Aureth's heart raced as she stepped forward into the darkness, the sound of her footsteps muted by the suffocating silence. The weight of the trial pressed against her chest, and the more she tried to brace herself, the more it threatened to crush her.
The fog swirled around her like a living thing, coiling and twisting as though it had a mind of its own. Then, a voice echoed through the silence—a familiar voice, one that she had longed to hear and feared to hear in equal measure.
"Aureth…"
The whisper lingered in the air, pulling at the very essence of her being. It was him. Lyros. Her husband.
"No… no, please…" Aureth whispered to the empty space around her. She staggered forward, panic rising in her throat. But the voice—his voice—came again, this time stronger, more insistent.
"Aureth," it called. "You thought I was gone, but you were wrong."
She spun around, eyes wide with terror. The world around her began to shift, the fog parting to reveal a familiar landscape. The very ground she stood upon had morphed into the same cliffside she had tried so hard to forget. The sky was a storm of black clouds, crackling with lightning. She could hear the distant roar of a battle—the war she had convinced him to fight, the war that had torn their lives apart.
And there he was.
Lyros.
But not as she remembered him. His broad shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, his once-gentle eyes now filled with a hatred that pierced her to her core. His clothing was tattered, his body bruised and bloodied. The sight of him made her knees weak, but she forced herself to stand tall, though every part of her wanted to crumble.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, staring out into the abyss. His posture was stiff, rigid, as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and would never lift.
Aureth's breath caught in her throat. "Lyros… please… forgive me…"
His head turned, slowly. His eyes, empty of the love they once held, locked onto hers. The silence between them was suffocating, but she couldn't break it. Not yet.
"You think I could forgive you?" he asked, his voice cold and distant. There was no warmth left in it—no trace of the man she had loved. "You think you can just walk in here, after everything you did, and ask for forgiveness?"
Aureth's heart shattered. The words hit her like a slap, each one colder than the last. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. The walls of her mind were closing in, and the weight of everything she had done—the choices she had made, the actions she had taken, the lies she had told herself to justify it all—was crushing her.
She staggered forward, desperate to reach him, to hold him, to beg for even the smallest hint of the man she had lost. "I never meant for this to happen, Lyros. You have to believe me. I never wanted you to suffer. I never wanted you to die."
But Lyros didn't move. He just stood there, looking at her with eyes that were colder than the wind howling around them.
"You think I don't know that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't know you didn't mean for it to happen?" He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter, as though the sound was coming from the depths of a broken heart. "It doesn't matter, Aureth. The truth is, you made me do it. You pushed me to fight. You forced me to choose between you and everything I believed in."
Aureth's throat tightened. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come.
"I never wanted you to die, Lyros," she managed to choke out. "I just… I thought it would be the last battle. I thought if we ended it, we could be together. I thought if I convinced you, if I pushed you—"
"You pushed me to my death," he cut in, his voice sharper than the wind. "You pushed me, and now look where we are. You think you can justify it by pretending it was for us? It wasn't. It was for your own selfishness. You couldn't live with the idea of losing. You couldn't stand the thought of us being broken. So you forced me to fight. And in the end, it was me who paid the price."
The words stung, each one an accusation, each one a knife buried deep in her chest. Aureth wanted to reach out, to beg him to stop, but the truth was unbearable. The memory of that day, the last battle, the moment she had watched him fall—she had been the one who had sent him to his death. She had been the one who had pulled him into the conflict, convinced him that they could still win, convinced him that it would all be worth it.
But it hadn't been worth it.
Her hands shook as she reached out, her voice breaking. "Please, Lyros, please… I didn't know. I didn't understand what I was asking you to do. I thought we could make it through. I thought—"
"You thought wrong," he spat, his voice rising in fury. "You were so wrapped up in your own dreams, in your own desires, that you never once stopped to think about the cost. You never thought about how it would tear us apart."
Aureth's knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, her sobs raw and desperate. She had always known, deep down, that this was the price she would have to pay. She had known that her actions had led them here, but hearing it from him, the one person she had loved more than anyone else—it was unbearable.
Lyros took a step forward, and his eyes locked onto hers, filled with an intense, burning fury. "You will always carry this, Aureth. You will always live with the weight of what you've done. And no matter how many times you try to make amends, no matter how hard you try to prove you're sorry… I will never forgive you."
Aureth's chest tightened as though the very air around her was suffocating her. His words were a brand on her soul, marking her with the truth she had tried to deny for so long.
"You killed me," he repeated, his voice steady now, but still filled with an unrelenting bitterness. "And you will never escape it. I will haunt you for the rest of your life. You will carry my death with you always. That is the punishment you deserve."
The words shattered her. She felt them sink deep into her heart, deeper than any wound, deeper than any pain she had ever known. She had already lost him once, but now, he was lost to her forever—his love, his forgiveness, all out of reach.
"You'll never be free of this," he added, his voice a whisper now, almost mocking. "And you'll never make it right. Because in the end, you didn't save me. You condemned me."
