[center][h1][b]Iraleth Kyrios[/b][/h1][/center] Shaktan advances, so jealously hoarded. And only now given out to those deemed worthy. A small victory, at least. Though the knowledge that her home was suffering from arcane shortages just so the Shaktans could keep their quality of life still rankled at her. That resentment prevented her from feeling much else about the evident headmistress's speech, but she got the gist of the important parts. Touch the wisp. Endure a trial. It figured that the tests weren't over yet. And fortunate that it wasn't another of the body. Iraleth wouldn't have lasted in that. In a test of her resolve? She would prevail. The paladin took a breath, steadied her mind, and made to clench a gauntleted fist around the Adapa. ___ Flames. Shadows. Chaos. The stench of blood and ash in the air. She knew where she was. How could she not? This was the one event that had defined the course of her life up until now. Iraleth was but eight years old again, cowering and hiding in the ruins of the orphanage as paladins and cultists battled throughout her village. She was weak again. Powerless. Unable to defend her world around her or even herself. The screams of the dying haunted her now as they did in her nightmares, but she forced herself to listen. A stray bolt of darkness caught the girl cowering next to her, and she withered away without being so much as able to scream. Beth. They'd been good friends, once. Iraleth had lived this nightmare once already. To simply experience it again? She already did that in her dreams. And if she were correct, [i]he[/i] would be appearing any time now. The sounds of battle were dying down, and Iraleth knew what was coming. As if on cue, the armored form of Eltoras Kyrios strode into the ruined building, and his armet gazed down upon the child's prone, half-dead form. But he didn't speak as she remembered. [b][i]"Iraleth died here."[/i][/b] The paladin's voice boomed, his sword planted into the ground as his helmet gazed down in judgement at her. [b]"What..?"[/b] [b][i]"Any semblance of your own will died when you decided to follow someone else's dreams out of gratitude for saving your life. Past all your delusions of legacy and idealism, this is the last time Iraleth as her own person existed."[/i][/b] [b]"How dare you?!"[/b] Iraleth gnashed her teeth, her childlike form slamming a fist against the ground. [b]"You speak this nonsense to me wearing my father's armor?"[/b] [b][i]"I dare."[/i][/b] Eltoras's armor nodded. [b][i]"Do you truly believe that you have any strength of spirit while carrying on the dream of another? The only thing that sustains you is a borrowed dream. How sad, for one to lack a will of her own."[/i][/b] Iraleth let loose a wordless scream of defiance as she rose, her body in the dream returning to as it was in real life. Ten years older, clad in plate, and clutching a sword. She charged, and the two clashed, a maddened duel beginning. [b][i]"This is your answer? Base violence? Defeating me will not make my words any less correct. Did you not just condemn two others for attempting to do such this past hour?"[/i][/b] Thrust, parry, riposte. Their back-and-forth went on. [b]"You defile my father's honor."[/b] Iraleth hissed, taking her left hand off the hilt of her sword to seize her foe's weapon by the blade. [b]"I have never denied that what drives me is not entirely of my own will. But I will not let you mock those who put faith in Eltoras Kyrios, who put faith in me!"[/b] With her opponent's weapon locked up, she raised a plated boot and stomped down on her opposite number's foot, causing him to recoil and stagger. [b][i]"Bold words. And when the weight of those borrowed dreams crushes you? What then? You may as well fight out of mere obligation without a will of your own."[/i][/b] The armored figure raised a fist and slammed it into Iraleth's jaw, the both of them stumbling back after a round of brutal melee. [b]"It can try. These wings of mine are not mine own, but I soar all the same!"[/b] Iraleth bellowed, raising her sword in front of her to present arms as wind whipped around her armor. [b]"Obligation is duty. Duty is its own reward. I would rather the world praise those who came before me, than praise the one carrying their legacy onward. Now, enough of this. I reject you! ON BORROWED WINGS!"[/b] The Inheritor's armor manifested around Iraleth, and she shot forward, impaling the simulacrum of her father's likeness in one sudden stroke. [b][i]"Spoken...like a good and proper knight..."[/i][/b] The figure gurgled its last words, the dream collapsing around the two of them as the Inheritor watched on dispassionately. ___ Iraleth slowly opened her eyes, finding Principal Raja's and meeting her with a stoic gaze. This little test had failed to break her. Now to see who it would. To her surprise, it seemed two of her compatriots had already broken free before her. Impressive.