The following days blurred together as Sirt threw himself into learning. The ancient books and scrolls Elara had provided were dense with cryptic symbols, and the magic they contained was foreign, impossible to grasp at first. He was no longer in the streets of Meridian, no longer a mere thief in a city of lights and noise. Here, in this forgotten realm, he had to learn to wield forces that transcended anything he'd ever known.
Every morning, Elara would wake him with the same cold precision, pulling him from his fitful sleep to train. The first lesson had been simple: focus. He had to learn to feel the shard, to attune himself to the hum of the magic within it. He had failed miserably at first, struggling to even connect with the crystal, let alone channel its power.
But there was something else. As Elara had told him, the realm itself fought back. The energy that surged through the shard was unpredictable, harsh, and wild, as though the world was alive—alive with hunger. Magic was everywhere, but it wasn't kind. It wanted to test him, break him, force him to yield. And Sirt had learned the hard way that magic here didn't forgive weakness.
Today, however, felt different.
The sun—if it could be called that—was hidden behind a thick cloud of ash, casting a cold, oppressive light across the wasteland. A low hum echoed from the horizon, where the jagged remnants of towers and walls pierced the ashen sky. Elara had led him to a training ground, an open expanse of cracked earth bordered by the ruins of a once-grand fortress.
"We're starting your first trial," Elara said, her voice as emotionless as ever. She stood beside a boulder, one hand resting lightly on her blade, her eyes scanning the horizon. "You've awakened the shard's power. Now it's time to see if you can control it."
Sirt felt a cold chill run down his spine. "And if I fail?"
Elara's gaze met his, her silver eyes sharp. "Failure isn't an option here. You'll be tested again and again until you either learn or die. That's how it works."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with truth. Sirt knew better than to argue. He might have been a thief in his previous life, but here, he was just another wanderer in a broken world.
"You'll need to summon the shard's energy and use it to protect yourself from the creatures that will come," she continued, stepping aside. "You'll need to create barriers, control the energy, and keep your wits about you."
"Creatures?" Sirt asked, his grip tightening around the shard. He could feel its warmth now, pulsing steadily in his palm, as if it were aware of the coming test.
Elara didn't answer right away. Instead, she drew her blade, the faint light of the crystal flickering along its edge. "The Wraithkin are drawn to shards like yours. But there are worse things in this world. If you can't hold your own against them, then you'll be nothing but a meal for the beasts that roam this realm."
Sirt nodded stiffly. There was no time for hesitation. This was the reality he now faced.
He closed his eyes, drawing the shard close to his chest. The energy inside it seemed to hum louder, like a heartbeat. For a brief moment, he could feel the rhythm of the realm itself, a pulse beneath the earth, a flow of magic coursing through the very ground.
"Focus," he whispered to himself, his grip tightening around the shard. "Focus."
But the world was shifting. His heartbeat quickened, the air thickening with tension. The fog around them began to swirl, moving unnaturally fast, as though it had a mind of its own.
A low growl vibrated through the ground, the hairs on the back of Sirt's neck standing on end. He whirled around, his eyes scanning the mist. And there—emerging from the fog—were the Wraithkin.
These creatures were not like anything he had ever seen. They were ethereal, shifting forms of shadow and smoke, with hollow eyes that glowed a sickly green. Their limbs were long, and their movements jagged and unpredictable. The air around them crackled with distorted energy, and their howls sent a shiver through Sirt's spine.
"They're fast," Elara warned, her voice calm but filled with intent. "And they'll tear through you if you're not careful."
Sirt didn't wait for further instruction. His mind raced as he lifted the shard, feeling the pulse of energy within it. The Wraithkin closed the distance between them in an instant, their movements impossibly swift. One of them lunged at him, its claws outstretched, eyes locked on its prey.
In that moment, panic surged through Sirt's chest. He thrust the shard forward, willing it to do something, anything.
The energy flared.
A barrier, flickering and unstable, erupted around him, just in time to deflect the Wraithkin's claws. The creature hissed, its ethereal form dissolving into the shadows for a split second before reforming with a snarl.
Sirt staggered back, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The barrier wasn't strong enough. He could feel it, the shard's energy flickering, unsteady.
The next Wraithkin didn't wait. It rushed forward, and Sirt barely had time to react before it slammed into the barrier. The force of the impact sent him stumbling, his legs faltering beneath him. The energy from the shard crackled and flared violently, pushing back against the Wraithkin, but it was unstable—flickering in and out of existence like a dying flame.
Elara's voice cut through the chaos. "Focus on control! The magic is a reflection of you. Calm your mind!"
Sirt squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sounds of the creatures and the whirling fog. His breath steadied, and his pulse began to slow. He could feel the shard in his hands, its energy still pulsing but now more under his control.
The next time the Wraithkin lunged, Sirt raised his hand, not just reacting, but commanding. A barrier of light erupted in front of him, solid and unyielding. The Wraithkin collided with it, shrieking in fury as it splintered into shadow.
Sirt's heart raced, but the barrier held.
More Wraithkin emerged, their claws slashing the air, their howls rising. Sirt gritted his teeth and raised his hand again. This time, the energy came faster, more fluid, like a well-tuned instrument under his command. His hand shot forward, and the magic flowed outward, enveloping the creatures in a shimmering wall of energy that pulsed with force.
The Wraithkin screeched in agony as they were pushed back, their forms dissolving into the air, scattering like smoke.
One by one, the creatures fell, until there was silence. Sirt stood, panting, his body drenched in sweat. The shard in his hand still pulsed, but it felt different now—stronger. The energy was his, or at least, it was starting to be.
Elara stepped forward, her gaze appraising. "Not bad. You've learned to command the first stage of the magic."
Sirt turned to her, his voice hoarse. "I didn't do it alone. The shard—"
"The shard reflects you," Elara interrupted. "Your mind, your focus, your strength. The magic here is a part of you now."
Sirt nodded, understanding the weight of her words. It was more than just raw power; it was a connection. He had to master it, or it would destroy him.
"You've passed the first trial," Elara said, turning away. "But remember, there's always a second."
Sirt swallowed, his gaze still on the ruined landscape. He knew that the challenges here were only beginning.
And for the first time, he was ready.