Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 43: TEMPLE OF TRIALS

Chapter 43: TEMPLE OF TRIALS

The clash of fragments sent a shockwave through the ancient chamber, hurling both Reed and Prince Tarrant backward as the crimson artifact pulsed with wild, untamed energy. Stone cracked beneath Reed’s body as he slammed against a pillar, the impact driving the air from his lungs in a violent exhale. Blood trickled down his temple, warm and thick.

Through the dust and chaos, Reed glimpsed Tarrant rising to his feet with unnatural grace, golden light from the Monarch fragment enveloping him like a second skin. Behind them, the battle between Reed’s warriors and Tarrant’s forces had devolved into desperate slaughter.

"My lord!"

A familiar voice cut through the din—Shia, his shadow-touched assassin, who had slipped into the temple unnoticed during the confrontation. She materialized from darkness itself, her obsidian daggers slick with fresh blood. Reed had assigned her to track the expedition separately, a contingency he was now grateful for.

"The temple’s collapsing," she hissed, eyes darting to where Tarrant stood preparing another assault. "We must retreat."

Before Reed could respond, a tremor more violent than the others split the floor between them and Prince Tarrant. The very foundation of the temple seemed to heave in protest at the convergence of fragment powers. With an ear-splitting crack, a chasm opened, swallowing the altar and the crimson fragment into darkness.

Tarrant’s inhuman scream of rage echoed off the walls as the chamber began to collapse. Stone fell like rain, crushing combatants from both sides indiscriminately.

"This way!" Shia grabbed Reed’s arm, pulling him toward a previously hidden passage that had been revealed by the shifting architecture. Behind them, Vex and Kalia—the only survivors of Reed’s original team—fought desperately to follow.

The last thing Reed saw before the passage sealed behind them was Prince Tarrant standing amid the collapse, golden light erupting from his fragment as he attempted to hold back the destruction through sheer force of will.

Darkness enveloped them, absolute and suffocating. Reed felt the stone beneath his feet vibrate with the distant rumble of the collapsing main chamber. His blue fragment cast the only light, its ethereal glow revealing the bloodied faces of his remaining companions.

"The others?" Reed asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Dead," Vex replied flatly, pressing a torn piece of cloth against a deep gash in her side. "Terras’ men too. The collapse took them all."

Kalia knelt, studying the strange markings that lined the walls of their new prison. "This passage wasn’t created by the collapse. It’s deliberate—part of the temple’s original design."

Reed nodded grimly. "A failsafe. Or another test."

As if responding to his words, the blue fragment pulsed, illuminating a path forward. The narrow corridor stretched into darkness, its walls covered in intricate inscriptions that seemed to shift when viewed directly.

"The fragment still seeks something," Reed muttered, feeling its pull. "The crimson artifact wasn’t the only prize here."

Shia moved beside him, her face half-hidden in shadow. "We should turn back. Find another way to the surface."

"There is no other way," Reed replied, his voice hardening. "And I won’t leave empty-handed. Not after what we’ve sacrificed."

The four survivors pressed forward, following the fragment’s guidance deeper into the temple’s hidden heart. The air grew thick with the scent of old stone and something else—a metallic tang that reminded Reed of blood.

After what seemed like hours, the passage opened into a circular chamber. Unlike the grand hall where they’d confronted Tarrant, this room was modest in size but perfect in symmetry. At its center stood a simple stone basin filled with clear water.

"What is this place?" Kalia whispered, her elven senses clearly disturbed by something unseen.

Before anyone could respond, the water in the basin began to glow with the same blue light as Reed’s fragment. Words appeared on the surface—not ripples, but actual text forming in the liquid itself.

"To proceed, knowledge must be sacrificed. A truth for a truth."

Reed approached cautiously, the fragment at his side pulsing in time with the glowing water. He’d encountered similar tests in the first temple—riddles and puzzles designed to evaluate worthiness.

"It wants information," he concluded. "Something personal. Something true."

Vex scoffed, her warrior’s instincts rejecting the very premise. "Speak to water? This is madness."

"This is the old magic," Kalia corrected. "The kind that existed before kingdoms and borders."

