The sun had barely crested the horizon when the group returned to the castle.

  The outer courtyard was quiet—too quiet. Smoke still hung in the air, but the streets were mostly clear. A few scattered monsters had appeared on their path back, but they were sluggish, aimless. Most kept their distance. None attacked.

  George kept one hand on his sword the entire time.

  “Weird,” Kaeden muttered, watching the rooftops as they crossed the final bridge. “There were more of them last night.”

  “Maybe they’re retreating,” Lyn said, her voice flat, exhausted.

  “Or maybe they’re waiting,” Ruben added darkly.

  The gates opened with a heavy groan, and guards rushed to help the injured. Inside the main hall, cots were being set up, healers barking orders over the groans of fresh survivors. The atmosphere was still tense—but no longer on the verge of collapse.

  As the group entered, a soldier stepped forward.

  “The King has requested a full debrief. Once you’ve rested, he asks for your presence.”

  George nodded. “Understood.”

  But no one really rested.

  Not after what they’d seen.

  The stone walls of the King’s chamber pulsed with faint Terra runes—veins of brown-gold light threading through the floors like ancient roots. At the center, a massive stone map table glowed dimly. Most districts were dark.

  Only the castle still shimmered.

  King Terra stood beside it, hands behind his back, silent as the stone itself.

  George, Ruben, Alden, Lyn, and Kaeden entered without a word.

  The King’s gaze turned first to George. “I take it you found your daughter safely.”

  George nodded once. “Yes. Thank you for allowing us to go.” His voice was rough. “But… we also found Margaret. She didn’t make it.”

  The King closed his eyes briefly. “I see.”

  “But something strange happened,” Ruben added, stepping forward. “Before she died… her Terra energy returned to the earth. I’m not sure if it was intentional, but when it did—”

  “The monsters backed off,” George finished. “It was like they didn’t want to be near her.”

  The King’s brow furrowed. “That should not be possible. Her energy should have returned to me.”

  He turned, slowly walking around the table. “But if her life force merged with her Terra—if that bond was given back to the land itself—it may have created something new. Something the monsters fear.”

  The three kids stood near the door, silent and unsure if they should speak.

  Then, without a word, the King reached inside his cloak and drew a short blade.

  George’s eyes widened. “Your Majesty—what are you doing?”

  “I want to test this theory myself.”

  “You’re the King—”

  “I am the only one strong enough to survive it,” the King interrupted calmly. “Margaret gave everything to protect a block. I wonder… if a fraction of my power could do the same for a city.”

  Before anyone could object again, he rolled up his sleeve and, with practiced precision, cut just below the shoulder.

  Blood spilled freely.

  With quiet purpose, the King knelt and pressed his bleeding arm to the floor. Vines coiled upward from the stone and wrapped around it, drinking in the Terra energy as it sank into the earth.

  The runes glowed brighter.

  And then—stillness.

  A few minutes later, a guard burst into the room, breathless. “Sire! The outer streets—they’ve gone quiet. The monsters are pulling back.”

  “It worked,” George murmured.

  Ruben stepped forward, staring at the King’s arm. “Your Majesty… even though you don’t age, will it heal? Will it regrow?”

  The King shook his head. “It will not. But it’s a small sacrifice—one I gladly make.”

  George’s hands curled into fists. “Then let me be next.”

  Ruben nodded. “If we all give our lives… maybe the kingdom will be safe.”

  “No,” the King said firmly. “One life will not turn the tide. Ten will not change fate. I will not build safety on the graves of my elites.”

  Silence followed.

  Then, his gaze shifted—to Alden.

  “You survived again,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

  Alden stepped forward slowly. “I… used the ring.”

  He looked at Kaeden and Lyn, who both gave him a slight nod.

  “There was this… white place. Empty. Except for a stall. I gave it something—and it gave something back.”

  The King listened, unmoving.

  “I think it lets me trade. Like a merchant. But… not a normal one.”

  “And the ring?” the King asked.

  Alden held up his hand. The ring sat quietly on his finger. No glow. No heat.

