Chapter 10

The room was dark, the air stale and cold. Thin light slipped through the cracks in the fractured walls, just enough to outline the lone figure in the corner. Kierg sat motionless on a rough wooden chair. Dark, dried stains covered his hands. Old blood he had never bothered to wash off.

Deep lines marked the skin under his eyes, and his face looked exhausted. Every moment he spent awake seemed to increase the weight he carried.

His thoughts moved slowly, pulling him back to the moment when everything changed. He saw the Necklace of Immortality again, resting in his hand for the first time. The cold metal, the unfamiliar power pulsing through it, and the promise he had not understood back then. Power that did not fade with time. Life that did not end. He thought it was a blessing.

With time, he saw how everything shifted. First his body changed, then his thoughts. He stopped laughing, he raised his hand more easily, and the light in his eyes began to disappear.

He recalled the faces from the past. Those he had fought beside, those who believed in him. He saw them looking at him with confusion first, then with pain. The moment they turned away from him. He believed he did not need them.

Now he knew that was the day he became truly alone.

Kierg slowly looked up, his gaze unfocused on the dark ceiling. His chest rose, and he let out a long breath.

"I was wrong."

The words barely carried through the room, yet in the silence it fell with the weight of something he had held inside for a long time.

Vyth sat in one of the dim rooms of the Temple, listening to the quiet steps approaching from the hallway. The sounds stopped at the door, and when he looked up, he saw Kierg standing there. His expression was silent and assessing. He did not enter right away. He stood still, as if deciding whether to speak at all.

Vyth was used to seeing Kierg walk into every place with confidence, so this hesitation stood out immediately.

Kierg finally stepped closer and stopped in front of him. There was a tiredness in him that was hard to define.

"Help me." he said quietly.

Vyth raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Kierg looked away. His jaw tightened, as if he was struggling with the words. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.

"I was wrong." The words was simple, but his voice carried honesty. "I do not know if there is a way back. Even if there is, I will not find it alone."

Vyth watched him. He remembered every moment when Kierg stood alone against danger, refusing any help. The man standing in front of him now did not resemble the fearless, relentless fighter he once knew. The sharp look in his eyes was gone. Something heavier had taken its place. Guilt and unspoken fear.

"Why now?" Vyth asked, his voice lower than he intended.

"Maybe because this is the first time I feel like I could lose what is left of me." Kierg answered. "And I know I will not manage it alone."

This was the first time his pride was completely gone.

Vyth took a slow breath. He did not know if he could help, and he did not know what price they would have to pay. But he saw that if he refused now, this chance might disappear forever.

"I do not know how I could help." he said quietly. "But... I will try."

Kierg nodded. He did not smile, but his gaze grew a little warmer. It was more than he expected. He stepped back, then walked away without another word.

Vyth listened to the fading footsteps. He knew this was not just a request. It was the moment when Kierg allowed someone to reach past the walls he had built around himself.

Time passed, and inside the Temple every sound slowly faded. Vyth rested his hand on the smooth, cold surface of the golden armor.

His fingers followed the fine details along the metal, and he could not stop thinking about Kierg. He saw the man as he had stood before him moments earlier, with a tired face, a broken look, and an honesty that cut through every word he spoke.

One thought kept echoing in him. "Even if no one else believes in him... I will."

It was a resolve within him that he neither wanted nor was able to let go of.

He knew Kierg’s path was dark, filled with wounds and choices that might never be undone. Even so, if he turned away now, who would remain at Kierg’s side? Who would try to pull him out before he sank for good?

Vyth closed his eyes and let the weight of his thoughts settle on him. He imagined the two of them facing danger together, and he imagined the chance that both of them might fall in the end.

The realization pressed at the edge of his vision. This path could easily end in failure. But it did not shake him. He opened his eyes, looked over the armor, and whispered only to himself.

"I will try to save you... Whatever the cost."

Vyth eventually returned to Abydore. He felt he had to come here. The heart of the city, the old library, had always hidden secrets that only patient searching could uncover. Now, with so many questions weighing on him, he found no other place where he could hope for answers.

Days passed as he went through old texts and manuscripts, and slowly one name began to stand out from the pages. The Blood of the Redeemer. The stories were never the same. Some called it a divine gift, others called it a curse. But every version contained one short line.

"The blood that cleanses and destroys."

Vyth lingered on the sentence for a long time. The words held both hope and fear. If the writings were true, the relic might be able to heal, but it could just as easily destroy. He did not know why, but he felt it was close to what he needed.

The legend also mentioned the Hall of Souls, where the blood was kept. Deep underground. But every book ended there. No description, no map, nothing that could lead him further.

Vyth searched for days, returning to the same texts again and again. In the end he understood that he would not find this alone.

