The next trail was simple fog curled around the ancient training grounds like a serpent. This part of the Ghost Fortress was different—older, more silent. The shadows here whispered, and even the most fearless warriors stepped lightly.
Dominic stood alone in the middle of a circular stone arena carved with arcane symbols, faintly glowing violet. The air was cold, but not from the weather—it was the chill of something unnatural.
Lady Fares stood on a high platform above him, her expression solemn.
"The first trial was against skill," she called out, her voice echoing. "This one... is against death itself."
A heavy door groaned open on the far side of the arena.
From the darkness, she emerged.
A woman.
Or what was once a woman.
