Lysara didn’t waste time.
She led me to the old garden, now overrun with black vines.
"Enter," she said, "and face what holds you back."
"Another trial?" I asked.
"Not from the world. From yourself."
The thorns responded to my fear. My anger. Every vine wrapped around a weakness.
Memories sharpened into blades.
Lilith bleeding.
Yuria screaming.
My own hands glowing with power I didn’t understand.
I almost failed.
But at the end, I found the truth buried beneath the vines:
I wasn’t scared of losing.
I was scared of becoming something unrecognizable.