The fractured battlefield lay silent for a heartbeat, but I knew better than to relax. Kaelith had vanished among the jagged stones, not defeated, only biding his time. The fragments pulsed faintly in my hands, almost like living hearts, whispering subtle temptations I could barely resist.
"Stronger… faster… claim your right…"
A tremor ran through my arms, and I clenched my fists. The whispers were growing more persistent, more insistent. Fire flared without command, water shimmered with restless energy, shadow tugged at my thoughts, and clarity pulsed nervously—as if warning me that the fragments themselves were beginning to test their bearer.
"You feel it, Eryndor," Lysara said softly, landing beside me. Her glow was dim, flickering faintly like a candle in the wind. "Every fragment demands more. They are alive, and they are aware. You have endured trials and battles, but this… this is the real cost. The fragments are beginning to change you."
I gritted my teeth. I had fought Kaelith, resisted Selvara's temptations, and survived the God of Trial. But now, alone, I felt the creeping strain—the subtle corruption forming within me. A tremor in my hands, fleeting shadows across my thoughts, whispers of ambition and power that I had resisted before.
And then I heard Kaelith's voice, low and mocking, carried on the wind. "Do you feel it, Eryndor? The hunger within. The fragments want more. You resist… but for how long? One misstep, and you will join me in ruin. One slip, and all you've spared will perish."
I pivoted sharply. The jagged stones around me shifted, revealing him once more. His armor gleamed black and gold, shadows swirling around him, flickering like living snakes. Kaelith's grin widened. "Did you think you could contain the fragments forever? That you could endure without cost? Foolish mortal."
I raised the shards, but even as I did, I felt the subtle toll. Fatigue, weakness, fleeting hallucinations of Kaelith standing victorious, whispers that questioned every choice I had made. The fragments pulsed harder, their hunger now impossible to ignore.
"You are stronger than most mortals," Lysara said, wings trembling. "But not immune. You must act carefully. One wrong choice, and you will become what Kaelith is. The fragments will bend you if you let them."
Kaelith lunged, shadows clawing outward like living tendrils. I countered, but the fragments seemed heavier, slower, as though they were testing my resolve. Flame flared, water flowed, shadow twisted—but each pulse drained me further, a subtle, creeping corruption I could neither fight nor flee.
"Endure," I whispered to myself, teeth gritted, heart pounding. "Endure… resist… endure."
The battle erupted anew, stone and shadow shattering under the clash of fragments and will. Kaelith's attacks were precise, honed by corruption and experience, but I matched them with restraint, strategy, and careful harmony of my fragments.
And yet, I knew the truth: the fragments were not merely tools. They were alive, testing me, probing the limits of my morality, my body, and my spirit. Each strike, each defense, each choice to resist the whispers chipped away at me, leaving faint cracks I could not yet see.
The whispers grew louder, blending with Kaelith's voice. "You are human, Eryndor. Weak. Fragile. Give in… claim the fragments… embrace power… abandon restraint…"
I gritted my teeth, focusing every ounce of will, balancing flame, water, shadow, and clarity. The fragments pulsed in perfect harmony—not yielding, not demanding, not corrupting… yet. But I felt it: the first true cracks within myself.
"You endure," Lysara whispered, softly but firmly. "But the Age of Gods is far from forgiving. The fragments will test you further. Kaelith is only the beginning. And one day… the gods themselves may challenge what you are becoming."
I nodded, exhaustion gnawing at my body and soul. Ahead, the jagged battlefield stretched endlessly, Kaelith lurking in the shadows, the whispers of the fragments growing louder with each passing heartbeat.
I was Eryndor, bearer of the Shattered Sky. Mortal, bridge, and now tested not only by enemies without, but by the corruption stirring within.
The Age of Gods was watching—and I could feel it: the true trials had only begun.