Reed stared into the basin, considering his options. The fragment wanted him to volunteer something—a truth he kept hidden. His mind raced through possibilities, calculating which revelation would satisfy the test while exposing the least vulnerability.

"I—" he began, but Shia stepped forward, cutting him off.

"The pragmatic approach won’t work here," she said quietly, her eyes reflecting the blue glow. "The temple doesn’t want strategy. It wants sacrifice."

Reed turned to her, surprised by her insight. In the years since he’d rescued her from the slave pits of Azurehall, Shia had been his most effective killer, her shadow-touched abilities making her nearly invisible on missions requiring absolute stealth. But she’d never shown interest in the mystical aspects of his quest for power.

"You understand this place," he stated, not a question but a realization.

Shia nodded almost imperceptibly. "My family served as guardians for temples like this one, before the Purge. The old blood remembers, even when the mind forgets."

This was news to Reed—Shia had never spoken of her past before her enslavement. Another piece of her revealed, another layer uncovered.

She stepped closer to the basin, her voice taking on a resonant quality that seemed to harmonize with the chamber itself. "I offer the truth of my name—not Shia, but Shiandra val-Noctis, last daughter of the Temple Guardians of the Eastern Reach."

The water rippled, accepting her offering. The glow intensified, and the text changed.

"The path opens. Four trials await. Each must contribute. Each must surrender."

The floor beneath them shifted, revealing a staircase spiraling downward. Reed felt the fragment’s pull strengthen, urging him deeper into the temple’s bowels.

"Your turn will come," Shia said to Reed, reading his expression. "The temple will demand more from you than any of us."

The second chamber defied logic. Its walls were lined with mirrors, but each reflected a different scene from the viewers’ past. Reed saw himself as a child, watching his village burn as Azurehall troops slaughtered his family. Vex recoiled from her reflection, which showed her betrayal of her former commander—the act that had brought her into Reed’s service.

"Illusions," Kalia breathed, though her trembling hands betrayed her certainty.

"Memories," Shia corrected. "The temple draws them from us."

In the center of the room stood another basin, this one filled with what appeared to be quicksilver. The surface swirled with images too fast to comprehend, occasionally settling on moments of significance.

"To proceed, shame must be confronted. Witness truth without denial."

Reed approached the basin, understanding now that each challenge would grow more personal. The fragment at his side hummed with anticipation, its blue light merging with the silver surface of the liquid.

The basin settled on an image that made Reed’s heart constrict—himself standing over the bodies of innocents during his first campaign as a mercenary captain. He’d told himself then that they were necessary casualties in a greater war, that their deaths served a purpose. But the basin showed the truth he’d buried: he’d ordered their deaths not out of necessity, but convenience.

"I—" Reed faltered, the words thick in his throat.

"The temple requires acknowledgment," Shia said softly behind him. "Not justification."

Reed clenched his fists, fighting against his natural instinct to rationalize. "I killed them because it was easier than showing mercy," he finally admitted. "I became what I hated—another tyrant deciding who lived and who died."

The liquid rippled, accepting his confession. One by one, the others faced their own reflections, confronting buried truths with varying degrees of resistance.

When Vex finally surrendered her shame—betraying her lover to secure her own freedom—the floor shifted again, revealing a new passage.

"These trials," Reed muttered as they descended further. "They’re stripping us bare."

Shia nodded. "That’s precisely the point. The fragment cannot bond fully with one who wears masks."

The third chamber was a maze of shifting corridors, its walls lined with beaten copper that reflected distorted images of the visitors. At each intersection, spectral guardians materialized—faceless figures wielding weapons of pure energy.

"Combat," Vex said, a grim smile spreading across her scarred face. "Finally something straightforward."

But as she drew her blades and lunged at the nearest guardian, her weapon passed through it harmlessly. The spectre responded not with an attack, but by presenting her with a vision—a road not taken, a life she might have lived had she made different choices.

"Conviction, not combat," Shia explained, watching Vex struggle with the apparition. "The guardians test our certainty in our chosen paths."

One by one, they faced the spectres, each confronted with alternate lives of peace, prosperity, or power. Reed’s guardian showed him a throne room where he ruled as King of Azurehall, beloved by his subjects, his family still alive beside him.

