Elyria Valcairn, royal pain in the ass to many and occasional genius, stands before the First Door of Madness.
Unlike Ivar''s door, which was all ominous and brooding, hers looks…
Excessive.
Golden engravings. A giant crown shape on top. Velvet curtains draped over the edges like a theater entrance.
And—
She squints.
"Are those actual gemstones in the door handle?"
She grabs one and tugs.
It does not come off.
Tch. Worth a shot.
A voice echoes from the door.
"Enter, Elyria Valcairn. See the truth that awaits you."
Elyria frowns. "Y''know, you could just say, ''Come inside.'' You don''t have to be so dramatic."
The voice ignores her.
She sighs and steps in.
---
The moment she steps through, the world changes.
No more eerie hallways. No more ancient magic in the air.
Instead—
A throne room.
Her throne room.
But wrong.
The walls are cracked. The banners are torn. The chandelier is on the floor, still burning.
And at the center—
A pile of corpses.
Valcairn corpses.
Her father. Her mother. Her royal siblings. Advisors. Generals. Even that one butler who always side-eyes her.
Elyria stares.
Tilts her head.
Then waves a hand.
"Okay, okay. Time out. Who killed them?"
The vision does not answer.
Elyria clicks her tongue. "C''mon, don''t be shy. Was it rebels? Assassins? A coup? Some dramatic betrayal? I need context before I decide whether to be horrified or just mildly annoyed."
A figure steps into view.
Shrouded in shadows. Cloaked in black and red.
And when they step forward—
Elyria gasps.
Because standing before her is—
Future Elyria.
A much older, much scarier version of herself.
Eyes cold. Expression unreadable. Holding a bloodstained rapier.
Elyria blinks. "…Oh."
Future Elyria stares at her.
Young Elyria stares back.
Silence.
Then—
Elyria snaps her fingers. "Wait, wait, wait. So I killed them?"
Future Elyria says nothing.
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Elyria snorts. "Pfft. Okay, I get it. Real shocking twist and all, but you''re not actually saying anything, so I''m gonna need a yes-or-no answer here."
Future Elyria remains silent.
Elyria sighs.
"Fine. If you won''t talk, I''ll just assume the worst. But also, why?"
She gestures to the bodies.
"I mean, they''re annoying, but I wouldn''t go this far. Did Father eat the last slice of cake again? Did Mother call me a disappointment one too many times? Was my brother wearing those hideous gold-trimmed boots?"
Future Elyria finally speaks.
"It was necessary."
Elyria raises an eyebrow. "…Okay, see, that''s not an explanation. That''s just vague villain dialogue."
Future Elyria glares.
"You do not understand now, but you will."
Elyria crosses her arms. "Ugh. Future me is so cryptic. No wonder people want to assassinate us."
Future Elyria lifts her rapier.
A dark aura swirls around it.
"One day, you will stand where I stand. You will make the same choice. No matter how much you fight it, your fate is sealed."
Elyria leans forward.
"Alright, but like—do I get anything cool out of it?"
Future Elyria blinks. "What?"
Elyria gestures. "Like, am I stronger? Do I get some cool scars? Maybe a tragic backstory upgrade? I mean, if I have to commit regicide, I''d at least like a cape or something."
Future Elyria just stares.
Elyria shrugs.
"No, but seriously. What''s my motivation here? Revenge? Power? Boredom? Because I feel like future me is the type to kill everyone over something dumb, like ''someone stole my throne cushion.''"
Future Elyria steps closer.
"You will see in time."
Elyria frowns. "Ugh, this is why I hate time travel nonsense."
Future Elyria lifts the rapier.
Elyria''s eyes narrow. "Wait, wait, WAIT. Are we about to FIGHT?! Because I am not mentally prepared to fight myself."
Future Elyria lunges.
Elyria screams.
---
Pain.
Then—
Darkness.
Then—
Elyria wakes up.
She''s back outside the door.
No corpses. No future version of herself. Just the empty halls of the Trials of Madness.
She sits up, groaning.
"Ugh. That was… terrible."
She pauses.
Then frowns.
"…Wait. Was that even real? Or was I just getting trolled by an evil door?"
A voice whispers.
"The Trial of Truth has ended."
Elyria rubs her temples.
"Great. Fantastic. I have so many questions, and absolutely zero answers."
She stands. Dusts herself off.
Then shrugs.
"Eh. Guess I''ll figure it out when I get there."
With that, she marches forward—
Ready for whatever insanity comes next.
---
Elyria stares at the Second Door of Madness.
She''s seen many doors in her life. Fancy doors. Big doors. Small doors. Annoying doors that squeak for no reason.
This?
This door is trying way too hard.
It''s tall. Ridiculously tall. Engraved with spinning gears, runes, and—wait, is that a tiny orchestra carved into the frame?
Elyria squints.
"Why does this look like something a bored architect made while drunk?"
The voice of the Trial ignores her.
"Enter, Elyria Valcairn. Witness your past."
Elyria sighs. "Fine, fine. Let''s get this over with."
She pushes open the door and steps inside.
---
The moment she enters, the world shifts.
No eerie corridors. No cryptic whispers.
Instead—
She stands in a lavish royal chamber.
Soft candlelight. Velvet carpets. Gold everywhere (because of course).
And—
A baby.
Elyria freezes.
"...Excuse me?"
There, nestled in a luxurious crib fit for a tiny emperor, is a chubby little baby with soft silver hair and big, royal-blue eyes.