  “I still don’t really understand how it works.”

  The King folded his arms. “You were not granted Terra’s power… and yet, you were able to mimic it.”

  George looked between them. “What does that mean?”

  The King’s eyes were distant. “It means his power does not belong to Terra. Perhaps it belongs to something older. And that makes it all the more important we understand it—before it becomes dangerous.”

  “Then let him train here,” George argued. “Let him study safely.”

  “He will learn more by seeing the world,” the King replied. “Other kingdoms. Other powers. If this ring reacts to Terra, it may respond to them as well.”

  George narrowed his eyes. “You want him to travel? Now?”

  “He will not leave untested.”

  The King turned to a wall and placed his palm against a Terra-inscribed rune.

  With a quiet groan, the stone slid aside—revealing a narrow spiral staircase descending into the dark.

  “The Kingdom Test,” the King said. “No one leaves Terra without passing it.”

  George’s face darkened. “That test was built for seasoned warriors. To decide if they were worthy of becoming elite guards. Alone.”

  “Times have changed,” the King said. “He may bring two others.”

  Alden hesitated for only a second. “Then I want Lyn and Louise.”

  They waited.

  “…He’s not with us right now,” Lyn said softly, glancing toward the door. “I wonder how he’s doing.”

  “I’ll go find him,” Alden started.

  “You must take the test now,” the King interrupted. “The longer you wait, the more monsters will gather. There is no time.”

  Alden turned to Lyn. She nodded.

  “…Then I’ll pick Kaeden.”

  Kaeden, who had been quietly leaning on the wall, blinked. “Me?”

  Alden gave him a hopeful smile. “You’re quick. And you’re already here.”

  Kaeden sighed. “That’s a terrible reason.”

  But he stepped forward anyway.

  “Alright. Let’s go”

  The stone steps spiraled deep beneath the castle, each footfall echoing like it might never come back. Pale glyphs pulsed gently along the walls, old as time, glowing with the warm hue of Terra’s magic. Their rhythm mimicked a heartbeat—steady, calm, eternal.

  The deeper they went, the more the air changed.

  It smelled of moss and iron. Of roots left undisturbed for centuries. The silence wasn’t hollow—it was full, like the stone itself was listening.

  The stairway ended at a wide arch carved directly into the bedrock, its frame engraved with thousands of names—some worn with time, others glowing faintly. Alden stopped at the threshold, blinking at what lay beyond.

  A cavern stretched out before them, massive and circular, the size of a small coliseum. The ceiling arched high above, supported by enormous stone ribs that curled like the roots of a long-dead tree. Faint threads of green-gold energy flowed through the walls, crisscrossing like veins beneath the stone.

  At the center stood the shrine.

  It was carved from a single, pale boulder, shaped like a teardrop with a small opening at its peak, from which sprouted a crown of moss and tiny blossoms. It pulsed faintly with light—not bright, but alive.

  Surrounding the shrine were dozens of tiny sapling creatures. Some waddled clumsily on two root-like legs, others swayed like grass in the wind. Their eyes glowed softly. They emitted no sound—only a hum that blended with the magic of the place.

  “This is the Garden of Judgment,” the King said from behind them, his voice quiet but absolute. “It is Terra’s oldest chamber. The root of the kingdom.”

  Kaeden stared upward. “This place is… real?”

  “It is deeper than any tunnel we dig,” the King replied. “Older than our walls. It is where the kingdom was first sworn to the Origin.”

  Lyn stepped cautiously forward. “And this is where you test soldiers?”

  “No,” the King said. “This is where Terra chooses protectors.”

  He gestured to the circular ring etched around the shrine, its border glowing faintly with flickering glyphs. The floor inside was cracked and uneven, like nature had been allowed to grow freely beneath the surface. Vines curled between stones. Petals floated from unseen blooms. Yet something darker stirred at the far edges—holes in the wall that looked too deep, too hollow.

  “This is the Kingdom Test,” the King said. “You will defend the shrine and the saplings. You may not leave the circle. If the shrine falls… you fail. If the saplings are harmed… you fail.”

