Sylas got up from his meditative position after spending a few hours meditating, he walked towards the door.
He took a deep breath before stepping through it.
The door sealed behind Sylas with a hum, then silence.
The space before him stretched like far in front of him.
Nothing was in there but at the same time it was not empty.
Then, one by one, steps flickered into existence—not solid, almost like it was in a liquid state, their edges shimmering with unstable energy.
'It feels too stable to be unstable. Almost like a design I have seen something similar before some where. But where?' Sylas thought with a frown.
And then it clicked.
The astroid formation around the Void-Tide Storm.
'Looks like Zelathar loves to see chaos in order.' Sylas thought before his attention returned to scanning the room.
Akashia's voice resounded through the roo.m around him.
"Young master, this trial will test your resilience."
"When you are ready please start climbing," she continued.
"What is this trial of resilience about, Lady Akashia?" Sylas asked as he looked at the stairs.
"The steps will show you your greatest fears and regrets, the higher you go the more vivid it becomes."
Sylas exhaled. His hands flexed at his sides, he closed his eyes for a few seconds before he re-opened.
He stepped forward.
*******
The first few steps were weightless.
A lie.
Then—
A whisper, into his ear going far into his mind.
"You watched them die."
His own voice, but warped—with anger, rage, pain, reluctance, every good memories turned reminder.
The step beneath him *flickered*, and suddenly, he wasn't on the staircase anymore.
He was on the green planet of Valth, his home planet.
The air smelled of lovely flowers and ripe fruits of different origins... The smell of beautiful nature—the smell of home.
Suddenly it changed...
The scent.
The smell.
It changed.
The forest was burning.
The water changed to red seeping between the cracks in the marble.
Bodies.
So many bodies.
His family.
Valtheris.
Almost three hundred faces, all frozen in the prime of their lives, their features almost indistinguishable to the child he had been.
A hand—severed at the wrist—lay near the doorway, fingers still curled around the hilt of a ceremonial dagger, its edge humming with dormant aether.
"You could have saved them," the voice murmured.
At first Sylas was about to succumb but then.
"How could I have saved them if I couldn't even use aether well? How could an eight year old stop an invasion from an empire? an empire that have survived several wars."
A maniac smile blossomed on his face, "But vengeance, vengeance that I shall take. I will crush them. Make them regret that they didn't kill me."
And with that Sylas took another step.
*******
The staircase warped.
Now, it was the floating garden paths of Valth, the ones that had woven through the ancient trees like ribbons. The steps were no longer solid, but made of light-bridges, their stability failing with each movement.
Lyria sat on Step 14.
His little sister.
Her skull was split open above her left temple.
Her fingers toyed with the petals of a starbloom, the same flowers that had grown along the riverbanks.
"You promised we'd see the rings of Celaphis together," she said, her voice sounded broken.
Sylas's breath hitched for a second, the scent of burning starblooms filled his nose.
'Sorry sister.'
But that did not stop him as he took the next step.
*******
The voice twisted, deepened—morphed into the Crimson Emperor's.
"Weak."
The walls of the void pulsed as they morons into walls painted in the Crimson Empire flag with blood stains.
The steps narrowed, forcing him to balance on their failing edges.
"The last Valtheris," the Emperor sneered, "and you'll die on these steps like the fools you were."
Sylas's muscles locked. His vision blurred with tears from anger and rage.
For a second, he almost believed it.
Then he snarled and dragged himself higher.
*******
The steps turned to hologlass.
Beneath his boots, the abyss yawned, infinite and hungry. And inside it—
Them.
His family
The slaughtered Valtheris.
Almost three hundred corpses, floating in zero-g, limbs drifting like pale seaweed. Their eyes were open. Their mouths moved in unison.
"Join us."
Sylas's knees buckled as he stared at them for a few seconds before he took another step ignoring them.
*******
A new horror.
His own voice, but warped just like before.
"You're glad they died."
Sylas froze.
"No more expectations. No more failures. No more restrictions. Just… quiet."
His fist slammed into the step before he could stop himself. The hologlass cracked beneath the impact, spiderwebbing with fractures.
His twisted voice cut in, almost chiding.
"Physical force will not silence truth."
Sylas shuddered.
Then he kept climbing.
The top.
A platform. A door.
And standing between them—
Himself.
Armour scorched by plasma fire. Face gaunt from years of running. Eyes hollow with the weight of two hundred ghosts.
The other Sylas held the Valtheris crest in his hands, its edges dripping liquid light, the same energy that had once flowed through every member of his family.
"You were never enough for this name," the reflection said.
Sylas stared.
Then he laughed.
It was a maniac sound, ragged at the edges, but it was real.
"I don't have to be enough yet," he said. "But soon... Soon I will, in fact I will surpass them."
He walked forward—through the illusion, through the ghost of himself—and shoved the door open.
Light flooded the darkness.
Akashia's voice, softer now. Almost impressed.
"Congratulations Young master Sylas, you have completed the third trial."
Behind him, the staircase shattered into silence and he was teleported away.