Zaire collapsed again—his blood mixing with the rain, the world going silent as everything he trusted shattered.
---
Elior's Trial
The cliff cracked beneath Reina's feet.
"REINA!"
His hand stretched, reaching—but he was too far. Too late.
Her eyes locked onto his, terrified but trusting.
She fell.
Elior screamed as her figure vanished into the abyss.
---
Reina's Trial
"Mother...?"
Blood soaked the linens.
Her mother reached out, smiling faintly even as the blade plunged again.
"Run, my love."
But Reina couldn't move.
She stood frozen, helpless, as the invader turned toward her.
---
Aristea's Trial
The walls of her childhood home closed in—lined with books, silence, and endless schedules.
"No visitors. No noise," her aunt's voice echoed.
She sat alone at her desk, tears slipping onto an exam sheet marked 98%.
"You call this excellence?" the voice sneered. "You're a shame to the Bernowel name."
Aristea looked at her reflection—dark circles, stiff hands, no laughter.
---
All four were trapped within the walls of their pasts, drowning in the pain that shaped them.
And the temple watched in silence, waiting to see who would break… and who would survive.