  Kaeden stepped closer to the boundary, watching one of the saplings bend over to sniff a flower. “They look… soft.”

  “They are,” the King said. “But their survival is part of your task. They represent the vulnerable. Innocents who cannot protect themselves.”

  Lyn frowned. “And the monsters?”

  “They will come,” the King said simply. “Some for the shrine. Others for the saplings. You will not know which until they move.”

  Alden’s stomach turned. He looked at the shrine again, then the saplings. “How long do we have?”

  “Until it is over,” the King said. “You succeed… or fall.”

  He stepped back. Ruben and George stood near the wall in silence, their faces grim.

  “You were allowed two companions,” the King said, addressing Alden. “Trust each other. That is how Terra judges worth.”

  Then he turned toward a small archway along the upper wall—a platform carved into the rock high above the chamber. He nodded to George and Ruben, and the three walked in silence toward the viewing area, steps quiet as the cavern itself.

  When the King passed through the arch, the stone behind him shifted and sealed with a heavy, resonant thrum.

  A voice echoed through the chamber—quiet, but unmistakable.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Begin.”

  The shrine pulsed once, casting light across the stone.

  And from the far walls… something stirred.

  The shrine pulsed—low and slow, like a heartbeat echoing through stone.

  The cavern around them was circular, like a vast underground arena carved by ancient hands. The stone walls curved high above, lined with faint Terra runes that flickered like distant stars. In the center of the chamber sat the shrine: a worn pedestal of vine-wrapped stone, glowing faintly with mossy green light. The saplings—those small, wide-eyed creatures—huddled around it, arms trembling like children clutching a guardian’s cloak.

  They weren’t alone.

  From the far side of the cavern, the wall cracked—not cleanly, but like bone snapping beneath pressure. A jagged rupture tore across the rock, and through it stumbled the first wave of enemies.

  Distorted earth golems.

  They dragged themselves into the arena, hunched and twitching, each one built of patchy, crumbling stone fused with hardened tar and broken clay. Their limbs bent the wrong way. Their feet scraped deep grooves into the floor. Faces were carved sloppily, like someone had taken a knife to wet rock and forgotten what humans looked like.

  Black sludge dripped from cracks in their torsos.

  They moved like marionettes—jerky, twitching, wrong.

  Alden took a step back. “What are those?”

  Lyn didn’t answer. She moved in front of him, spear in hand, her arms shaking. “I’ll try to hold the front,” she said tightly. “My dad taught me a little. Just… back me up.”

  “I’ve got support gear,” Kaeden muttered, digging through his massive backpack. “A few crystals… flares… some bindings—Alden, please tell me that ring can do something.”

  The golems shrieked—and charged.

  Lyn froze—just a heartbeat.

  Then her mother’s torn face flashed in her mind.

  She screamed and lunged.

  Her first jab went wide. One golem’s clawed arm smashed into her side, knocking her off balance. But she caught herself and drove the spear forward again—sloppy, wild. It hit stone and sunk in. The creature howled, black ooze spilling from its side.

  Kaeden tossed a red crystal. It burst on impact—more spark than flame. It scorched the creature’s leg but didn’t stop it.

  “I need better ones,” Kaeden hissed.

  The golem reeled back and raised its arms.

  “Lyn!” Alden shouted.

  She tried to pull her spear free, but it was stuck. “I need help—!”

  Kaeden flung two more red crystals. They exploded beneath the golem’s feet—sending it stumbling.

  Lyn yanked the spear free, spun, and swept low.

  Kaeden darted in and slammed a flare stone under the golem’s neck.

  Together, they brought it down—limbs twitching, sludge leaking out like tar from a broken pipe.

  It wasn’t easy.

  It was barely enough.

  The two collapsed beside it, breathing hard.

  Alden watched in horror. “Why is it… so strong?”

  “Yes!” Kaeden snapped. “Try the ring again!”

  Alden raised his hand and swiped at the air. “Please… please—do something.”

  Nothing.

  Another golem lumbered toward the center.

