Caelum fell without falling.
There was no wind. No weight. No sky. Only the sensation of being pulled through light—gold on one side, violet on the other—twisting together like two rivers battling for the same path.
Then the world reformed beneath his feet.
He stood on a vast, empty plane of shimmering glass. Above him stretched a sky of swirling constellations, each star shifting like a living eye. The horizon curved impossibly far, as if he stood inside a colossal sphere. Everything hummed with ancient power.
This was not space. Not dream. Not illusion.
This was the Astral Threshold.
A voice spoke behind him.
"You came sooner than expected."
Caelum turned.
A figure shaped from starlight watched him. It was humanoid but not human—faceless, weightless, a silhouette of shifting galaxies. It carried no weapon, yet its presence radiated judgment.
"Are you the one delivering this trial?" Caelum asked.
"I am the Threshold Warden," the entity answered. "Only one who carries the Starfire Arcana may stand here."
Caelum steadied his breath. "What must I do?"
The Warden lifted a hand. The glass floor rippled like disturbed water.
"Face what you fear," it said. "Face what you deny. Face what you desire. Only then will the Crown deem you worthy."
Before Caelum could reply, the world shattered.
Cracks raced across the ground. Light burst through. Caelum fell—again—and landed on stone.
A familiar stone.
He stood in the courtyard of Celestara Spire.
Except it wasn't real. The sky glowed wrong. The walls shimmered. And the air stank of burning mana.
A scream tore through the illusion.
Lyra.
Caelum ran toward the sound. Rounding a corner, he froze.
Lyra lay on her knees, flames flickering weakly around her, a gash across her side. Astra fought a monstrous void-beast nearby, lightning crackling erratically from her gauntlets. Seraphine knelt over Elowen, whose eyes were closed, vines limp around her wrists.
"Caelum," Lyra whispered, lifting her head. "You should have come sooner."
He rushed forward—but a wall of violet light slammed down, blocking him.
The Warden's voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere.
"This is the fear you carry. That your choices doom those who orbit you."
Caelum slammed his fist against the barrier. "Let me through!"
"You cannot save illusions," the Warden said. "Only confront the truth."
The void-beast lunged, crushing Seraphine beneath a shadowed limb. Astra screamed as darkness wrapped around her throat. Lyra reached for Caelum as violet fire swallowed her.
He couldn't breathe.
"This isn't real," he choked. "This isn't real."
"Then why does your heart break as if it were?"
Caelum closed his eyes. He inhaled—and let the Starfire rise.
The golden blaze exploded from him. The barrier cracked. The illusions dissolved like smoke in wind, leaving behind only silence.
When he opened his eyes, he stood once more on the glass plain.
The Warden regarded him. "Fear acknowledged. But fear is only the first gate."
The world shifted again.
Now Caelum stood in darkness. Not empty darkness—pressing, crushing, alive. He felt eyes watching him from the void.
Then he heard a whisper.
"You don't belong here, Caelum."
A second voice joined. "You don't deserve them."
A third. "You are a burden they pretend not to carry."
The voices grew louder, layering atop one another, forming a chorus that suffocated.
He recognized them.
His own voice.
The Warden spoke. "These are the truths you deny. Your doubt is louder than your fire."
Caelum clenched his fists. "I know I'm not perfect. I know I make mistakes. But I won't let these shadows define me."
The darkness hissed.
He summoned the Etherblade. Starfire roared to life. He sliced through the void—and light flooded the space until the shadows recoiled, shrieked, and vanished.
The plane returned again.
The Warden nodded. "Two gates passed. Only one remains."
This time, Caelum stood in a quiet meadow. Moonlight washed over him. Fireflies drifted lazily.
Someone stood at the center.
Aradia.
But not the wounded, trembling girl from the infirmary. This Aradia glowed with celestial power, hair floating like stardust, eyes burning with violet fire.
"You came," she said softly.
"What is this?" Caelum asked.
"The final trial," Aradia murmured. "Desire."
She stepped forward. "You long for answers. For belonging. For connection. For a path that makes sense. For someone who understands you."
She reached out, fingertips brushing his.
"And you could have all of it. Here. With me. With the Crown."
Her touch sent warmth spiraling through him. The meadow pulsed with soothing light. Peace settled over him like a soft blanket.
He could stay.
He could stop running.
He could stop being afraid.
"Choose me," Aradia whispered. "Choose the Crown. Choose ease."
Caelum's eyes lowered.
Then he stepped back.
"No."
Aradia froze.
He shook his head. "I won't choose peace if it means abandoning who I care about. I won't choose power if it means losing myself."
The illusion flickered.
"I don't want an easy path," Caelum said. "I want the real one."
The meadow cracked.
The false Aradia dissolved.
The Warden appeared once more. "You have faced fear. You have faced truth. You have faced desire. The Crown has witnessed your choices."
The stars above him aligned, forming the outline of a radiant crown.
Light rained down.
"Caelum Vale," the Warden proclaimed, "the path to the Celestial Crown opens before you."
The light grew blinding.
And far away—beyond the Threshold, across realms—Lyra, Astra, Seraphine, Elowen, and Aradia felt it.
Caelum had reached the heart of the trial.
But the true test was only beginning