The Shattered Crowns

The Ukari marched on either side of Akash, their silent presence amplifying the tension in the air. The crowd, already whipped into a frenzy, roared louder as they neared the next trial site. Rising from the sands before him was a black pillar that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the heavens. Its dark surface gleamed like polished onyx, cutting an intimidating figure against the sky.

At the base of the pillar sat a carved-out alcove, cradling an orb that radiated strange, shifting hues of green and black. The crowd's roar swelled as Akash stepped closer, his heart pounding.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"You must take up the orb and step away from the Pillar of the Heavens," the priest declared, his voice rising to meet the ears of the crowd. "The skies will cry out in rage, and their full weight will bear down upon you. It is your task to endure, to defy the heavens as the First King did, and to raise the Tridact above your head. Only then will this trial be complete."

Akash's hand hovered over the orb, his fingers trembling. It was warm to the touch, and as he lifted it from the alcove, it fit perfectly into his palm, as if it had always belonged there. A familiar thought whispered in the back of his mind—the resin vial he'd handed Mirak. He swallowed hard, forcing the memory aside. He would find them again. Elys, Mirak, Daenys—they were still out there, waiting for him to keep his promise. This trial would be nothing. With the strength granted by the Impresa mark, his body was already at its peak.

"How long do I need to hold it?" Akash asked, attempting to mask his unease.

The priest's voice boomed across the coliseum, his answer directed not at Akash but at the masses: "Hear me, people of Reem! The Trial of the Body begins! The weight of the heavens, spurned by the beauty and grace of the First King, shall descend upon him. He must endure, just as the First King once did, and raise the Tridact above his head. He shall succeed—or perish beneath their fury."

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, their cries merging into a cacophony that rattled Akash's nerves.

"It will be satisfying to watch you crushed," hissed the malevolent voice in his mind. "Even with the Impresa mark, you are nothing."

Akash scowled. "Shut up. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you."

"Oh, blame me all you want, mortal," the voice purred. "You'll come to realize soon enough that your death is inevitable. And when you do, I'll be here. Waiting."

Akash ground his teeth but refused to respond further. He wouldn't give the creature the satisfaction.

The moment the orb left its carved-out alcove, Akash felt the heavens descend upon him. The weight slammed down with the force of a mountain, and he crumpled next to the pillar, sand spraying up around him. His knees buckled, and his arms trembled violently as he struggled to keep the orb from touching the ground.

His breath came in ragged gasps, panic seizing his chest. He tried to drop the sphere, but his fingers were glued to its surface, clutching it as if it were fused to his very bones. The pressure was unbearable, crushing every inch of his body and threatening to snap his spine. The muscles in his arms burned as though set aflame, and his bones groaned under the strain.

Akash sat there, trapped, unable to rise. He gritted his teeth, the world around him shrinking until only the pillar, the orb, and the crushing weight existed. The crowd's cheers faded into a distant hum, and memories began to flash through his mind. Elys's gentle laughter. Mirak's cautious optimism. Daenys's sharp, determined gaze. He had to endure—for them. He had made promises he could not break.

"You can't do this," whispered the voice in his head, a sick mockery of reassurance. "You're not strong enough. You'll die here."

Akash ignored it. With a guttural growl, he pushed himself upward, his legs trembling as he forced them straight. His muscles screamed in protest, but he refused to collapse. Slowly, agonizingly, he stood. The orb felt as if it carried the weight of a thousand worlds, but he held on. He wasn't strong enough to raise it yet, but he stood. And that would be enough—at least for now.

"You'll fail, boy," the voice sneered. "Do you know what this is? Entanglement. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you struggle, you'll never raise it higher. The heavens don't forgive."

Akash didn't respond, focusing instead on his breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. One step at a time.

The voice chuckled, dark and oily. "Let me make you an offer," it said. "Give me control of your body—just once, when I ask—and I will save you."

Akash scoffed, blood trickling from his nose as he spoke. "And what would you do with my body?"

"I'll handle the fine details. You'll live. Isn't that what you want? To survive?"

Akash let out a ragged laugh. "Go rot in a hydra's stomach. I'd rather die than give you control."

The pressure mounted. Blood streamed down his nose, dripping off his chin and onto the sand. His vision blurred, the edges of the world turning dark as his heart faltered under the strain.

"Ah, your spirit is admirable," the voice mused, almost amused. "But foolish. Still, let me show you something, boy. One lesson—for free."

Akash's knees buckled as he felt a sharp pain radiate through his chest. A sickening crack echoed in his ears, and he gasped for air, unable to move. Before his eyes, the black-armed figure materialized, dragging a sharpened nail across its own skin. Golden ichor, thick and shimmering, mixed with Akash's blood as it fell to the sand. The demon grinned, its teeth glinting like razors.

"Contracts can be accepted in more ways than one, mortal," it hissed. "You'll know when I want to take control. Try not to die before then."

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the voice was gone. The crushing weight lifted slightly, just enough for Akash to raise his trembling arm. With every ounce of strength he had left, he forced the orb upward, his muscles spasming as the heavens pressed against him. His arm wavered, but he pushed through the pain, holding the Tridact above his head.

The crowd erupted in deafening applause. The weight vanished, and Akash collapsed to his knees, the orb still clutched tightly in his hands. The Ukari rushed to his side, Fallen dropping to one knee as he examined the trembling boy.

"You've completed the Trial of the Body," Fallen said. "You can let go of the Tridact now."

"No," Akash rasped, his voice hoarse. He clutched the orb tighter, his knuckles white. "I'll hold it."

Fallen hesitated but eventually relented, stepping aside as Akash staggered to his feet. His legs wobbled, and his vision blurred, but he waved off the Ukari's assistance. Blood smeared his face, and he wiped it away, catching a glimpse of the faint golden hue mixed with his own red.

The priest's voice boomed across the coliseum. "The Trial of the Body has been completed! Behold, people of Reem, your potential Angel! Yet his journey is not over. We move now to the Trial of the Soul, where his heart shall be laid bare before Reem and the heavens alike."

Akash's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He clutched the Tridact tighter, his mind racing with doubts. The crowd's cheers felt hollow, their adoration a cruel mockery of what he truly felt. He hadn't succeeded. He hadn't truly lifted the heavens.

This wasn't a victory.

As the Ukari guided him toward the next trial, Akash glanced down at the orb in his hand—a reminder of his failure. "Crowning?" he asked, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I thought there was another trial."

"There is," the priest said, his voice heavy with meaning. "The crowning comes only after the heavens have seen your heart."

Akash's jaw tightened. He would not fail again.