I barely dodged its attack, stumbling sideways as a blade of shadow sliced through the space where my head had been. The ring flashed, not with light, butfeeling,and a tendril of power lashed out without my command. It struck the warrior in the chest, and he staggered, but he didn’t go down. He wasn’t even wounded.
I grit my teeth, forcing my fear down. If I were going to die, I would not die begging; I would burn. And if The Morrígan wanted to consume me, she’d have to choke on the flames.
The second shadow fighter circled me, its blade whistling through the air. I spun, instinct taking over, and the ring erupted with raw magic. It wasn’t the controlled power I was used to, but something wild and desperate. The force slammed into the ghostly figure, and this time it dissolved, wisps of darkness scattering like dust.
“Better,” The Morrígan said, her voice carrying approval that made my skin crawl. “But can you maintain it?”
Three more shadows peeled away from the tree, their forms more solid than the others. They weren’t just echoes of the dead; they were champions, warriors who had faced her and been defeated.
I couldn’t explain how I knew, only that I did.
Their phantom armor shone, and their weapons sang with murderous intent. All three rushed me at once, and I raised my hand, letting the power of the ring flow through me. One dissolved immediately. Another stumbled back, his shadow-flesh cracking and reforming.
But the third got through.
His blade sliced across my thigh, and I cried out. It didn’t hurt, not exactly. A bone-deep chill spread from the wound, but it wasn’t blood that welled up. It was something thicker, darker.
“First blood,” The Morrígan said, her voice everywhere at once. “How sweet it tastes.”
I clutched my leg, watching in horror as dark veins crept out of my split flesh, spreading like poisoned roots beneath my skin. The shadow warrior raised his blade again, satisfaction in his featureless face.
Something inside me snapped.
“No,” I growled, and the ring quivered. “You will not be my end.”
I didn’t think. I just moved.
My hand shot out and closed around the warrior’s sword, my palm meeting the black mist. But instead of slicing through my flesh, the weapon shuddered in my grip and… unraveled.
The darkness bled away between my fingers, as if the ring’s magic rejected it outright. Power surged up my arm, sharp and unrelenting, threading through my veins with a force that refused to be denied.
The phantom hissed, its form flickering as the remaining shadow warriors faltered, their steps hesitant.
The Morrígan’s smile faded, her eyes narrowing. “Interesting.”
Magic spread throughout my body, and for the first time since the trial began, I felt something other than terror. The inky tendrils creeping up from my wound retreated, hissing as they collided with the power of the ring.
I straightened, testing my weight on my injured leg.
It held.
The Morrígan raised both hands, and the twisted tree behind her groaned. Its branches writhed, stretching toward me like grasping fingers. The bark split with a sickening crack, revealing veins of black-red sap that pulsed like open wounds.
The tree wasn’t just alive… It was feeding, drawing power from the battlefield, the shadows, the fear thick in the air.
Dark, feathered shapes unfurled along the limbs. Ravens. So many ravens, silent and watching.
The branches continued to reach for me, bending with unnatural fluidity as if they could scent the blood on my skin.
I stumbled back, my heart pounding, but the ring on my finger flared again — not cold this time, but burning, as if something inside it had been provoked.
Awakened.
A shrieking storm of feathers erupted from the tree.
They didn’t just fly.
Theydescended.
