Chapter 62 - We survive

  An endless stretch of grass rippled at the horizon.

  But instead of one sun, the sky held six—

  Six blinding, merciless suns hanging in a perfect arc above her.

  They bathed the entire field in scorching gold, so bright it painted every blade of grass in shimmering light.

  Scattered across the expanse were ruins, small houses, or the remnants of them, structured at random angles, all carved from pale white stone. They looked ancient, forgotten, left behind by something that no longer cared for them.

  Where—?

  Princess Ariel tried to push herself upright and realized she was already on her knees.

  When had she—?

  The ground beneath her palms was warm.

  Her vision blurred. The world swayed. A dull ache throbbed through her limbs as though her bones were humming.

  Yet beneath that pain…

  She felt warm.

  And she looked up.

  Six suns… why were there six suns?

  She looked across the grasslands, taking in everything: the impossible sky, the ruined stone houses, the shimmering horizon that bent under the weight of too much light.

  Then a voice rang through her head.

  Her own voice.

  But twisted. Hollow

  Speaking words she had never spoken.

  [Apostle of Sol.

  Your trial begins.]

  The words didn't echo. They simply were carved directly into her thoughts.

  A second later, she heard another message, and this time Ariel felt something watching. Not one thing. Many. Countless eyes turning toward this place, toward her.

  [Many Gods are watching]

  ***

  Ryn woke with his face pressed into warm grass.

  For a moment, he didn’t move. His mind felt slow, thick—until the ache along his ribs reminded him. He pushed himself upright using his one remaining arm, breath hitching as pain flared down his side.

  He rose slowly.

  Then a voice greeted him.

  His voice.

  But twisted—distorted—echoing through the air like something wearing his throat as a mask.

  It welcomed him.

  A cold pulse ran through him despite the warmth.

  He lifted his gaze.

  Six suns hung in a perfect arc across the sky, blazing white-gold.

  But the heat they should have produced… was wrong.

  The air wasn’t scorching. It wasn’t even hot.

  Just… warm.

  Artificial.

  Like an imitation of sunlight rather than the real thing.

  Ryn noticed something else.

  No wind.

  No breeze brushing across the endless grass.

  No shift of air, no whisper, no movement.

  It was unnatural.

  A world painted still.

  He scanned the landscape.

  Ruins of pale white stone littered the field—broken houses, collapsed towers, remnants flipped and scattered like discarded toys. Long abandoned, long forgotten.

  Then his eyes caught movement.

  A faint glimmer of gold.

  Ariel.

  She was on her knees, shoulders shaking with each breath.

  His grip tightened around the sword.

  She actually did it.

  A dull heaviness settled in his chest.

  So what now?

  He looked down at the stump where his arm ended.

  At his rusted blade.

  At the bruises darkening along his ribs.

  At Lilia, still lying unconscious, a few feet away.

  And finally, back at Ariel, panting, barely holding herself upright.

  Why?

  He exhaled sharply, breath tight in his throat.

  ***

  Lilia woke last.

  Her eyes fluttered open to a voice—her own voice—echoing inside her head, twisted and wrong.

  [Welcome, neophyte.

  Your trial begins.]

  The sound made her shiver violently.

  For a moment, she didn’t move at all.

  She just lay there, curled on the warm grass, trembling as the realization sank in.

  She was in the trial.

  This was it.

  Was she going to die here?

  The memory of the aberrations in the temple flashed through her mind—their eyes, their claws, the sounds they made—and her thoughts quaked with them. Her breathing hitched, sharp and unsteady.

  But even through the fear, she forced herself to move—pushing herself upright with shaking arms.

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  She looked up.

  And her breath caught.

  A little way ahead, she saw two familiar shapes—the dark hair of Ryn, the faint gold of Ariel.

  They were… arguing?

  Ryn's posture was rigid, Ariel trembling, both facing each other in the rippling grass.

  And then she saw Ryn’s expression.

  One she had never seen on him before.

  The sight of it made her chest tighten.

  ***

  His voice came out flat. Hollow.

  "What now?"

  ?Ariel found the expression wrong?—his brows drawn tightly together, his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted into something between a thin frown and something harder to name.

  When had she ever seen him like this?

  She always imagined nothing could shake him, that Ryn was the one person who stayed steady no matter what.

  But this expression…

  It felt wrong.

  Like it didn’t belong on his face at all.

  Why are you looking at me like that? she wondered.

  Her throat tightened painfully.

  He asked again.

  “What now, Ariel?”

  Ariel opened her mouth—

  to apologize, explain, justify—

  something.

  But what could she possibly say?

  I’m sorry I dragged you into a trial that might kill us.

  Nothing felt right. Nothing would be enough.

  So she turned her head away, unable to meet his eyes.

  “I’m sorry…” she whispered, voice breaking. “I couldn’t let you die there.”

  She tried desperately to stop the tears, to hold them back, but they spilled over anyway—hot, sharp, uncontrollable. She wiped at her face with her palm, the back of her hand, anything—

  But they kept coming.

