Light consumed him. It wasn't the warm glow of the sun or the flickering brightness of Valenyr—it was blinding, cold, and alive. Every nerve in Calypsius's body screamed as he passed through the ga, the air around him vibrating like the hum of a thousand voices speaking in unison. He couldn't tell if his feet still touched the ground or if he was falling endlessly into the void.
Then, suddenly, the sensation stopped.
He stumbled forward, gasping, and the brightness dimmed to a soft, ethereal glow. When he opened his eyes, the world around him was completely transformed.
A vast expanse stretched out before him, unlike anything he had ever seen. The sky was an ever-shifting gradient of colors—purple, silver, and gold—while the ground beneath his feet shimmered like liquid glass. Towering spires of crystalline rock rose in the distance, their surfaces pulsating with a faint inner light. The air itself was thick, charged with energy, and the silence was deafening.
"Where am I?" Calypsius whispered, though he doubted anyone could hear him.
As if in response, Valenyr began to glow brighter, the sword vibrating softly in his hand. The light from the blade seemed to resonate with the world around him, rippling out in waves that made the ground beneath him pulse.
A voice echoed in the distance, faint but unmistakable. "You have come far, Chosen."
Calypsius turned sharply, his grip tightening on Valenyr. The voice was deep and resonant, but its source was nowhere to be seen. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice echoing across the strange expanse.
There was no immediate answer. Instead, the ground before him began to shift, the liquid-glass surface rising and twisting until it formed a shape—a figure. It was humanoid but indistinct, its body composed entirely of light and shadow.
"Do not be afraid," the figure said, its voice calm and commanding. "You stand at the threshold of truth, Calypsius. You have taken the first step toward fulfilling your purpose."
"My purpose?" Calypsius repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "I didn't step through that gate to play into someone else's plan. Who are you, and what do you want from me?"
The figure tilted its head, its form flickering slightly. "I am a guide, nothing more. You have questions, and I am here to offer answers. But first, you must understand: the path you walk is not one of chance. The blade you carry, the choices you have made—they were no accidents."
Calypsius frowned, his pulse quickening. "You mean Valenyr? The sword chose me. The elders said it was meant to protect the balance of life, to be careful of how dangerous it is."
The figure seemed to regard him silently for a moment before responding. "The Elders told you part of the truth, but not all. Valenyr is not merely a weapon—it is a key. And like all keys, it must unlock something."
A chill ran down Calypsius's spine. "Unlock what?"
The figure stepped closer, and for a moment, its glowing form flickered, revealing something darker, more solid beneath the light. "A door. A prison. A power greater than you can imagine. Valenyr was forged to keep it sealed, but its true purpose lies in your hands. You must decide whether to wield it as a shield… or a weapon."
Calypsius felt the weight of the sword in his hand as if it had grown heavier. "And what happens if I choose wrong?"
"Then the world as you know it will cease to exist."
The bluntness of the answer left him reeling. His mind raced with questions, but before he could voice them, the figure raised a hand.
"Your questions are valid, but time is short. Even now, the Shrouded Court moves to breach the veil, to claim the power they seek. They have twisted shadows to their will, but they cannot claim the light. That is why they need you."
"They need me?" Calypsius asked, his voice rising with frustration. "Why? I didn't ask for any of this. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do!"
"You are the Chosen, Calypsius," the figure said simply. "Not by chance, but by design. Your bloodline carries a bond to the light, a connection to Valenyr that no other possesses. The Court will try to exploit that bond, to bend you to their will. But you must resist."
The ground beneath them began to tremble, faint at first but growing stronger with each passing moment. The sky above shifted violently, the colors darkening as shadows began to seep into the glowing expanse.
"They are coming," the figure said, its voice suddenly urgent. "This place will not remain safe for long."
"What am I supposed to do?" Calypsius shouted over the rising noise.
The figure extended a hand, and a faint light emanated from its palm. "Seek the Eternal Spire. It is there that you will find the answers you seek—and the truth of Valenyr's purpose. But beware, Calypsius. The closer you come to the Spire, the stronger the pull of the sword will become. You must remain steadfast, or it will consume you."
Before Calypsius could respond, the ground beneath him erupted. Shadows burst forth, coalescing into familiar, monstrous forms. The air grew colder, and the light around them dimmed.
"Go!" the figure commanded, its form beginning to dissolve. "Follow the light. It will guide you."
The next thing Calypsius knew, the ground opened beneath him, and he was falling again, the world spinning into chaos. The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him was Valenyr, glowing brighter than ever, as if urging him onward.
The surge of power faded, leaving Calypsius standing in the aftermath of the attack. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and the faint glow of Valenyr seemed to flicker like a fading ember. Ellara staggered beside him, wiping blood from a shallow cut on her cheek. Around them, the clearing was littered with the ash and shattered remnants of the Voidspawn, the air thick with the acrid scent of magic and decay.
"Are you all right?" Calypsius asked, his voice hoarse.
Ellara nodded, though her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. "I'll live. But that wasn't just a test. Whoever sent those creatures—they wanted to kill us."
Calypsius stared down at Valenyr, the blade still warm in his grip. The sword had saved him once again, but its power felt… strained. The sigils along his arms, faint and uneven, pulsed weakly as though they too were recovering from the battle.
"They're getting bolder," he murmured. "The Shrouded Court isn't hiding in the shadows anymore."
Ellara sheathed her dagger, her gaze scanning the darkened forest. "This was no accident. The figure we faced—it wasn't just some pawn. That was one of their agents, a conduit of their will. They're not going to stop until they take Valenyr."
Calypsius tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword. "Then they'll have to try harder."