  Kaeden hurled a powder bomb—white smoke erupted, blinding but harmless. The golem didn’t stop. Kaeden dashed in, stabbing with a dull combat knife. It barely nicked the stone.

  The creature lashed back—sending Kaeden sprawling against the base of the shrine.

  His mask cracked. Blood dripped from his head.

  “Stay with the saplings!” he gasped. “Keep them safe!”

  Alden nodded, running behind the shrine and pulling two saplings close. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered. “Stay still—please stay still…”

  The golem dragged itself toward them.

  Lyn forced herself upright, limping forward with her spear clenched tightly.

  “Come on,” she growled, pushing through the pain.

  Her spear struck the golem’s ribs. It shrieked—but didn’t fall.

  “Kaeden!” she shouted.

  “I’m trying” Kaeden pulled a green crystal from his belt and smashed it to the ground. Vines burst upward, wrapping around the creature’s legs. Lyn circled behind it—jabbed the spear into its back.

  The golem screamed, finally blowing the golem apart in a splash of tar and stone shards.

  Lyn dropped to one knee. “I can’t… do many more.”

  Kaeden pulled a healing leaf from his belt and pressed it to her arm. “We’ve only beaten two.” as the two looked in the distance and saw more golems

  In the back, Alden was still desperately swinging his arm.

  The saplings stared at him like he was crazy.

  Then—the golems screamed.

  And all the remaining ones rushed forward together.

  “No way,” Lyn whispered.

  Kaeden stood still for just a second. Then his hand trembled.

  He looked at his backpack—everything he’d ever collected as a courier. Maps. Crystals. Gadgets. Memories.

  He threw the entire thing.

  “GET DOWN!”

  Lyn and Alden dove to the floor.

  The explosion wasn’t a blast—it was a symphony of chaos.

  Fire. Ice. Lightning. Smoke. Shards. Color and heat and sound. Every tool he had flared at once—years of salvaging, gathering, building—gone in a single detonation.

  The shockwave knocked over the golems, tore limbs from their sockets, and slammed into the arena walls. Cracks spread like lightning bolts.

  And then—silence.

  The sludge of the dead golems oozed around the outer edges of the shrine’s circle. A bitter, burnt scent filled the air.

  Kaeden collapsed to his knees. His pack—his legacy—was gone.

  His voice cracked. “That was everything…”

  Alden held two saplings, one under each arm. His hands still trembled.

  Lyn lay flat near the center, barely conscious, her spear fallen beside her.

  They had survived.

  But they were drained. Hurt.

  And from the far end of the cavern—

  The wall cracked again.

  High above the arena, behind a carved ledge of rune-lit stone, the observation chamber flickered with a soft, pulsing glow. From here, three figures watched in silence.

  King Terra stood still as stone, his eyes locked on the chamber far below.

  Beside him, George leaned forward, hands gripping the ledge. “They’re struggling,” he muttered. “Even trained soldiers barely survive this trial. And they’re just kids. No rhythm. No training.”

  Ruben, arms folded, didn’t argue. His jaw was clenched. “4 soldiers died while taking this test,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder why this test is so hard?”

  The stone behind them shifted.

  Soft steps.

  Louise walked into view, hands in his pockets, eyes calm.

  George and Ruben turned sharply.

  “What are you doing here?” George demanded. “How did you get past the guardline? This area is off-limits.”

  Louise didn’t stop. He walked past them, up to the edge beside the King, and peered down at the arena. “They’re doing better than I expected.”

  “Answer the question,” Ruben growled.

  The King didn’t react to Louise’s presence at all.

  George glanced at the King. “Who is this?”

  Louise’s voice was quiet but clear. “I was the one who made the test.”

  Both soldiers froze.

  “…What?” George said.

  “That would make you—” Ruben started, and stopped.

  Louise didn’t need to confirm.

  The King did instead. “He is the Terra Origin.”

  George stepped back. Ruben’s hand twitched near his sword, out of reflex—not threat.

  “You’re joking,” George muttered.