A baby Elyria.
Elyria stares.
Then grimaces.
"Ugh. I was one of those babies? All pudgy and helpless? Disgusting."
She turns away. "Alright, cool. I saw my past self. Trial over. Let''s—"
Then—
She hears voices.
Familiar voices.
Elyria slowly turns back.
At the crib, two figures stand over baby Elyria.
Her father.
And a mysterious woman.
Not the Queen. Not her mother. Someone else.
Elyria narrows her eyes. "…Who the hell is that?"
The vision continues.
Her father, King Raymond Valcairn, looks tense.
"Are you certain about this?" he asks.
The woman, cloaked in deep violet, nods. "You know what she is. The child is not ordinary."
Elyria leans forward.
"…What?"
The woman gently strokes baby Elyria''s cheek. "Her Core is not like ours. If she is not hidden, if she is not protected, the others will see her as a threat."
Her father scoffs. "You speak as if my own daughter is a curse."
"Not a curse." The woman''s eyes glow faintly. "A weapon."
Elyria''s brain breaks.
"…I''m sorry, what?"
The vision continues.
"You can raise her as a Valcairn, but her power will awaken. And when it does, she will shake the world."
The woman turns to leave. "Remember this, Aldric. One day, the truth will come for her. And when it does—"
She disappears.
The scene shatters.
---
Elyria stumbles back into reality.
She stands before the Second Door, eyes wide, mind broken.
"…I… what?"
She grabs her head.
"Wait, wait, wait, hold on. What do you mean, I''m a weapon?!"
She paces.
"So I wasn''t just some royal brat? I had some—some hidden power? Some secret Core? Nobody told me?"
She stops. Gasps.
"Wait. Does that mean—"
She points at nothing.
"—I''m actually cool?!"
The air does not answer.
Elyria groans. "Ugh, I don''t know whether to be traumatized or hyped."
She pauses.
Then smirks.
"…No, I''ll go with hyped."
With that, she marches forward.
Her past is a mystery. But who cares?
She''ll just make her own truth.
---
The Last Door of Madness looms before Elyria.
It''s so dramatic.
Tall, ominous, covered in runes that are clearly just there to look fancy.
Elyria squints.
"Alright, door. I''ve had enough of your nonsense."
The door does not respond.
Instead, it slowly creaks open, revealing—
A cozy little countryside house.
A gentle breeze. Flowers swaying. Birds chirping.
Elyria frowns. "This is suspiciously pleasant."
She steps inside.
---
Elyria finds herself sitting at a wooden table.
Before her, a steaming cup of tea.
And across from her—
A mysterious figure in a white robe, sipping their own tea like they absolutely have an overpriced philosophy degree.
"Elyria Valcairn." The figure smiles. "You have fought. Suffered. Endured."
Elyria nods. "Yep. Sounds about right."
The figure gestures. "And now, we offer you a choice."
Elyria leans forward. "Ooooh, is this where you offer me some insane power? Maybe reveal I''m actually a lost god or something?"
The figure pauses. Then slowly shakes their head.
"No. We offer you peace."
Elyria blinks.
"…Excuse me?"
The figure raises a hand.
A warm golden light surrounds Elyria.
"You may choose to seal your Core. No more battles. No more burdens. No more destiny."
The scene shifts.
Suddenly, Elyria is in a peaceful village.
She sees herself—but different.
No sword. No Core.
Instead, she''s…
Farming.
Farming.
FARMING.
Elyria''s jaw drops.
"WHAT AM I DOING?! WHY AM I HOLDING A RAKE?!"
The scene continues.
Her "normal" self is surrounded by smiling villagers.
A man pats her on the back. "Another good harvest, Elyria!"
A child runs up. "Miss Elyria! Can you tell us another story?"
Elyria watches in horror as her "future self" laughs. "Of course, kids! After all, I''m just a simple farmer now!"
Elyria grabs her head.
"NO. NO, NO, NO. THIS IS A NIGHTMARE."
---
The robed figure sips their tea. "This is the future we offer. A quiet life, free from the weight of power."
Elyria shakes violently.
"You''re telling me… that I give up my Core… my royal status… everything I am… just to become a small-town NPC?!"
The figure nods. "You will find joy in simplicity."
Elyria slams the table.
"JOY IN SIMPLICITY?! I AM A VALCAIRN! WE HAVE A ROYAL DUTY! ALSO, I CAN''T FARM! I KILL PLANTS JUST BY LOOKING AT THEM!"
The figure sips tea calmly.
"But there will be no war. No tragedy. Just peace."
Elyria crosses her arms. "Okay, but counteroffer—give me power instead."
The figure pauses.
"…That is not the offer."
Elyria leans forward. "Okay, okay, but listen. What if I take power and ALSO enjoy my life?"
"…That is not the offer."
Elyria squints. "…You''re really sticking to the script, huh?"
"It is the nature of the trial."
Elyria leans back.
Then she grins.
"Alright. I''ve decided."
The figure waits.
Elyria stands up dramatically.
"I CHOOSE—"
"—TO LIVE AS I WANT!"
The world cracks apart.
The golden light shatters.
The peaceful village fades into nothing.
The tea table explodes. (Unnecessary, but cool.)
The robed figure sighs.
"You are impossible."
Elyria laughs.
"Yep. And proud of it."
She walks forward, unshaken.
Because this trial was never a choice.
She was never meant to be ordinary.
And she sure as hell wasn''t going to be a farmer.
---
To be continued