He thought of Neiryl.

When he sought him out, Neiryl was sitting in the Temple garden beside a low stone table. A old leather-bound book lay in front of him, but as soon as he saw Vyth, he closed it and set it aside. His expression was calm, yet curious.

"I did not expect to see you again so soon." he said quietly. "What brings you here now?"

Vyth stopped in front of him, hesitating for a moment before he sat down on the stone bench. He explained in detail what he had found in the library. The legend of the Blood of the Redeemer, the lines that would not leave his thoughts, and the mention of the Hall of Souls, which appeared nowhere else.

Neiryl listened without interrupting. When Vyth finished, he finally spoke, his voice steady and thoughtful.

"The Hall of Souls was not made for human hands. It is no surprise you found no written record of it." He paused, then lifted his eyes to Vyth. "But if you truly plan to seek it, you must understand, the Hall of Souls will test you."

Vyth did not answer right away. The word test echoed in him, and without meaning to, he looked at his armor, still resting on him, as if reminding him of the last decision he made.

"Where do I find it?" he asked at last.

Neiryl’s expression grew more serious. For a moment he did not speak. His fingers traced the spine of the book on the table, as if weighing the answer. Then he nodded slowly.

"Far from here, underground. But understand this, the Hall of Souls forces everyone to face what they hide deepest within themselves."

Vyth felt a tightness in his chest, but he did not step back. "I still have to go."

Neiryl nodded. "You must head north." he said quietly. "Where the forests end, and a single massive, dead tree stands among the rocks. That is the sign. The entrance to the Hall of Souls cannot be seen with the naked eye, but those who are prepared will find it. If you are not ready, the tree will remain only a tree, and the path will look empty."

Silence settled between them. Vyth stared at the ground, letting the words sink deep into his thoughts. He knew he had no other choice.

"I understand." he said finally. "And thank you."

Neiryl watched him for another moment, then leaned back on the stone bench. "I wish thanks were enough to ensure your safe return. I respect your decision, Vyth, but only you will bear its consequences."

Vyth stood up slowly. He bowed his head and left the garden in silence, carrying Neiryl’s words with him.

The Hall of Souls was waiting for him.

Vyth set out at dawn the next day. He moved deep into the northern forests, heading farther and farther from Abydore. The trees thinned as he went, the ground grew rocky, and the wind brushed against his face with a sharper cold. It took a long time until he reached the place Neiryl had spoken of. The base of the mountains, where the forest ended at once. There stood the massive, dead tree, alone among the stones. Its trunk was cracked, its bare branches reaching up toward the sky.

Vyth approached slowly, but at first he saw nothing. Only the tree stood there, still and silent, with empty rocks surrounding it. Then, as he took a deep breath and recalled Neiryl’s words, something shifted. The air behind the tree trembled. A faint light appeared in a crack along the stone wall.

When he stepped through it, every trace of light vanished behind him. The world went dark, and he heard only the sound of his own footsteps.

At first there was nothing but silence and empty space. Then shapes began to form in the haze. Familiar faces. The Guardians he had fought beside. Aryn’s stern look, Llyris’s calm smile. But as he stepped closer, the images warped. Their faces hardened, then turned cold. None of them spoke, yet their eyes burned with judgment.

"You betrayed us." The voices came not from their mouths, but from somewhere inside him.

Vyth shook his head. He knew it was an illusion, yet it struck him as sharply as if his own soul accused him. He kept walking.

The next vision showed Kierg. His friend, standing before him, but not as Vyth remembered. His skin was cracked, his eyes burned red, and every movement carried a demon’s strength. Kierg’s voice tore through the silence like a shout.

"Do you see? This is what I have become, and you cannot help me!”

Vyth’s chest tightened. For a moment it felt real, as if he had already lost him. The images were so vivid it was hard to look away.

Still, he moved forward.

Another illusion rose before him. This time it was himself, wearing the golden armor. But the armor was rusted and broken, and the figure inside it had an empty, lifeless face. The oath he had taken was gone, and he had become nothing more than a hollow shell.

Vyth fell to his knees under the weight of it. The realization burned in his chest. His fears, the ones he never spoke aloud, all stood in front of him now. He could lose Kierg. He could fail the trust he received as a Golden Knight. And in the end, he might become nothing but an empty shell of himself.

Minutes passed in silence. The stillness pressed around him. Then something shifted within him. He remembered Ylena’s words, the moment the Goddess stood before him. She asked him to hold on to his humanity, even when everything else faded. That memory became a single clear light inside him.

He rose slowly. He looked at the illusions and spoke quietly.

"No matter what you show me, I will not give up. I will believe even when no one else does. Even if no one else will, I will believe in him."