  Ryn stepped a little closer.

  His eyes twitched—just barely.

  “I’ve sworn to protect you,” he said, voice low. “It’s my duty.”

  He knelt, closer now, close enough that she had no choice but to turn and face him.

  “So why throw yourself—or Lilia—into something like this!?”

  For a moment, Ariel just stared at him.

  Then her voice rose, sharper, cutting.

  Her hands trembled in her lap.

  The words came out strangled, almost a plea. She shook her head, something desperate clawing up her throat.

  "What happens next, then?" She leaned forward, eyes burning. "We escape. We leave you to die." Her voice grew sharper, more raw. "And then what? Next time, I let Lilia die instead?"

  Her breath came faster, words tumbling out in a rush.

  "And after that? I just keep running—keep watching everyone I care about die for me—until there's no one left?"

  Ryn's expression hardened, his stare unyielding.

  "If Lilia and I die protecting you, then so be it." His voice went flat. "That's our choice to make. Not yours."

  He paused, then spoke again.

  "And it's not your burden to carry."

  "It is my burden!" Ariel shouted back, louder now, her whole body trembling. "If both of you die—"

  Her voice cracked, and for a moment she couldn't speak. When she finally did, it came out barely above a whisper.

  “If both of you die, then none of this…!” She paused her voice, trembling even harder

  “None of this matters anymore.”

  Ryn's voice dropped.

  “So what now, Ariel?” he said, stepping closer till their faces were practically inches apart.

  "You've thrown all of us into death. So we die here together—is that what you wanted? To share a grave?"

  Ariel froze.

  Ryn’s voice dropped. more quiet:

  “Why won't you use me?”

  His hand gripped harder around his sword.

  “Protect yourself.”

  Silence.

  Ariel whispered something, too soft for him to catch.

  “What?”

  Then she muttered it again, louder, breaking:

  “I… can’t do that.”

  And then it finally tore out of her, raw and cracked:

  “I can’t!”

  Ryn’s grip tightened around his sword until his knuckles went white.

  “Why not, Ariel?”

  His voice was low, trembling despite his efforts to keep it steady.

  “Why didn’t you run when I gave you the chance?”

  He leaned closer. He saw the gold in her eyes.

  “Why did you drag the three of us into something you know we won’t come back from? You decided, for all of us, that we'd die here instead.”

  His eyes searched hers.

  "What do you want from me, Ariel?"

  Ariel didn’t respond.

  She couldn’t.

  There was nothing she could say.

  Before anything else could happen, a blur of silver hair darted between them.

  “Ryn—that’s enough.”

  Lilia’s voice cracked, but her stance held as she stepped into the space between them. Ryn looked away immediately, his jaw locking tight.

  Lilia turned back toward Ariel, as if trying to catch her eyes—but she couldn’t. Her gaze faltered, dropping to the floor as something in her expression collapsed.

  The silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating, swallowing all three of them.

  Lilia lifted her head again, squaring her shoulders, placing herself firmly between them. Then she met Ryn’s eyes.

  Her voice shook.

  “Why—why are you acting like it’s already over!?”

  She grabbed his shoulder, harder than she meant to.

  “Look around, Ryn !”

  “If you really want to protect us—protect Ariel—then why do you sound like that?” Her fingers tightened, desperation bleeding into her grip. “Why do you look like you’ve already given up?”

  Her voice broke.

  “Why are you acting like we’re already dead?”

  Lilia whispered, shaking. “We’re not dead yet.”

  Ryn finally turned to face her.

  Her eyes were exhausted, swollen from crying.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Her small frame trembled—

  she was scared, terrified—

  But she was right.

  Ryn stood completely still for a moment, the false wind brushing through the shattered grass around them.

  Then he slowly exhaled.

  Without a word, he lowered himself onto the ground.

  He hesitated, then sat crisscrossed in the soft grass.

  “Right,” he said quietly.

  Lilia dropped to her knees in front of him, her breathing still uneven but trying her best to stay steady.

  Ariel didn’t move at first.

  She was still trembling.

  But she forced herself to sit up straighter, wiping what remained of her tears.

  The three of them sat in silence for a long while.

  No words. No movement.

  Just their shallow breathing.

  Their eyes drifted slowly across the strange world around them—

  the six blazing suns overhead,

  the endless gold-washed grass,

  the warm wind brushing past their faces,

  and the pale white ruins scattered like forgotten bones across the field.

  Ryn breathed in again.

  The grip on his sword tightened—steady, determined.

  Till my last breath.

  Then he spoke, voice low but firm.

  “So… what’s the plan?”

  At first, Lilia didn’t answer.

  She just sat there, letting her eyes sweep over the impossible landscape once more—the six suns, the swaying grass, the warm wind, the pale white ruins.

  She looked back at Ryn and gave him a faint smile—small, fragile, but real.

  “We survive.”