Soreia—essentially an undercover agent faking her identity since childhood—was usually calm. Years of living a lie, of wearing a dead girl's face and name, had honed her composure into something unshakable.
But when her gaze fell upon the statue in the center of the cavern, she couldn't help freezing in shock.
It was a jagged, twisting sigil—three interlocking crescents, their edges sharp as claws, encircling a single slit-pupiled eye. She had seen it before. Not in books, not in the archives of the Eyeris clan, but in her vague childhood memories in the organization...before being 'adopted'
She couldn't even explain why she was having such a visceral reaction to the sigil, perhaps there was some kind of subconscious trauma related to it?
The memory was hazy, buried under years of discipline and suppression, but it clawed its way to the surface now and practically had a vice grip around her neck, affecting her thoughts and breathing.
Nevertheless, she became even more certain that this inheritance had a lot more to it than met the eye.
She tried to school her expression, to remind herself she was alone and that panic would solve nothing. She had been trained for this moment. The organization had prepared her for this inheritance trial, whispering only that it was tied to an ancient power—one that could tip the scales in the coming war.
She had a job to do, and getting lost in memories won't help.
'Fortunately, I was in here alone. If I hadn't gotten rid of Kain he may have taken the opportunity just now to obtain the inheritance…'
Unfortunately, for her, she wasn't alone.
Serena stood in the shadows. Hidden just out of sight behind a curve in the cavern wall, still cloaked in a thin layer of spiritual power that kept the corrosive mist at bay, breathing quietly and observing everything.
She watched with cold eyes as Soreia froze—watched her expression twist into something that almost looked like fear. Serena didn't know the full story behind that expression, but she tucked the unusual reaction away to the back of her mind.
Soreia eventually pulled herself back. Straightened. Her breath came out shaky, but steadying.
She turned back to the statue.
The Thar'Ameth warrior towered over her—at least ten feet tall, carved from what looked like green-black obsidian streaked with veins of dark copper. The figure's body was lean but muscular, built like a predator adapted to life on a harsh and corrosive planet that tried to kill it every hour of every day. Scales had been sculpted in obsessive detail. Horns curled back from the warrior's brow like the crown of a king. One hand held a long hooked spear; the other was outstretched—offering something invisible.
The moment she stepped forward, the chamber changed.
The air thickened—humid, acidic. The faint scent of metal and bile filled her nose.
All light from the entrance was extinguished. The statue's outstretched palm began to glow from within—light seeping through the cracks in the fingers like magma leaking from a fractured stone.
Soreia Eyeris tensed, unsure what would come next.
Then she heard the voice.
"You stand before the Last Sentinel of Thar'Ameth," the statue spoke. "To claim our legacy, you must be suitable to carry the burden of our suffering. Of our sacrifices."
The statue's outstretched hand split open with a sound like cracking bone. From within, a single drop of black-gold liquid welled up, hovering in the air before Soreia.
"Drink," the voice commanded.
She had seen glimpses of the Thar'Ameth people in the previous trial—their bodies constantly emitting a corrosive acid, their blood a weapon. She really didn't want to consume this suspicious liquid…but she had no choice.
Fortunately, the organization had prepared her for this. They had promised her that the inheritance would recognize her. That she was destined for it…
Steeling herself, she leaned forward to drink the droplet.
The black-gold fluid touched her tongue and immediately began to spread throughout her body.
She had fully expected it to burn her from the inside out. She had braced herself for agony. Expected her throat to blister, her veins to dissolve, her insides to feel like they were being melted to mush while she endured the agony.
Where she expected corrosion, there was resonance. Like something inside her had recognized the blood and welcomed it.
Her body did not reject the inheritance. It accepted it—hungrily.
'They were right!' She thought in ecstasy. Confident that based on her vague childhood memories of that symbol, that whatever experiments she underwent in her youth were connected to this relic.
The faint acidic mist in the chamber thickened as if in response. Instead of irritating her lungs, it seemed to flow into her more easily, more naturally. Her skin tingled. The ambient corrosion no longer clung to her with menace. It felt like... home.
Tears began to well up in her eyes at the comforting and welcoming sensation.
As an imposter, naturally, her 'parents' had treated her differently from their real blood son. She'd never truly felt as though she had a home… never felt such a soul-deep comfort before.
For a moment, she thought—no, she believed—this was where she belonged.
That this power was her birthright.
That maybe, just maybe, the years of playing someone else had all been leading to this.
She didn't see Serena until it was too late.
A flicker of movement. A whisper in the mist.
Soreia screamed as a burst of spiritual energy slammed into her spine from behind.
Her knees buckled, her hands hit the floor, and for the first time, the warmth inside her twisted violently.
The droplet she had swallowed pulsed wrong—not with harmony, but with backlash.
The resonance shattered. The acceptance fractured.
What had been welcoming turned hostile.
Her veins ignited with a corrosive fire so intense it felt like her blood was trying to burn its way out.
And all she could see through her blurring vision was a pair of cold blue eyes.