Trial Three was nothing like the others.
If the first had tested survival, and the second had tested will, then the third trial—this final gauntlet—tested soul.
The moment Verena and Isolde stepped through the threshold, everything changed. Gone were the glowing halls and labyrinthine corridors. Gone were the physical traps, elemental puzzles, and celestial beasts. Instead, they stood beneath an endless obsidian sky. The stars above blinked sluggishly, as if watching, waiting.
Below their feet: glass. Or what looked like glass. It reflected nothing but darkness, and yet every step echoed like a heartbeat.
Then came the pressure.
An overwhelming weight, like guilt condensed into atmosphere. Isolde straightened, fists clenching as though resisting something. Verena stumbled slightly before regaining her balance, her throat tightening around a sudden surge of emotion.
"Where… even are we?" Verena whispered.
