The Heart‑Shrine rose from the center of the Aetherwind Expanse like a pillar of frozen dawnlight.

It wasn’t built of stone or metal—its structure was woven from pure wind, spiraling upward in translucent layers that shimmered with pale gold. Every gust carried a faint hum, like a heartbeat trying to steady itself.

But today, that heartbeat faltered.

The Spiralbound Four landed on the shrine’s outer platform just as another tremor rippled through the sky. The wind‑bridges behind them flickered dangerously, their edges fraying into threads of light.

Solen Galecrest touched down last, wings folding with rigid precision. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

“This is the Heart‑Shrine,” he said quietly. “The center of all sky‑paths. If it falls, the entire Expanse collapses.”

Brinrose stepped forward, her emberlight wings glowing softly. “Then we’ll help you keep it standing.”

Solen didn’t look at her. “This trial is mine.”

Beast exhaled, letting the realm’s breath move through him. “We’re not here to take your trial. We’re here to keep you alive while you face it.”

Solen’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

The shrine’s inner chamber opened with a low, resonant sigh. Wind spiraled inward, forming a circular arena of floating platforms. Runes glowed faintly along the edges—symbols of guardianship, healing, and truth.

Elira shivered. “It feels like it’s waiting for something.”

Elias nodded. “Or someone.”

Solen stepped into the center of the chamber. The runes brightened beneath his feet, responding to his presence. A soft wind circled him, lifting stray feathers from the floor.

Then the shrine spoke.

Not in words—

in breath.

A single gust swept through the chamber, carrying a message that pressed against their hearts:

A guardian who heals must first be willing to be seen.

Solen froze.

Beast felt the meaning settle like a weight. “It wants you to open up.”

Solen’s wings snapped tight. “I am open enough.”

Brinrose shook her head gently. “You’re not. Not to yourself.”

The shrine pulsed again, brighter this time. The wind thickened, forming a ring around Solen—an arena of truth.

Elias stepped back. “It’s starting.”

Solen inhaled sharply and lifted his hands. Wind gathered around him, forming a protective gale. His healing aura flared, steady and controlled.

But the shrine didn’t respond.

Instead, the wind around him dimmed.

Elira’s voice trembled. “It’s rejecting him.”

Solen’s eyes widened. “Impossible.”

The shrine pulsed again—this time with a sharp, cutting gust that sliced through his gale and sent him stumbling backward.

Beast lunged forward, catching him before he fell. “Solen—”

“Don’t touch me!” Solen shoved him away, feathers bristling. “I don’t need—”

The shrine interrupted him with a violent tremor.

A crack split the chamber floor. Wind surged upward, forming jagged shapes—echoes of guardians who had fallen, their silhouettes flickering like broken memories.

The Shattergale was close.

Too close.

Brinrose’s wings flared. “It’s feeding on the trial!”

Elias steadied the platform beneath them. “Solen, you have to try again!”

Solen’s breath shook. “I can’t—”

The shrine pulsed a third time, harder than before.

This time, the message was unmistakable:

You cannot heal what you refuse to feel.

Solen staggered, gripping his chest as if the wind itself had struck him. His wings trembled. His eyes darted away from the others—away from the truth.

Beast stepped forward, voice low. “Solen… what are you afraid of?”

Solen didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

The wind around him swirled faster, forming a vortex of rejection. The shrine’s runes dimmed. The chamber shook. The Shattergale’s howl echoed through the sky, growing stronger with every heartbeat.

Elira whispered, “He’s failing.”

Solen fell to one knee, breath ragged.

“I can’t…” he whispered. “I can’t let anyone close. Not again.”

The shrine’s light flickered—

not in anger,

but in sorrow.

The Shattergale screamed from the horizon, answering his confession with violent hunger.

The trial had begun.

And Solen was losing.

The chamber shook again—hard enough that the floating platforms drifted out of alignment. Runes flickered. Wind spiraled upward in a frantic, uneven pulse.