  “Why reveal yourself now?”The king started, “You've been hiding for the past 100 years or so.”

  Louise didn’t look. “Because something dangerous is coming.”

  The King turned slightly at that—Not surprised. But something else.

  Concern.

  Real concern.

  Ruben’s voice lowered. “What kind of danger scares the Origin?”

  Louise didn’t answer immediately.

  Then: “I sensed it while going around the kingdom, something larger than anything we’ve seen before is coming, the kind that doesn’t belong to this world.”

  We have to prepare now, Louise said walking away after taking one last look at the kids taking the challenge.

  But they didn’t finish yet, Ruben startered

  The king was already following Louise back up to the castle.

  "They have to pass this test," Louise said, "there is no other option now."

  George and Ruben looked down again, before following the two—just as the cavern wall cracked one final time. And from the darkness beyond, something far larger stepped through.

  High above the arena, behind a carved ledge of rune-lit stone, the observation chamber flickered with a soft, pulsing glow. From here, three figures watched in silence.

  King Terra stood still as stone, his gaze fixed on the trial far below.

  Beside him, George leaned forward, hands gripping the ledge. “They’re struggling,” he muttered. “Even trained soldiers barely survive this trial. And they’re just kids. No rhythm. No training.”

  Ruben, arms crossed, didn’t argue. His jaw tightened. “Four soldiers died when I took this test,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder why it’s even this hard.”

  Behind them, stone shifted.

  Soft footsteps.

  Louise walked into view—calm, hands in his pockets, cloak still dusted from the ruins.

  George and Ruben turned sharply.

  “What are you doing here?” George demanded. “This area’s restricted. How did you even get in?”

  Louise didn’t stop. He walked past them, stepping up beside the King without hesitation. His eyes dropped to the battlefield below. “They’re doing better than I expected.”

  “Answer the question,” Ruben growled.

  The King didn’t react to Louise’s presence at all.

  George looked between them. “Who is this?”

  Louise’s voice was quiet but clear. “I designed the test.”

  Both soldiers froze.

  “…What?” George said.

  “That would make you—” Ruben started, then stopped himself.

  Louise didn’t confirm it.

  The King did.

  “He is the Terra Origin.”

  George took a sharp step back. Ruben’s hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his blade—not as a threat, but out of disbelief.

  “You’re joking,” George muttered.

  “You’ve been hiding for over a hundred years,” the King said softly. “Why reveal yourself now?”

  Louise didn’t turn. “Because something dangerous is coming.”

  The King finally shifted, just slightly. Not surprise—but something heavier.

  Concern.

  Real concern.

  Ruben’s voice dropped. “What kind of danger scares the Origin?”

  Louise was silent for a moment. Then:

  “I sensed it while passing through the outer regions. Something bigger than anything we’ve ever seen. It doesn’t belong to this world.”

  He turned away from the edge.

  “We have to prepare now.”

  George stared. “But the kids—they haven’t even finished the test yet—”

  “They have to finish,” Louise said flatly, glancing back at the cavern. “There’s no other choice anymore.”

  The King was already turning, following Louise as they began walking back toward the castle.

  George and Ruben lingered for a moment—then looked down again toward the cavern floor.

  Just as the far wall cracked open one final time.

  And from the shadows beyond, something far larger began to emerge.

  The far wall cracked—slow this time, deliberate—and two massive golems stepped through.

  They were taller than the rest. Taller than a man. Their movements were no longer twitching or slow—they moved with terrifying intent. Their stone bodies were smoother, more defined, with limbs that moved fluidly like sculpted armor. Crude, mask-like faces bore hollow eyes and etched mouths. They didn’t shuffle. They stalked.

  And they were watching the shrine.

  “They’re… different,” Kaeden muttered, wiping blood from his brow.

  “They’re thinking,” Lyn said, forcing herself to her feet. Her knuckles whitened around her spear.

  The two golems began a slow approach, one veering left, the other right—circling the shrine like predators.

  Alden stood at the center, arms around the saplings. His heart was pounding. The others were still injured. Their weapons, tools, strength—almost gone.

