The air in Dún Scaith felt heavier than usual, the shadows of the fortress stretching long and jagged under the violet sky of the Shadowlands. Kael stood in the training courtyard, the Gáe Bolg at his side, his body still sore from the previous day's ordeal with the Ríastrad. But there was no time to rest—Scáthach had been relentless, drilling him on control, precision, and endurance. Today, though, something felt different.
Scáthach stood across from him, her crimson hair glinting in the faint light of the standing stones. Her emerald eyes held a new intensity, and she carried a small, intricately carved wooden box instead of her usual spear. Kael eyed it warily, his modern instincts screaming plot device.
"You've improved," Scáthach said, her tone as sharp as ever. "Your movements are cleaner, and you're not flailing like a child anymore. But control isn't enough. You need to understand the power you wield—and the forces tied to it."
Kael adjusted his stance, the Gáe Bolg's runes glowing softly. "I'm guessing that box isn't full of cookies."
Scáthach's lips twitched, a rare flicker of amusement. "No. It's a relic of the Sidhe, a gift from the Aos Sí to test their champions. Inside is a fragment of the Otherworld's essence—a trial for those who bear Lugh's power. Pass it, and you'll gain the Sidhe's blessing. Fail, and it will break your mind."
Kael groaned, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Why does everything here come with a side of 'break your mind'? Can't I just fight another monster?"
"You've fought enough beasts," Scáthach said, setting the box on the ground. "This is different. The Sidhe's trial will test your spirit, not your body. You'll face your fears, your doubts—and the Ríastrad. You can't brute-force this, Kael. You'll need to think."
Kael sighed, but he nodded. "Alright. Let's get this over with. What do I do?"
Scáthach opened the box, revealing a small, glowing orb of blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The air around it shimmered, and Kael felt a pull, like the orb was calling to him. "Touch it," Scáthach said. "And don't resist. Let it guide you."
Kael hesitated, then reached out. The moment his fingers brushed the orb, the world dissolved.
He stood in a misty forest, the trees ancient and twisted, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out the sky. The Gáe Bolg was still in his hand, but its runes were dim, as if the spear itself was uncertain. The air was thick with whispers—voices that sounded like his own, but darker, angrier.
You're a fraud, one whispered. A modern boy playing hero. You'll fail them all.
Kael spun, searching for the source, but there was nothing—just mist and shadows. His chest tightened, the familiar heat of the Ríastrad stirring. "Not now," he muttered, forcing himself to breathe like Scáthach had taught him. "I'm in control."
The mist parted, revealing a figure—a mirror image of himself, but warped. This Kael was taller, his muscles bulging, his eyes glowing with the same unnatural light Kael had seen during the Ríastrad. The shadow-Kael held a Gáe Bolg of its own, its runes blazing red.
"You can't control me," the shadow-Kael growled, its voice a distorted echo. "I'm the real you—the power you pretend to wield. Give in, and we'll be unstoppable."
Kael raised his spear, his heart pounding. "I'm not pretending. And I'm not giving in."
The shadow-Kael charged, its spear striking with terrifying force. Kael blocked, the impact sending him skidding back. The shadow was fast—faster than anything he'd faced, even Scáthach. Every strike was a mirror of his own moves, but amplified, fueled by rage. The Ríastrad's heat surged again, threatening to take over.
"Fight it!" Kael heard Scáthach's voice, faint but clear, as if she were speaking through the trial. "You're stronger than your fear!"
Kael gritted his teeth, focusing on her words. He couldn't let the Ríastrad win—not here, not ever. He dodged a thrust from the shadow, then countered with a precise strike, aiming for its arm. The shadow blocked, but Kael was ready. He feinted, then spun, using a move Scáthach had drilled into him—a low sweep that knocked the shadow off balance.
"You're not me," Kael said, his voice steady. "You're just a part of me. And I decide what to do with you."
The shadow roared, its form flickering, but Kael didn't let up. He struck again, the Gáe Bolg's runes flaring as he channeled his will into the spear. The shadow-Kael shattered, dissolving into mist, and the forest faded.
Kael blinked, finding himself back in the courtyard. The orb in the box was gone, replaced by a faint blue glow that now shimmered around the Gáe Bolg. Scáthach stood nearby, her arms crossed, a rare look of pride in her eyes.
"You passed," she said simply. "The Sidhe's blessing is yours. Your spear now carries their magic—a shield against the Ríastrad's chaos. It won't stop the frenzy, but it will help you stay grounded."
Kael exhaled, the tension draining from his body. "That was… intense. I saw myself—or what I could become. It was terrifying."
Scáthach stepped closer, her expression softening. "Fear is part of being a warrior, Kael. Facing it makes you stronger. You did well."
Kael managed a grin, despite his exhaustion. "Thanks. I think I'm starting to get why Cú Chulainn spoke so highly of you. You're tough, but you know how to push someone to their best."
Scáthach's cheeks tinted slightly, a rare crack in her stoic facade. "Don't flatter me, spear-bearer. You're still a long way from mastering your power." She turned away, but Kael caught the faintest smile on her lips.
A flock of crows circled overhead, their caws echoing through the courtyard. Morrígan's presence was unmistakable, and Kael felt a shiver down his spine. Scáthach noticed it too, her eyes narrowing.
"She's impatient," Scáthach said. "Your training here is nearly done. The Morrígan has plans for you—plans that will take you beyond the Shadowlands."
Kael frowned, glancing at the sky. "Plans? Like what?"
"War," Scáthach said, her tone grim. "The Fomorians grow bolder. Balor's forces are massing, and the Tuatha Dé Danann need a champion. You're not ready—not fully—but you're closer than you were."
Kael nodded, the weight of his destiny settling on his shoulders. "Guess it's time to step up, huh? But before I go… thanks, Scáthach. For everything."
Scáthach met his gaze, her emerald eyes steady. "You're welcome, Kael Lughson. But don't thank me yet. The real trials are ahead—and I'll be watching to see if you're truly worthy of that spear."
As the crows descended, signaling Morrígan's return, Kael felt a mix of anticipation and dread. He'd grown stronger in the Shadowlands, but the war awaiting him would test him in ways he couldn't yet imagine. With Scáthach's lessons and the Sidhe's blessing, he was ready to face it—whatever "it" might be.