The wind howled low through the ravine, carrying with it the scent of charred earth and something more ancient something watching. Thalen adjusted the strap of his sword across his back, the weight of it a familiar anchor against the rising unease in his chest. The sky had long since turned a dull, iron-gray, dimming the world beneath a veil of cloud. Even the sun dared not shine here.
They had arrived at the edge of the Wraithlands the unclaimed stretch of barren wilderness where, decades ago, tyrants had once clashed. It was said that this was where the first wielder of the Tyrant's Spirit had awakened. Now, what remained was a land scorched of life and purpose, as if the aura itself had been stripped from the soil.
Beside Thalen, Corin stood silently, eyes scanning the empty horizon. Behind them, Selene crouched, examining a series of claw marks gouged into a blackened stone.
"We're being watched," she murmured, her fingers tracing the grooves.
Thalen nodded. "I feel it too. It's been following us since the ridge."
Corin's voice was low. "It doesn't feel like a beast."
"It isn't." Thalen turned, gaze drawn to a shadow near the base of a jagged cliff. There, half-buried beneath years of dirt and ash, stood a monolith pitch black, pulsing faintly. His aura stirred the moment his eyes met it.
"That wasn't on the map," Selene said, rising.
"Neither were the bones we passed a mile back," Corin added. "But here we are."
Thalen stepped toward it. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, but he didn't. The blade on his back vibrated not with fear, but anticipation. The Blade Aura within him churned as if recognizing something older than time.
When his fingers touched the monolith, a cold shock ran through his veins, and the world spun.
He stood in a battlefield. But not in the present in memory. The sky above was cracked open with threads of red lightning, and below, Titans of aura clashed. One wielded a blade that screamed with blue fire. The other cloaked in robes that bent light around him stood with hands clasped, unmoving. And yet the power that radiated from him dwarfed even the flaming sword.
Thalen gasped as pain flooded his head. The vision shattered.
He was back in the Wraithlands, breath ragged.
"Thalen!" Selene caught him as he stumbled.
"I… I saw them. Two Tyrant Spirit wielders. Maybe from the Tyrant Wars."
Corin looked at the monolith, face grim. "This place is cursed."
"No," Thalen said, voice firm now. "It's a memory sealed in aura. Someone wanted this to be found."
Selene studied the monolith. "What does it mean?"
Thalen turned his eyes to the east. "It means the path ahead is more dangerous than we thought. Whatever test the Tyrant Spirit is preparing us for... we haven't seen anything yet."
By nightfall, they made camp near a dry outcropping. Selene lit a small, smokeless flame with her Ember Aura, and Corin warded the area with his Earthbind constructs. Thalen sat slightly apart, his blade across his knees.
He kept replaying the vision. The aura used by the robed figure it wasn't like anything he had ever seen. Not fire, wind, or blade. Not even Tyrant. It was something purer. More absolute.
Selene broke his thoughts. "You've been quiet since the monolith."
Thalen looked at her. "I think the Tyrant Spirit… it's not just power. It's memory. Legacy. Burden."
Corin sat across from them. "I still don't understand why we were chosen. We passed the exam, sure, but it wasn't just about strength. It felt… personal."
Thalen nodded. "Because the Tyrant Spirit doesn't respond to ambition alone. It chooses those who've stood at the edge of defeat and kept walking."
Selene stared into the flames. "Then we'd better keep walking."
At dawn, they resumed their path through the ravine, unaware that a figure watched from the cliffs above cloaked in gray, face hidden behind a mask of bone. He carried no weapon, but his aura flickered like a storm wild, restrained only by will. This was no beast of the Wraithlands.
This was the first trial.
And he had been waiting for them.
They didn't see him until they emerged from the final bend in the gorge. The man stood alone before a cracked statue of an ancient hero its arm outstretched, sword long rusted away.
Corin slowed. "You see that?"
Selene drew her short blades. "He's not just standing there. He's guarding it."
Thalen stepped forward. "Let me try first."
The moment he crossed an invisible line, the figure moved.
One step and in that step, the air changed. His aura exploded outward in a ring of pressure, enough to crack the ground.
Thalen gritted his teeth. "That… that's not Tyrant Spirit."
Selene shouted, "Be careful! That's a Warden's Aura!"
The figure raised one hand, and the air distorted.
Thalen moved.
Their blades met in a flash of sparks, and the shockwave knocked dust from the cliffs above. The Warden was fast inhumanly so but Thalen's Blade Aura amplified his instincts. Every movement felt like water flowing through steel.
Still, he was outmatched.
The Warden didn't speak. His strikes were efficient, relentless. He was testing, measuring, and judging. Not just Thalen's skill but his intent.
Blood welled on Thalen's shoulder as a strike slipped through. He dropped, rolled, and surged forward, blade flashing in a rising arc.
The Warden caught the strike with his bare palm.
Thalen's eyes widened.
But before he could react, the Warden released him and stepped back.
He bowed, slowly, and then without a word vanished.
Selene and Corin rushed to Thalen's side.
"He let me live," Thalen said through gritted teeth.
"He was never trying to kill you," Corin said. "He was testing your resolve."
Selene looked toward the cracked statue. "I think we just passed our first true trial."
Thalen stood slowly, gaze fixed where the Warden had stood.
There would be more trials. Stronger foes. He could feel it now the rhythm of the world shifting.
And somewhere in the shadows of that shift, the Tyrant Spirit was watching.