  “I’ve got nothing left,” Kaeden breathed. “Unless you figure that ring out”

  Alden blinked, mind racing. “I think… I need to trade something. That’s how it worked before.”

  Kaeden threw his hands up. “I just threw everything I had!”

  Lyn reached into her coat and pulled out a small velvet pouch. She tossed it to Alden without a word.

  Kaeden stared. Then sighed, dug into his belt, and handed over a few silver coins. “That’s all my money.”

  Alden clutched the offerings, staring at the ring. “Okay… come on…”

  One of the golems lunged forward.

  “Move!” Lyn shouted, sprinting to meet it.

  The golem slammed into her, hurling her backward across the arena. She hit hard, but pushed herself up, gritting her teeth, bleeding.

  The second golem slunk to the far edge of the ring, circling the saplings. Its steps were measured, almost graceful. It was hunting.

  “They’re trying to scatter the saplings,” Kaeden growled.

  He stepped forward, dagger drawn. “I’ll keep it busy—Alden, don’t let any of them run.”

  Alden scrambled to corral the panicking saplings as the golem circled. His eyes darted to the ring. Still dull. Still silent.

  Think. Focus.

  The plant he summoned before… it came when he thought of the King’s power. The vines. The walls. The hunger in the earth. He kept the images and the ideas of the King’s power in his head.

  A third golem erupted from a new crack in the cavern.

  Lyn spotted it mid-fight and screamed, “Alden! It’s heading for the shrine!”

  Alden turned. The third golem was sprinting—fast, direct, deadly.

  Without hesitation, he swiped the ring.

  The world shattered.

  White. Endless. Silent.

  The stall waited.

  “Finally…,” Alden stumbled toward it, clutching the money. “Please work. Please work.”

  He dumped everything onto the counter—every coin, every pouch, his hands trembling.

  “Something strong. Something to protect them. Please…”

  The void fractured.

  He was back.

  Power surged through him—hot and alive.

  Without hesitation, Alden slammed both hands to the ground.

  Green light exploded.

  The earth came alive.

  Vines twisted up from the floor, thorned and writhing. Carnivorous plants bloomed with razor jaws. Walls of root and bark snapped upward like rising towers. The golems screeched, caught in a storm of thorns and teeth.

  One was crushed by massive roots.

  Another was dragged under by vines, its limbs torn off.

  The third leapt—almost reaching the shrine—only to be ripped apart midair by a flower the size of a wagon.

  Then silence.

  The plants wilted.

  The walls crumbled.

  The saplings peeked out—safe.

  Alden collapsed to one knee, breath ragged.

  The shrine pulsed with blinding light, then released a cascade of soft, shimmering sparks. The Terra Test was complete.

  Alden looked up, stunned. “We… did it.”

  Kaeden limped over, staring at the fading vines. “If you did that before this would have been a lot easier”

  Lyn staggered beside them and gave Alden a tired tap on the head. “You actually did it,” she said, smiling faintly.

  It was the first time Alden had seen her smile since the ruins.

  Kaeden dropped down beside them. “How much did you trade for that?”

  Alden glanced at the ring, now dark again, and muttered with a grin, “All of your money.”

  Kaeden sighed and dropped to the ground.

  Alden shrugged.

  Lyn chuckled quietly. “Are the others coming down?”

  Alden leaned back, catching his breath. “You’d think they’d at least congratulate us. Or I don’t know—throw a ceremony.”

  But then—

  The cavern shook.

  A deep, guttural roar tore through the stone—so loud it felt like it rattled their bones.

  Then came the explosion.

  Somewhere far above, something massive had erupted. The ceiling quaked. Debris fell. The shrine itself flickered.

  “What was that?” Kaeden whispered, his voice trembling.

  Lyn backed toward the stairwell. “That… wasn’t part of the test.”

  Another rumble. Louder this time. Closer.

  The children stared at one another, pale and wide-eyed.

  Then—together—they ran.

  Up the stairs. Toward the light. Toward whatever came next.