The vision pulled at something deep within him—a longing for what might have been. For a moment, he felt his resolve waver.

"It’s not real," Kalia called out, breaking from her own trial. "Don’t lose yourself in the illusion!"

Reed forced himself to focus on what he’d built in Goblin’s Hollow, the power he’d claimed through sacrifice and will. With effort, he tore his gaze from the vision and drew his obsidian blade.

"I choose my path," he declared, driving the blade into the floor before the guardian. "Not the one that brings comfort, but the one that brings power."

The spectre dissolved, acknowledging his commitment. As the others completed their trials, a new passage appeared, descending even deeper.

The fourth chamber was unlike the others—a vast cavern whose ceiling was lost in shadow. The blue fragment’s light revealed a floor covered in ancient bones, the remains of those who had failed this final test.

At the center stood not a basin, but a mirror—a full-length obsidian slab that reflected nothing until they approached. As Reed stepped before it, the surface rippled and revealed not his reflection, but something else—a version of himself consumed by the fragment’s power, twisted and inhuman, his eyes pools of midnight, his skin cracked with veins of blue energy.

"Your potential," Shia whispered, standing at his side. "The being you may become if the fragment’s influence is unchecked."

The mirror-Reed smiled, revealing teeth sharpened to points. When it spoke, its voice echoed both in the chamber and inside Reed’s mind.

"I am your liberation," it said. "The version of you free from human weakness, free from mortality’s constraints."

Reed felt the fragment at his side pulse in recognition, as if greeting an old friend. The mirror-Reed extended a hand, inviting communion.

"Embrace what you will become," it urged. "Why resist the inevitable?"

Reed’s hand moved unconsciously toward the mirror surface, drawn by something beyond rational thought. The fragment’s power surged through his veins, enticing him with visions of godhood.

"Reed." Shia’s voice cut through the trance, her hand clasping his wrist. "Remember why you sought the fragments in the first place. Not to be consumed by them, but to use them."

The mirror-Reed snarled at her interruption, its face contorting with inhuman rage. "She fears our power," it hissed. "They all do. They would keep us leashed, when we could rule beyond the petty constraints of kingdoms and crowns."

Reed felt himself being pulled in two directions—toward the intoxicating promise of unlimited power, and back toward the humanity Shia represented. In that moment of clarity, he understood the final trial.

"You’re not my future," he told his reflection. "You’re my temptation."

Drawing his obsidian blade, Reed plunged it into the mirror’s surface. Instead of shattering, the obsidian rippled like water, the blade sinking deep into what should have been solid stone. His reflection howled in fury, its form dissolving into chaotic energy.

The fragment at Reed’s side pulsed once more, then settled into a steady glow. The mirror cleared, now showing not the monstrous version of himself, but a true reflection—Reed Nightblade, scarred and human, but with eyes that held the power he’d claimed through will alone.

Behind him, a new door materialized—a passage leading to what Reed somehow knew was the temple’s true heart.

"You chose humanity," Shia said quietly. "Few who seek the fragments make that choice."

Reed turned to her, seeing her clearly perhaps for the first time. "Humanity is not weakness," he replied. "It’s the source of my strength."

As they approached the final door, Reed felt the fragment’s power align with his own in a way it never had before—not as an external force, but as an extension of his will. Whatever waited beyond would test this new bond to its limits.

The door swung open, revealing a chamber bathed in crimson light. At its center floated the artifact they had sought—the red fragment—now freed from the altar that had housed it. But beyond it stood a figure that made Reed’s blood run cold.

"Impossible," he breathed.

Before them stood Reed’s long-dead father, his body bearing the fatal wounds inflicted by Azurehall soldiers two decades earlier. But his eyes glowed with an inner light that had nothing to do with life or humanity.

"Son," the figure said, its voice a terrible approximation of familiarity. "I’ve waited so long for you to join me."

Behind Reed, he heard Shia draw her daggers. "That’s not your father," she whispered urgently. "It’s the temple’s final guardian—wearing the face it knows you cannot strike."

The fragment at Reed’s side pulsed with warning as the thing wearing his father’s face took a step forward, leaving bloody footprints on the ancient stone.