The silence in the void was suffocating. The black expanse stretched infinitely in all directions, an oppressive stillness pressing down on them. Luna felt the air grow heavy, thick with magic and uncertainty. There was no ground beneath her feet, no horizon to guide them. It was as though they were suspended in some dimension beyond the realm of time.
Alma held the silver arrow in her hands, its gleaming surface catching the faint, otherworldly light that seemed to emanate from nowhere at all. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the shaft, her expression taut with concentration. It was clear this trial wasn't just about answering a question, like Luna's riddle, or facing a fear, like Talia's challenge. No, this was far more personal—something that would test Alma's very essence.
The voice that had spoken to them earlier—a deep, resonant tone—now echoed once again, vibrating through the emptiness around them.
"What are you willing to sacrifice? A life, a memory, or a future?"
Alma's gaze hardened. She stared at the arrow, her knuckles whitening as she clutched it tightly. Luna could feel the tension radiating off her. Alma was facing a decision that no one should ever have to make—not just what she was willing to lose, but who. Luna knew Alma's past—her mother had been a powerful figure in the world of Norse mythology, but Alma had never spoken of her mother's final words. They were a painful memory that she kept locked away, guarded by layers of defenses.
"Alma..." Luna murmured, stepping closer. "You don't have to do this."
But Alma didn't respond. Her expression was set in stone, her gaze locked on the arrow. Talia, standing just behind them, placed a comforting hand on Alma's shoulder, though it didn't seem to provide much comfort. The air around them thickened, as if the trial itself was waiting for Alma to make her choice.
The voice returned, but now it was softer, almost coaxing.
"A memory of love, or a future filled with fear. What will you choose?"
Alma's breath hitched. Her eyes flickered briefly with doubt—an emotion Luna rarely saw in her friend—but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Slowly, almost reverently, Alma raised the arrow to eye level. The silver tip seemed to gleam with a cold, unrelenting light.
"I—" Alma started, her voice cracking with emotion. She paused, swallowing hard. The words felt heavy, as though they were weighted with the burden of everything she had never said. She closed her eyes, her body shaking slightly.
"I choose the memory," she whispered. "I'll give up the last words my mother ever spoke to me."
Luna's heart clenched at the rawness of Alma's decision. The last time Alma's mother had spoken to her had been before she'd disappeared, before Alma had come to the camp. She knew Alma had never truly accepted that loss. It had haunted her, silently, for years. To let it go was not just a sacrifice of a memory—it was Alma letting go of the last piece of her connection to her past, to her family.
The air around them seemed to shift. A breeze, light as a whisper, stirred the empty space. The arrow in Alma's hands began to pulse, its silvery light growing brighter with every passing second. Alma's fingers tightened around it one last time before she slowly, almost reverently, released her grip.
The arrow floated into the air, spinning slowly, like a compass pointing north, until it hovered before Alma's chest. The moment it touched her, a brilliant flash of light enveloped her, and Luna had to shield her eyes.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent. The weight of the decision hung in the air like a thick fog, and Luna felt as if time had stopped altogether. She held her breath, waiting for the aftermath.
Then, the light dimmed, and Alma's eyes fluttered open. The arrow had vanished, as had the oppressive weight of the trial. She stood still for a moment, her face pale, but her expression no longer tight with the pain of choice. There was a soft sadness there, but it was tempered by a sense of relief.
"It's done," Alma said quietly, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and something else—acceptance, perhaps. "The last words... they're gone."
Luna took a step forward, wanting to say something comforting, but the words felt inadequate. Alma had just made an unimaginable sacrifice, and there was no way Luna could truly understand the depth of the loss. Instead, she placed a hand gently on her friend's shoulder.
"We're proud of you," Luna said, her voice steady. "I'm proud of you."
Talia nodded in agreement, her eyes softening as she met Alma's gaze. "You're stronger than you know."
For a moment, they stood in quiet solidarity, before the air around them shifted once more. The ground beneath their feet solidified, and the mist that had surrounded them receded into nothingness, leaving only a single, narrow path ahead. The path was bathed in the same ethereal light that had guided them through the Crossroads.
The trials were over. But Luna knew, deep down, that the hardest part of their journey had only just begun.
Finn, who had been standing quietly at the edge of the group, nodded in approval. "Good. We can move forward now."
Luna glanced around, her gaze lingering on the new path. She could sense something ahead—an unknown danger or challenge that would test them all. But now, they were bound together by the sacrifices they had made and the trials they had overcome.
She turned to Alma, her heart heavy with empathy, but also with a newfound admiration. "You're not alone, you know. We're all in this together."
Alma gave a tight, sad smile. "I know."
With that, they stepped forward, their journey continuing along the uncertain path ahead. Luna had no idea what awaited them, but she knew they were stronger for having faced the trials—and for having made it through. The quest to retrieve the bows was far from over, and the true tests would be yet to come.