The images trembled, then shattered into nothing. The silence lifted, and a soft light began to form ahead of him. As he stepped closer, an altar emerged from the darkness. On it rested a clear vessel filled with a glowing red liquid.

The Blood of the Redeemer.

He had reached the end of the Hall of Souls. And he understood that the trial had not been about courage alone. It had been about holding on to his faith even when everything turned against him.

Vyth did not linger anywhere when he returned to Glelrun. He went straight to find Kierg, and he found him at the edge of an abandoned courtyard. The man stood with his back to him, motionless, lost in his thoughts.

When Vyth stepped forward, the light caught on the small vial in his hand. It was a dark object, with a red-tinted liquid shifting inside it.

Kierg’s eyes tightened at once. He felt the danger in it. His gaze went to Vyth’s hand.

"What is that?" he asked quietly.

"The Blood of the Redeemer." Vyth answered. His voice was steady, though it sounded almost like a whisper in the silence. "They say it purifies the soul. But it costs the life of the one who uses it."

A long silence followed. Kierg’s focus stayed fixed on the vial. Vyth was used to the man’s unwavering presence, but there was something different in him now. A struggle somewhere inside.

Kierg finally spoke.

"Death does not frighten me..." he said quietly. "...only the uselessness."

The words were simple, yet they carried weight. Vyth felt the pain behind them.

Kierg closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back at Vyth. "If the Blood of the Redeemer kills me, I will still not be lost forever. Ylena can open a portal to the Underworld. From there... maybe you could bring me back."

The sentence stayed between them like a bitter hope.

He did not wait long. He went straight to the Temple.

The hallways were empty, broken only by the crackle of the torches. Ylena was already there, as if she had known he would come. When Vyth stood before her, he did not explain himself and did not speak about his plan. He only pleaded.

"I found something." he said, pulling out the vial. "The Blood of the Redeemer. Kierg agreed, and I want to bring him back. Clean. With a purified soul."

Ylena watched him in silence for a long time. Her gaze was steady, almost as if she could see every thought inside him.

Finally she nodded slowly. "If this is your path, I will not stop you." she said quietly. "I will help you."

Her agreement was not a simple promise. It was the sign that Vyth would not face the next trial alone.

Vyth returned to Kierg for the second time. There were no words left that mattered. Everything that could be said had already been spoken. Only silence remained, carrying the weight of the decision between them.

Kierg took the vial into his hand. For a moment he looked over it, as if the small dark glass were the scale deciding the direction of his entire fate. Then he snapped the seal open and drank the contents in one motion.

At first, nothing happened. He lowered his hand slowly and took a deep breath, as if waiting for a miracle. Then his expression tightened.

His eyes darkened, his fingers began to tremble. His knee buckled, but he did not fall. He shook himself like a wounded animal and tried to regain control. The shaking grew stronger, spreading through his entire body.

Vyth stepped forward, but Kierg’s eyes flashed at that moment. It was not a human light. A red, swirling glow filled them, carrying pain and anger.

A wild roar broke from his throat, and he lunged at Vyth at once.

Vyth stepped back on instinct, drawing his weapon, though the movement was meant for defense, not attack. Kierg’s strikes were relentless, every motion charged with the demonic curse tearing at him from within. The Blood of the Redeemer was trying to cleanse him, but the demon’s power did not release its hold easily.

The fight had no order. There was no logic of clean tactics, no beauty of trained forms. Only instinct and pain. Vyth barely managed to block the blows. He moved his sword, but every strike carried the intent to avoid hurting his friend.

"Kierg!" he shouted as he deflected a swing by a narrow margin.

But Kierg did not hear him. His eyes burned, his face twisted, and his hands struck with unnatural force again and again. Only one thought could have remained inside him. Destroy.

Vyth stepped back, his chest rising and falling sharply. But he did not break. Deep inside he knew this was not a real fight between them. This was Kierg’s battle against himself.

The struggle went on, every movement filled with strain. Stones cracked, dust rose around them like a gray cloud that swallowed the world. With every blow, Vyth felt his chest tighten more.

Then, as the fight stretched on without end, Kierg’s movements began to slow. His body wavered, his hands trembled, the force behind his strikes grew weaker. The red glow in his eyes flickered for a moment, then faded.

Finally, as if cut down by an unseen force, Kierg collapsed. The dust settled slowly around them, and the silence struck with sudden sharpness.

Vyth rushed to him and dropped to his knees. Kierg’s eyes opened, no longer glowing red. A human gaze looked back at him. Exhausted, broken, but clear.

His chest heaved, and his voice was barely a whisper. "Vyth..."

Vyth grabbed his arm and held it tightly, as if the grip alone could keep him from slipping away again. At the edge of his vision rested the tears he had held back through every moment of the fight.

