The streets of the Crownless City stretched endlessly before Aeren, twisting like a living maze. Shadows shifted independently of their owners, whispering secrets he could almost understand. Each step he took made the cobblestones beneath him hum faintly, as if reacting to his presence.
Lysara's shadow followed closely, stretching like a protective shroud. "This city tests everyone," she said. "But for you, ash-touched, the trial is personal."
"What… what do you mean?" Aeren asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
"You cannot simply move through here unnoticed," Lysara explained. "The city knows you are new, and it will probe you. Every corner holds a reflection of what you fear most… or what you might become."
Aeren swallowed hard. He had survived the Hollow Seas, but this… this felt different. The air was heavy, alive, pressing against his chest like water. He felt as if the city itself were examining him, weighing him, deciding whether he would survive.
They turned a corner and entered a courtyard bathed in a pale, unnatural light. At its center was a pool of black water, shimmering faintly with silver threads. As they approached, figures began to emerge from its depths—shapes indistinct yet human, their eyes glowing faintly with memories that were not their own.
"Cinder Echoes," Lysara whispered. "They are fragments of memory, remnants of those who have been lost. They are harmless unless provoked… but they will test you. You must face them."
Aeren felt his stomach twist. The echoes moved toward him, silent and deliberate. He raised his hands instinctively, sparks of ash leaping from his palms. The echoes recoiled, then advanced again.
"You see?" Lysara said. "Your magic affects them, but every strike costs you something."
Aeren blinked. Already, he felt a hollow space in his mind—a memory lost, though he did not know what it had been. Fear surged, but he forced himself to focus. He could not afford hesitation.
One echo stepped forward—a young girl, eyes wide with fear and recognition. She reached for him. Aeren instinctively struck, a burst of ash erupting from his hands. The girl dissipated into silver mist. He stumbled back, heart hammering.
"You see the cost," Lysara said quietly. "Each spell burns a piece of yourself. Your mind… your memories… even your identity can be claimed if you are careless."
Aeren nodded, swallowing the rising panic. He had to control it. He had to survive.
The echoes advanced again, faster this time, shapes forming into familiar faces—a brother he had never had, a woman he did not recognize but whose eyes sparked a strange familiarity. Each strike of his magic drained him further, the hollow in his chest growing.
Hours passed, though time behaved strangely here. He lost track of steps, of breaths, of memories. And then, just as he felt he could not endure another moment, the echoes recoiled and vanished, leaving the pool of black water still and silent once more.
Aeren fell to his knees, gasping. His hands trembled, sparks of ash still drifting from his palms. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that the trial was not yet over. The city itself seemed to whisper in a language he could not fully understand—a warning or a promise, he could not tell.
"You have survived," Lysara said, offering him her hand. "But only barely. The first trial is never the hardest. It is only the beginning."
Aeren took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. He felt hollow, drained, yet a small spark of determination remained. He had survived the Hollow Seas, faced the Crownless City, and endured his first trial. He would endure more. He had no choice.
From the shadows, a figure watched. Seraphae's golden eyes gleamed faintly from a distant balcony, her smile calm and knowing. The ash-touched boy was learning, and she intended to test him further.
"You are stronger than I expected," she murmured to herself. "But strength alone is not enough. He must understand the cost… or be destroyed."
Aeren looked toward the horizon, toward the towers and bridges of the Crownless City. He did not know what awaited him next—assassins, magic traps, betrayal, or worse—but he felt the first real weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders.
The trial had begun, and the city was watching.
Chapter 4 End Hook:
A shadow detached itself from a nearby tower, moving with purpose. Its eyes glowed with faint golden light. Seraphae's emissary had arrived. The next trial would not test just Aeren's magic… it would test his very soul.