Chapter Seventeen: Emberglass and Sabotage

The days before the Fourth Trial passed like a noose tightening.

The Forge of Becoming was whispered about with reverence and fear. Contestants trained in silence, Seers meditated longer than usual, and even the servants of the Trials moved with a new tension.

Only the twins and Sora knew why.

 The next Trial wasn’t just a test. It was a trap.

And the only way to survive was to dismantle the Forge from within… without being discovered.

Night One: Mapping the Ritual

In the Seer’s Reliquary, beneath layers of dust and forgotten scripts, Ren uncovered a forbidden schematic: a series of soul channels etched beneath the Forge itself.

These channels were ancient predating the Empire and designed to funnel emotional energy into a central vessel.

Kaede traced the lines with her fingers. “This is a spirit lattice. It's not just to test us it's to feed something.”

Sora nodded. “The cult calls it the God-Killer. They've hidden a vessel deep within the Trial’s core. If the ritual completes, the soul of the ‘chosen twin’ will be torn from their body and forced into it.”

Ren clenched his fists. “Then we need to collapse the lattice before that happens.”

Night Two: Gathering Tools

Sora took the lead, raiding a forgotten cache of Foxfire Disruptors ancient charms that could scramble magical ley-lines for a few moments before they burned out.

“We’ll need to plant one at each convergence point before the Trial begins,” she said. “Four in total. They’ll never suspect a thing until it’s too late.”

Kaede raised a brow. “Won’t the Seers sense them?”

Sora smirked. “Not if we bury the disruptors in the bloodline ashes lining the ritual grounds. Old magic masks old magic.”

Ren exhaled slowly. “This could work.”

Trial Morning: The Forge Awakens

The Forge of Becoming was no arena.

It was a crucible.

The contestants were led beneath the palace into a vast underground chamber half lava flows, half obsidian towers. The air shimmered with unbearable heat and pressure. Ancient chains hung from the ceiling like veins of a dying god.

At the center was a vast platform surrounded by thirteen ritual pylons, each one pulsing in rhythm with the contestants' heartbeats.

Kaede and Ren exchanged a glance as they were assigned their waiting zones.

Their hands brushed silent affirmation.

 Phase One: Plant the Disruptors.

Under the guise of warm-up meditations, Ren tucked one disruptor inside the ashes beneath Pylon Seven. Kaede did the same at Pylon Three. Sora, disguised among the robed attendants, handled the final two near the central lattice core.

As the Seers took their places and the ceremonial chants began, the pylons began to glow but the twins could already see it: the magical current began to stutter.

Phase One was a success.

Phase Two: Survive Without Triggering the Vessel

The Seer raised their arms. “Let the Trial begin!”

One by one, contestants were drawn into grueling “proving sequences” visions meant to test their greatest fears and regrets. The pylons were feeding on their souls, trying to locate the most potent source of grief.

Ren felt his blood boil as visions of Kaede dying filled his mind.

Kaede screamed silently as she watched Ren fall again and again.

But they held firm. They refused to give the ritual what it wanted.

Instead, they turned the pain inward. Burned it into resolve.

The disruptors began to hum.

Phase Three: Sabotage Complete

At the ritual’s peak, a blinding light erupted from the core.

The Seers chanted louder. The lattice pulsed.

 Then the disruptors detonated silently.

In a flash, the soul-channels collapsed.

The flow of energy halted.

The vessel beneath the Forge cracked, its runes distorting.

Screams erupted from within the walls Seers recoiling, their eyes smoking black.

The central platform exploded upward, sending contestants sprawling.

Kaede landed beside Ren, clutching her blade.

Sora emerged from the flame, blood trickling from her brow, but grinning.

 “We burned their god before it was born.”

Aftermath

The Seers called it a “spiritual backlash.”

No victor was named for the Fourth Trial.

The vessel was never mentioned again.

But the cult knew the truth.

And now… they were out of time.