The mountains loomed higher as Azarion and Sera trekked deeper into the wasteland. The earth beneath their feet felt alive, thrumming faintly as if the land itself was a living thing, watching, waiting. The trial had shaken something loose in Azarion—not just his power but his memories, fragments of a past he'd long buried.
"You've gone quiet," Sera remarked, breaking the heavy silence. She walked beside him, her gaze flicking between him and the terrain ahead. "You always brood this much after a near-death experience?"
Azarion's lips twitched in the faintest shadow of a smile. "You think that was near death?"
"I think if I hadn't been there, you'd still be fighting yourself in that void," she said bluntly. "Don't act like you don't need help."
He stopped walking, his sharp gaze pinning her in place. "What I face cannot be fought by mortals. If you follow me, you risk more than death—you risk losing everything."
She didn't flinch. "I made my choice when I saved you. Stop trying to scare me off."
Azarion sighed, resuming his stride. She was stubborn, he had to give her that. And he couldn't deny that her presence, while uninvited, had been a steadying force.
---
The land began to shift as they neared the base of the mountains. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground, and the air grew hotter, heavy with the smell of sulfur. A faint, unnatural glow emanated from the peaks above, casting eerie shadows across the landscape.
"What's up there?" Sera asked, her voice hushed.
Azarion glanced up, his expression unreadable. "An old wound."
Before she could press further, the ground beneath them trembled. A low rumble echoed through the canyon, followed by the sound of stone grinding against stone. Sera grabbed her bow, her eyes scanning their surroundings.
"What now?" she muttered.
The answer came in the form of a massive figure emerging from the shadows ahead. Its body was composed of molten rock, cracks in its surface glowing with fiery light. It stood twice as tall as a man, its eyes burning with a malevolent intelligence.
"A guardian," Azarion said, drawing his blade.
The creature let out a guttural roar, the sound reverberating through the canyon. It raised a massive arm, the molten rock shifting as it formed into a jagged weapon. Without hesitation, it charged.
Azarion stepped forward, meeting the guardian's strike head-on. His blade clashed against the molten weapon, sparks flying as the impact sent shockwaves through the air.
"Stay back!" he shouted over his shoulder to Sera.
But Sera wasn't one to stay idle. She darted to the side, loosing an arrow that struck the guardian's shoulder. The arrow sizzled and dissolved on impact, but the creature faltered for a moment, giving Azarion an opening.
He drove his blade into the guardian's midsection, the golden light of the weapon flaring as it met the creature's molten core. The guardian let out a pained roar, its body convulsing as cracks spread across its surface.
"You're welcome," Sera called out, notching another arrow.
Azarion didn't reply. He pulled his blade free and leapt back as the guardian exploded in a burst of molten rock and flame. The heat washed over him, but he remained standing, his blade still glowing faintly.
Sera lowered her bow, approaching cautiously. "Is it dead?"
"For now," Azarion said, his voice low. He studied the remains of the guardian, his gaze lingering on the molten fragments scattered across the ground. "But it won't be the last."
---
As they climbed higher into the mountains, the air grew thinner, the heat more oppressive. The unnatural glow intensified, casting the jagged peaks in an otherworldly light.
Finally, they reached a plateau, the ground beneath them smooth and polished as if carved by ancient hands. At the center of the plateau stood a massive door, its surface covered in intricate carvings that seemed to shift and move as they watched.
Azarion approached the door, his hand hovering over the carvings. He could feel the power emanating from it, a familiar energy that stirred something deep within him.
"This is it," he said quietly.
"What's behind it?" Sera asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"A fragment of my power," he replied. "And another trial."
Sera frowned. "Another trial? Like the last one?"
Azarion shook his head. "No. This one will be worse."
Before she could respond, the carvings on the door began to glow. The ground beneath them trembled, and a deep voice echoed from the door.
"Azarion, the Exiled. You have passed the first trial. Now, face the fire of the gods. Prove your resolve, or be consumed."
The door swung open, revealing a blinding light. Azarion stepped forward without hesitation, the blade in his hand glowing brighter in response.
Sera hesitated for only a moment before following him.
---
They entered a massive chamber, the walls lined with flowing rivers of molten lava. At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, and upon it rested a fragment of shimmering golden light.
Azarion could feel the pull of the fragment, the power it contained calling out to him. But he knew it wouldn't be so easy.
As they approached the pedestal, the lava around them began to churn. From its depths rose a figure wreathed in flame, its body towering and ethereal. It held a massive staff, its presence radiating divine authority.
"The Fire Warden," Azarion muttered, his grip on the blade tightening.
The warden's voice boomed, shaking the chamber. "You seek what does not belong to you, Exiled One. Prove your worth, or be reduced to ash."
Azarion stepped forward, his blade raised. "I've faced gods before. You won't stop me."
The warden let out a roar, its staff slamming into the ground and sending a wave of fire surging toward them.
Azarion met the wave head-on, his blade slicing through the flames as he charged toward the warden. Sera stayed back, her arrows flying toward the warden's glowing core.
The trial had begun, and failure was not an option.