"I will not let you be lost." he said, quiet, yet with a conviction stronger than any word.

Kierg’s eyes closed slowly, but a faint, peaceful smile appeared on his face. The first Vyth had ever seen from him.

Vyth stepped into the Temple slowly, carrying Amarah’s motionless body in his arms. His footsteps echoed across the stone floor, each sound hitting with the weight of his heavy heartbeat.

He placed the body carefully before the altar, then stood. His eyes lifted to Ylena, who waited in the light without moving. Her wings glowed faintly, but her face was solemn, and a single look held more meaning than any words could have carried.

"He chose his fate the moment he chose eternity." the Goddess said at last, her voice slow and heavy. "Redemption brings peace to the soul, not the right to return."

Vyth froze. The words struck him so suddenly it felt as if all his remaining hope had been crushed in an instant. His eyes widened, then narrowed as anger and doubt began to rise inside him.

"What are you saying?" he asked. His voice was quiet, yet it trembled with emotion. "Why should he not return if he is purified now?"

Ylena closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him again. "When Amarah became a vampire, he betrayed the light. He lost the trust of others, and he lost mine as well. From that moment on, every step he took cast a shadow around him. I cannot lift up someone who turned against what he should have believed in."

The silence of the sanctuary filled with Vyth’s strained breathing. His chest felt tight, each breath harder than the last. His gaze fell to the still body, then back to Ylena.

A knot formed in his throat, and his heart pounded violently. Between his anger and his confusion, a single thought pushed its way in. That the Goddess had turned away from him too.

Vyth walked in silence through the dim sanctuary. His words had died after Ylena’s cold statement, yet the decision slowly formed inside him. If no one would help, he will go after Amarah himself. He could not allow everything to end like this.

When he finally stepped out into the courtyard, Llyris was already there. It was clear he had been waiting for him, and there was a question in his eyes he did not dare to speak.

"Vyth..." he began slowly, stepping closer. "You are not thinking what I think you are, right?"

Vyth’s eyes darkened, but his voice was steady. "If Ylena will not help, then I will go alone. I will not leave him behind."

Llyris’s expression tightened, and he grabbed Vyth’s arm. "Are you out of your mind? The Underworld is dangerous. If you cross its boundary, we might never see you again." His voice carried not only worry but desperation.

Vyth did not move. "If I do not try, then everything that happened becomes meaningless. And I cannot allow that."

The tension broke when they heard Ylena’s quiet footsteps. The Goddess approached slowly, her wings surrounded by a faint glow. She stopped in front of them, her gaze fixed strictly on Vyth.

"If this is your decision, I will not stand between you and your path." she said quietly, but her words cut sharper than any blade. "I will open the gateway for you. But from that moment on, you are on your own. I will not accompany you, and I cannot help you. In the Underworld, every step you take will be the consequence of your own choice."

Silence followed for a moment. Llyris’s grip trembled on Vyth’s arm, but Vyth slowly pulled free. His eyes did not leave Ylena’s.

"I accept." he answered calmly, though his voice carried all the anger, disappointment, and determination he had been holding inside.

Ylena nodded, then lifted her hand. Dark light began to swirl beside the sanctuary. The shapes slowly formed a gateway, releasing a cold and unsettling glow.

The gate opened, and from the other side an unfamiliar, chilling wind swept through.

Vyth stood before the gate. Behind him was the world he knew, and before him the unknown. The gate pulsed slowly, as if it already wanted to close, and every moment he remained still brought it closer to sealing shut for good.

Llyris was beside him. He did not speak at first. He watched the light, then reached for Vyth’s arm again with trembling fingers. The grip was not strong, but the desperation in it was clear.

"Don’t go." he whispered at last. "You cannot know how long the gate will stay open. If you cross it, you may never return."

Vyth’s eyes drifted toward Ylena, who stood a few steps away. Her face held no strictness, no anger, only a measured, cold calm.

"The borders of the Underworld do not obey me." she said quietly. "I can open the way only for a short time."

After her words, the silence grew heavier. Vyth’s gaze shifted back and forth. Llyris’s worried expression, Ylena’s calm, almost stone-like features, then the dark light of the gate. Each one suggested a different choice.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A pressure spread through his chest, as if every decision broke something inside him. His eyes filled with tears, but he said nothing. He stepped back.

The gate’s light seemed to sense that he will not cross. The glow faded slowly, then vanished completely with a dull, ghostly sound. Vyth closed his eyes, and tears slid down his face.

He could not save Amarah. Not now, and maybe never. And in his heart, disappointment burned. Not because of fate, not because of death. Because of Ylena. The Goddess who made a promise, who gave him hope, now took everything from him again.