The violet-lit stairs led to heat.
Not the comfortable warmth of a hearth or the dry heat of a desert — this was something ancient, oppressive, forged in pressure and pain. The moment Kael stepped onto the floor, the air thickened, dragging at his skin like molten chains.
The others followed close behind, but even Rina, the most agile among them, slowed as the heat took hold.
Massive black spires loomed across the horizon, belching smoke into the burning sky. Lava coursed like rivers through carved channels, illuminating the obsidian ground with a dim, red glow. Everything smelled of scorched metal and something older — blood, perhaps. Ash.
"This place is alive," Veyr murmured. His voice sounded distant, swallowed by the growling heat.
"No," Kael corrected, eyes scanning the horizon. "It's working."
At the center of it all stood a towering forge, shaped like a coiled serpent swallowing its tail. Enormous gears turned in silence, and the constant beat of unseen hammers echoed from deep within.
As they approached the forge, an iron bridge extended over a bubbling lake of molten metal. Kael paused, his gaze fixed on the stone pedestal in the center of the bridge — and on the being standing beside it.
The figure was not human. Nor was it monstrous. It was something in between — tall and armored in layers of blackened steel, its face hidden behind a visor glowing faintly with runes. One hand held a hammer. The other, a branding iron shaped like a fang.
"You've reached the Forging Floor," the being said, voice like metal grinding on bone. "Leave what you were behind. Take only what you must forward."
Kael frowned. "What does that mean?"
"You will forge your will here. Into form. Into purpose. Or be melted down, unmade."
From the lava below, figures began to rise.
They were not enemies.
They were shards.
Unbound. Raw. Drifting through the heat like fish through deep water. Some glowed with fire. Others crackled with energy. One hovered near Kael, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He stepped toward the pedestal.
"What is this?" he asked the smith.
"The Tower gives many things. Power. Pain. Choice. But now it demands payment. Here, you choose the shape of your soul."
The pedestal shifted, revealing five indentations. Each space was shaped differently — jagged, smooth, twisted, sharp, broken.
Kael understood.
These were paths.
He placed three of his shards on the altar — Insight, Binding, and Memory. The forge screamed to life, and the runes on the smith's armor flared as he raised his hammer.
One by one, the others followed.
Daren placed shards of Fury and Stone. Rina offered Swiftness and Illusion. Veyr hesitated but laid down a single black shard that made the forge shudder. Mier stood silently, then placed something no one else recognized — a shard that seemed to blink like a living eye.
The smith struck.
Once.
The air exploded with pressure. Light erupted in all directions. Kael staggered, clutching his head as something inside him *snapped* — and then *mended* itself, reforged.
The shards he had offered were no longer just shards.
They had become a part of him.
The Shard of Binding infused his limbs — every movement now had weight, consequence. Insight coiled around his mind, fusing memory and perception. And Memory… it echoed through his bones, whispering the stories of the fallen like a heartbeat.
Kael had changed.
He wasn't sure how, not completely. But he *felt* it.
So did the others.
Daren's fists sparked with controlled fury. Rina moved without sound. Veyr's presence seemed colder, darker. Mier's eyes glowed faintly, but no one dared ask why.
The smith stepped back. "You are forged."
Then, as if the act of forging had completed its duty, the bridge shattered behind them. The rivers of lava hissed and dimmed. The air cooled.
A door opened at the edge of the forge — tall, made of obsidian and lined with silver veins that pulsed with rhythm.
Kael turned to the smith. "What lies beyond?"
The smith tilted his head. "The Divine Reflection. Where the Tower shows you what you fear most."
Kael nodded slowly. "Good."
He didn't fear monsters. He didn't fear the gods.
He feared losing himself.
And now… he would find out how close he truly was to that edge.
He walked toward the door, companions at his side.
The Tower watched, silent and eager.