The Shattergale was coming.

Beast stepped toward Solen, but the gale around the Sky‑Ward snapped like a warning. Solen’s wings trembled, feathers rattling in the unstable air.

“I can’t…” Solen whispered, voice cracking like a wind‑fractured branch. “If I let anyone close—if I feel too much—people fall. Guardians fall.”

Brinrose’s expression softened. “Solen… you don’t have to—”

A coin hit the floor.

It didn’t fall from above.

It simply appeared—spinning in a slow, impossible circle, humming with faint gold light.

Elira gasped. “He’s here.”

A swirl of leaves and shimmering gold spiraled upward from the coin, twisting into a tall, sharp‑eyed figure with a cloak that shifted like wind‑tossed pages.

Lirien Faebrand stepped into the chamber as if he’d been expected all along.

“Well,” he said, brushing a leaf from his shoulder, “the Elders and Wardens were wondering how their favorite four were doing. And I see the answer is: poorly.”

Beast exhaled, half‑relieved, half‑annoyed. “Lirien.”

Brinrose smiled despite the tension. “You always arrive exactly when you shouldn’t.”

“That’s my charm.” Lirien flicked the coin into the air, letting it vanish. “Now then—what storm of emotional repression have we wandered into?”

Solen stiffened. “This is not your concern, fae.”

“Oh, everything is my concern,” Lirien replied lightly. “Especially when the sky is screaming.”

The Shattergale howled from outside the chamber, rattling the shrine walls.

Lirien tilted his head. “Ah. Yes. That one. Very loud. Very wounded. Very… you.”

Solen’s feathers bristled. “I am nothing like that storm.”

Lirien stepped closer, eyes gleaming with mischief and something sharper. “A storm born from unspoken grief? From distance? From a guardian who refuses to be seen?” He tapped Solen’s chest with one finger. “It is exactly like you.”

Solen recoiled as if struck.

Beast stepped forward. “Lirien—”

“No, no,” Lirien said, waving him off. “Let him hear it.”

He circled Solen slowly, cloak shifting from leaves to coins to shadows.

“You heal others,” Lirien said softly. “But you never let anyone heal you. You guard the sky, but you never let anyone guard you. You carry every fallen guardian in your heart, but you never speak their names.”

Solen’s breath hitched.

The shrine pulsed—approving.

Lirien leaned in. “Tell me, Sky‑Ward… how long have you been pretending that distance is strength?”

Solen’s wings trembled violently. “I—”

The Shattergale slammed into the outer barrier, sending a shockwave through the chamber. Runes shattered. Platforms lurched. Elira stumbled, and Elias caught her just in time.

Lirien didn’t flinch.

He simply whispered:

“Say it.”

Solen squeezed his eyes shut. His voice broke.

“I’m afraid.”

The wind stilled.

“I’m afraid that if I let anyone close… I’ll lose them. Like I lost the others.”

The shrine glowed—bright, warm, accepting.

The Shattergale shrieked, recoiling as if the confession had struck it.

Lirien stepped back, satisfied. “There it is. The truth. The gale opens when the heart does.”

Solen fell to his knees, breath shaking. Beast knelt beside him, steady and silent. Brinrose placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Elias and Elira stood close, offering quiet presence.

For the first time, Solen didn’t pull away.

The shrine’s runes flared to full brightness, forming a protective ring around him. The trial had accepted his truth.

But the storm was not finished.

The Shattergale’s silhouette rose outside the chamber, larger than before—its jagged form pulsing with fractured wind and grief.

Lirien flicked another coin into existence, letting it dance across his knuckles.

“Well,” he said lightly, “now that the emotional blockage is cleared… shall we go finish your storm?”

Solen rose slowly, wings steadying, eyes clearer than before.

“Yes,” he said. “This time… I won’t face it alone.”

The Spiralbound Four stepped beside him.

Lirien smirked. “Good. Because it’s very big.”

The Shattergale screamed—

and the final battle began.