She could hardly breathe, her lungs tight and burning from the effort. The image of him standing there—broken, bitter, and filled with hatred—was too much. Every fiber of her being screamed to make it stop, to undo the damage she had done, but there was no escaping this moment. No retreat.
Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as they pressed into the cold, rocky earth. She had never imagined she would hear him speak like this. She had lived through the years of grief, the years of pretending she could keep moving forward, but now, faced with the raw truth of her actions, the truth that had been buried deep inside her all this time, she felt as though her very soul was being torn apart.
Her tears began to fall, hot and unchecked, streaking down her face. She didn't care anymore. She didn't care who saw her. Lyros was dead. Her daughter, Lyanna, was gone too, ripped away from her in the cruelest of ways. And all because of a single, ill-fated choice she had made.
"I never meant to…" she choked, her voice barely audible through the storm of emotion that overwhelmed her. "I never meant to… kill you. I never meant for it to happen, Lyros. I was just… I was just so scared. So lost."
Aureth reached out in desperation, trying to grasp at the air around her, but her fingers curled into fists as she fell forward. She pressed her forehead to the ground, her sobs wracking her body, her chest heaving as the grief broke free, raw and uncontrollable.
"I miss you so much," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "I miss you every single day. Life without you… without both of you… has been so miserable. I don't even know how to breathe without you here. You were my world, Lyros. I can't… I can't believe you're gone."
The words tumbled out of her like a flood, all the pain, all the heartache, every lost moment between them. She could feel her heart breaking again as she spoke of their daughter, Lyanna. The pain of losing her had been a wound that had never healed. The grief of that day, when they took her from them, was a dark shadow that had followed Aureth for so long that it had nearly consumed her.
"You never got to meet her, Elysara," Aureth whispered through her tears. "My granddaughter… She's all I have left now. She's the reason I keep going. I thought if I could protect her, if I could give her a better future, it would make up for all that I lost. But it's never enough, Lyros. It's never enough."
Her sobs grew louder, as though the very air was heavy with the weight of her guilt. She could feel the world closing in on her, the trial itself pressing in on her from all sides, demanding that she face the truth.
But the more she cried, the more her grief poured out, the clearer it became. This trial, the one she was facing, wasn't about her guilt or the consequences of her actions. It was about finally finding the strength to admit what she had done—to face the truth head-on.
Lyros' eyes softened just the slightest, but the bitterness remained.
"You still think you can make it right?" he asked, his voice quieter now. His gaze flickered toward the ground, as though he were searching for something that wasn't there. "It's too late for that. You can't undo what's been done."
Aureth's chest tightened as the guilt gnawed at her insides, threatening to swallow her whole. But she couldn't stay here, broken. She couldn't live with the idea of staying trapped in this cycle of guilt and despair. She had to fight.
"No, I can't undo it," she said, her voice shaky but resolute. "But I never meant for any of it to happen. I never wanted to cause you pain, Lyros. I loved you. I always loved you."
Her tears flowed freely now, but her voice was stronger, filled with a quiet determination.
"I made a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake. And I'll never stop regretting it. But I swear to you—no, I swear to myself—that I'll keep moving forward."
She stood, the weight of her words settling into her chest like a heavy stone. She didn't know how long she had been standing there, facing him, but the pain in her heart had shifted. It was no longer just the unbearable weight of guilt. It was something else—something she hadn't felt in so long: a glimmer of resolve.
"I didn't kill you on purpose, Lyros," she said, her voice steady now. "And I'll carry that guilt with me for as long as I have breath in my body. But I won't be consumed by it. I refuse to let it define me. I refuse to let it ruin what I have left to give."
Lyros stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly, the darkness around him seemed to shift, just a little, like a heavy fog lifting.
"I see," he said, his voice quiet.
"I will make sure that those who come after me don't have to make the same mistakes. I will honor you, Lyros. I will honor the life we had."
For a moment, Lyros stood in silence, and then, with a soft sigh, he seemed to fade into the darkness. His image wavered, became less solid, until there was nothing left but the lingering echo of his words.
"You will always carry it," his voice whispered as he disappeared. "But you are stronger than I gave you credit for."
Aureth stood there, her heart still heavy but now tempered by something stronger—something that had been buried beneath the weight of her guilt for so long. She had survived the trial. She had faced the truth and spoken it aloud.
And now, the world around her began to change. The mist that had surrounded her lifted, revealing a glowing shard. Aureth stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached for it, the warm light of the shard filling her palm.
As her fingers closed around it, the world around her seemed to dissolve, leaving only silence and the faintest whisper in the air.
"One trial down," the voice said softly. "Nine more to go."
Aureth inhaled sharply, her heart still racing. She had completed the first trial, but she knew that the path ahead would only get harder. She had made it through this trial, but there were nine more to face—nine more trials that would test her in ways she couldn't even imagine.
But she was ready.
She had to be.
With the shard in hand, she steadied herself and stepped forward into the darkness.