The trial continued, seamless and brutal in its honesty. Ethiron and Rajin stood in silence as the world formed around them—the halls of the Royal Commander's estate. Marble corridors. Veiled windows. Long shadows cast from unseen lanterns.
Serika was gone. Her name not yet spoken.
They stood in a meeting chamber. A table of darkwood stretched across the center. Gendo was already seated, elbows on the table, hands clasped tightly in front of his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. Sleepless. Varek stood near the doorway, leaning against the wall, his sword still strapped to his back.
Kaien entered last. His movements were methodical, practiced. He didn't sit.
No one spoke for a long time.
"…He hasn't said a word since," Gendo muttered finally. "Not even at her shrine."
"He was there," Varek said. "Didn't cry. Didn't speak. Just stared at the damn glass."
"Young," Kaien said curtly. "Too young."
"No." Gendo shook his head. "Not too young. He understood it. That's the worst part."
Varek crossed his arms. "Do we even know what happened on that cursed place? All the records burned. Her regalia vanished."
The room fell silent again.
The young Rajin entered, and as Gendo watched his footsteps, he began to feel a familiar type of ether radiating from him. He recognized it as the same ether found in regalias. As soon as he sensed the regalia, he stepped forward and knelt on one knee before Rajin.
"Grandson, let me feel your chest for a moment."
Gendo raised his hand and placed it against Rajin's chest, feeling the pulse of the regalia within him. He caught a glimpse of it and recognized it as Serika's power.
"What the—this power... It's Serika's power. How did you obtain it?"
Varek and Kaein looked shocked as they watched the scene unfold.
"I don't know... I don't understand what you're saying."
Gendo, clearly annoyed and filled with grief for his late wife, asked again, more forcefully, "I said, how the hell did you obtain her power?"
"I—I don't—"
"Don't give me that crap... To think the Song would choose you over her...!"
From somewhere outside the scene, a voice whispered.
"Her power lives in him now."
"She died because it chose him."
"It should've been the boy."
The whispers curled through the air like smoke. They weren't spoken by any one figure. They just existed. Creeping through the wood of the walls, through the cracks in their grief.
In the present, Rajin flinched—but said nothing.
"Watch," Ethiron murmured. "You must watch."
The scene shifted.
The training yard.
A dull morning. Overcast skies. Varek and Rajin faced each other with practice swords. Rajin—young, unsteady—tightened his grip and lunged. Varek parried. The boy stumbled, foot catching on loose dirt. He began to fall—
—and Varek didn't move.
Rajin hit the ground with a harsh grunt.
Varek looked down at him, impassive. Then, quietly:
"She's dead because you live. First Aelira… now Serika. Who's next? Me?"
Rajin stared up at him, wide-eyed, stunned.
"You're not a weapon," Varek continued, stepping back. "You're a curse dressed in flesh."
Present-day Rajin turned his head, jaw clenched. The memory didn't stop.
Within the hall once more, Gendo and Varek walked down a dim corridor—unaware of the eyes that followed their every step.
"Has Kaien spoken to him?" Gendo asked.
"Left the estate yesterday," Varek replied. "Didn't even leave a letter."
Gendo exhaled through his nose. "Gods…"
"You've barely looked at the boy yourself," Varek muttered.
"He reminds me of her," Gendo said. "Every movement. Every silence. I can't—" He cut himself off. "I don't blame him."
"No?" Varek slowed his pace. "Then why do your eyes go empty when he enters the room?"
Gendo didn't answer. They walked in silence.
"Grief changes people," Gendo said, eventually. "Sometimes… it poisons the truth."
Ethiron shifted the past once more.
Rajin's bedroom. Dimly lit. The walls bare. Serika's old coat hanging untouched in the corner. The boy sat on the floor, legs crossed, staring at nothing.
The door creaked open. Gendo stepped in. Slowly.
Rajin didn't look up.
"I won't take her cloak down," Gendo said, voice rough.
Rajin still didn't respond.
"I used to call you a brave cub," Gendo continued. "I used to think you were the future."
Still no reply.
"I was wrong."
He turned and walked out.
Ethiron waves her hand, as another scene plays.
Kaien in the war room, voice clipped. "If he remains here, the boy will die. We are not raising a commander. We're raising a ghost."
Gendo: "Where do you expect him to go?"
Kaien: "Anywhere that isn't within reach of our weakness."
Gendo: "You think this is weakness?"
Kaien: "I think this is grief with a blade at its throat."
Time passed. Faster now. The estate emptied of warmth. Guards no longer greeted Rajin. Servants avoided his gaze. Doors closed behind him wherever he walked. Varek didn't speak. Gendo vanished for days at a time.
Kaien's name was never spoken again.
Rajin stood at the threshold of the estate gates. Night. No one tried to stop him. No one even noticed.
He walked.
"Where is he going?" Ethiron whispered.
Rajin answered with silence.
Ethiron shifted the scene, as they followed the young Rajin across mountains. Worn boots, thinner with each step. He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Slept beneath trees, in ruins, beside streams. His sword dragged behind him more often than it was carried. His eyes were ringed with dark circles.
The sky began to shift.
Stormclouds gathered.
Thunder cracked.
The Riftlands emerged—cracked rock, howling wind, jagged cliffs. The land beyond civilization. A place no one visited unless they wanted to disappear. Rajin stood at the edge, arms at his sides. Lightning shattered the sky. The wind tore at his clothes, flung hair into his face. His expression was calm. Empty.
He stepped forward. One foot hovered over the edge—
"That's not how she wanted her story to end."
A voice. Rich. Deep. Unshaken. Rajin froze. The wind stopped. Only for a moment.
Zephir Zeshi stepped through the mist. Captain of the Royal Commanders. Cloak dragging behind him. Sword unbuckled at his side.
"How did you find me?" Rajin asked, voice broken.
"I didn't. I listened."
"To what?"
Zephir approached slowly. "The storm."
Rajin shook his head. "Go away."
Zephir stood beside him. Looked over the cliff. "She gave her life so you could stand again. Is this how you repay her?"
"I didn't ask for this," Rajin said, voice cracking. "I never wanted to be chosen."
"No one ever asks," Zephir replied. "But once you are, you don't get to run."
Rajin collapsed to his knees, fists slamming into the stone. He screamed—screamed until his throat tore, until lightning answered, until the storm within him broke free in violent sobs.Zephir didn't move.When the boy could scream no more, the captain removed his cloak and wrapped it around him. Pulled him in. Held him tight beneath a sky that would not stop breaking.The storm faded.
The final scene opened on a field. Early morning. Mist rising from dew-covered grass. Zephir stood with Rajin, both holding blades.
"No. Again," Zephir said. "You flinch when the blade calls you. Don't flinch. Answer."
Rajin panted, raising his sword again.
"It's not just a weapon. It's a promise."
A flash of motion. A clash of steel. Zephir disarmed him.
"You are not here to avenge her. You are here to carry her."
He pointed to Rajin's chest.
"She chose you because you listen. So listen to the storm."
Ethiron let out a long breath as the scene faded to black.
Rajin stood beside her, motionless, his face unreadable.
But his hands were trembling.
And at last, Ethiron said, "Well, this was a rather amusing sight. You have passed the first trial."