The sun hung high above the Solaris Estate, casting long beams of light that danced across the ceremonial courtyard. The majestic sigil of the Solaris Clan, carved into the marble tiles, seemed to pulse faintly in harmony with the tension in the air. The Test of Radiance and Resolve* was over, leaving only the worthy to advance.
For most, the trial had been a carefully choreographed display of power: ornate, refined, perfected through years of practice under the best teachers the family could provide. But Merir's performance had been something no one expected.
Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire, starting faint and scattered, but building steadily as more of those gathered turned toward him. The fifth son of the main family—long-since considered an outcast—had succeeded.
Not just barely succeeded, but confidently, powerfully.
The break between trials didn't allow much rest. Descendants huddled into their respective groups, murmuring quietly while casting sidelong glances toward the competitors who would soon stand beside—or against—each other in battle. It was impossible not to notice how many of those glances were directed at Merir.
---
Near the edge of the courtyard, one of the branch family cousins leaned toward his companion, his face twisted with disbelief.
"That… was unexpected," he muttered. "The blade looked—what's the word—odd? Smaller, but so sharp it felt… dangerous. Almost cruel."
"Cruel?" the other scoffed. "No, not cruel—*precise*. Did you see how stable it was? I thought he'd... I don't know, fall flat on his face or something. Forget forming a shield."
"Never seen anything like it from him before," the first said quietly. "Where's he been hiding this past year?"
Across the courtyard, the murmurs took on sharper edges. Many couldn't decide if Merir's success was worth praise—or scorn. After all, the fact that he'd been left behind for so long had carved sharp lines of expectation into the minds of the Solaris clan. He wasn't supposed to *get it right*, let alone summon weapons that carried the weight of hard-earned mastery.
"That blade of his wasn't… refined," someone said dismissively, loud enough for their peers to hear.
"Not refined?" Lux's voice cut into the conversation. She chuckled, the sound low and venomous. "You saw it, didn't you? All that shimmering, erratic energy? I'd bet ten crystal marks it'll shatter the moment anyone with real skill takes a swing at it."
She flicked her light whip into the air lazily, the golden coil rippling as it shimmered with predatory elegance. Her sharp blue gaze swept toward Merir's silhouette in the distance. He was standing alone, quiet, his dark tunic making him look even more out of place than usual.
"He's not worth talking about," Lux added with a smirk. "The Crimson Circle will sort him out soon enough."
Kael Solaris, who had spoken very little throughout the trial, finally turned slightly in her direction. His expression was calm, unreadable.
"That wasn't the same Merir we grew up with," Kael said plainly. His golden gaze lingered on their younger brother's back as he stood under the shade of a marble pillar. "I don't know where he learned it, but that blade? It's no accident."
Lux scoffed. "We'll see, won't we?"
---
The herald's voice boomed across the now-tense courtyard, calling attention back to the center. The break was over.
"The Test of Radiance and Resolve has ended," the herald declared, his hands clasped behind his back. "Whether through strength or skill, those among you who still stand have proven you are capable of wielding the light. Now, comes the second trial—the Crimson Circle, where your mastery will meet its ultimate test."
The crowd grew still as anticipation gripped the air like a suffocating weight. For the less experienced competitors—especially branch-family descendants—this was the trial they feared most. The Crimson Circle stripped away subtlety and demonstrations. In the circle, only combat mattered.
"You will step into the arena," the herald continued, gesturing to the center where the radiant glyphs of the Crimson Circle began to materialize. They glowed a faint red, running along the outer edges of a perfectly circular combat ring. "Within the Crimson Circle, there will be no room for hesitation and no room for mercy. Victory must be claimed through submission—or until your opponent yields."
Eyes darted nervously among the competitors as the herald spoke the words most dreaded.
"And know this: In today's Crimson Circle, every match will be judged. Both combat prowess and the ability to wield light effectively in battle will determine whether you move forward to the Final Trial. Strength alone will not see you through."
The glyphs glowed brighter as the first combat pairing was announced.
---
"Arlen Solaris, branch family, and Delian Solaris, branch family."
Two competitors stepped forward, one hesitating, the other striding confidently toward the glowing circle. Both wore light combat armor, yet their unease showed in the way they moved.
The moment they entered the circle, red glyphs flared along the edge, sealing them inside. As the herald motioned for their match to begin, light burst outward: one forging a radiant spear, the other opting for a heavier sword.
The combat was fluid but brutal—a dance of dazzling strikes and near-misses as the two opponents fought with desperation and determination.
Merir watched intently, his stance relaxed but his mind focused. While others might have seen the trial as a spectacle, he was already mapping out strategies. The Crimson Circle didn't reward mindless aggression. The key was precision: hitting with the right amount of force, at the right time.
In the end, the competitor wielding the spear emerged victorious, his opponent flat on his back, struggling to recover while glyphs flared red above him to signal his defeat. The herald called for the next match without delay.
---
As more matches followed, the intensity grew. Sparks of light-forged weapons ignited across the courtyard, scattering bursts of energy that seemed to ripple through the stone floor. The fits and bursts of combat left some competitors winded, bruised—but victorious. Others staggered out of the circle defeated, curses beneath their breath and faint scowls marking their disappointment.
To Merir, it was all noise. His pulse didn't quicken; his steady breathing betrayed none of the nervousness that others might have felt. The year of training had taught him how to pace himself—to absorb everything before striking decisively.
When he glanced toward the opposite end of the courtyard, he caught his sister's sharp blue eyes already locked on him. Lux's smirk widened knowingly as her whip coiled in her hand, the faint hum of radiant energy buzzing faintly from its tip.
"No mercy," Lux seemed to mouth silently, grinning as if the inevitable was already set in stone.
---
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of watching and waiting, the herald's voice rang out:
"Next match: Merir Solaris, main family."
Whispers erupted instantly, sharp and uncontained.
"And his opponent," the herald continued with an almost cruel grin, "Lux Solaris, main family."
Merir's blood ran cold for a split second before his lips curled into a wry smile. Of course, it would be her.
---
The Crimson Circle had declared its next pairing. The spectators leaned in eagerly, waiting to see if the dog that had been kicked for so long could even stand against a predator like Lux.
Merir stepped toward the glowing red glyphs, his hands loose, his strides confident yet measured. Lux followed seconds later, practically bouncing with excitement, her whip already coiled in her hand.
"Finally," she said, her voice like a dagger cloaked in velvet. "Let's show everyone just how far out of your depth you really are."
Merir didn't respond. He simply stepped into the circle, small golden sparks flickering faintly at his fingertips.