Zane stood at the edge of the Sun Temple's inner sanctum, scowling as sunlight glared off every surface like the entire building had sothing to prove.
"Alright," he muttered. "Remind again how my artifact ended up in a sun-thed oven?"
Link floated beside him, eager as ever. "You see, centuries ago, during the Era of Fractured Skies—"
Zane waved him off. "Nope. Already bored. That's enough exposition."
Nyx chuckled softly in the back of his mind. "You could at least pretend to care."
"Can't hear you," Zane muttered, already walking inside. "Too busy being blinded."
The temple's interior was worse. Pillars shimred with golden light. Everything sparkled. Birds sang in harmony. Sowhere, harp music played itself — Zane didn't even want to know how.
And there it was.
On a floating sunstone pedestal, bathed in a literal sunbeam: the Ring of Auric Dominion.
It glowed like it was blessed by the gods themselves. Golden. Regal. Powerful.
Zane smirked.
"Mine."
He took a step forward.
And imdiately stopped.
The pedestal was... still the sa distance away.
He frowned.
He walked again. Then jogged. Then sprinted.
Nothing.
"Am I—? Wait. Am I lagging in real life?"
He turned around. The entrance was still behind him. He hadn't moved an inch.
"Oh no," he whispered, "not this magic nonsense again."
He tried flying — flapping Void-ford wings. Still no progress.
He tried Voidwalking — and the world literally rubber-banded him back like he'd glitched out of bounds in a video ga.
"Okay," he said, gritting his teeth, "clearly, subtlety's not working."
He stepped back, raised his hand, and let his Void energy surge up from deep within.
Power crackled.
The shadows around his feet twisted.
His eyes flashed red—then purple.
The air grew colder as his aura manifested in full.
And then—
A radiant beam of divine sunfire dropped out of the ceiling like a divine frying pan and SLAPPED him into the floor.
"ARGHHHHHH—IS THIS LEGAL?!" Zane scread as he flailed on the ground, lightly steaming. His cloak caught fire. Nyx screeched in surprise. Link yelled, "ROLL! ROLL!!"
Zane rolled across the marble floor like a flaming rotisserie chicken.
The beam faded.
He lay there, smoking, blinking at the ceiling.
"I almost got cooked like midday toast..."
"The temple doesn't allow Void energy," Link said far too calmly. "I did try to explain—"
"I'll shove this whole temple into the sun," Zane muttered.
After recovering (and mildly threatening the concept of daylight), Zane stood again.
This ti, he approached the ring without powering up.
And again — he went nowhere.
Zane glared at the ring. The ring glowed smugly.
He tried everything: crawling, leaping, moonwalking. He even tried doing the worm in case the temple had a sense of humor.
Nothing worked.
Finally, he gave up and flopped down on the sun-ward marble like a man defeated.
"Maybe I have to confess my sins. Or bake a holy pie. Or dance the sacred cha-cha."
"No, no," Link muttered, flipping through an ancient scroll. "It's not about power. It's intent."
Zane blinked. "Intent? What, like I have to want it hard enough?"
Nyx answered, "Not want... but rember why you want it."
Zane went still.
He closed his eyes.
And rembered: the monsters, the betrayal, the system, the sword, the mission — his true self.
The Heir of the End.
He let his energy rise again — not Void this ti, but sothing deeper, older — laced with mory and identity.
A dark crown shimred faintly into view above his head.
The air trembled.
The ring pulsed.
And suddenly—
The space collapsed.
Zane was no longer far.
The ring now hovered in front of him, pulsing like a heart that had found its match.
Then — whoosh — it launched itself into his palm.
The Ring of Auric Dominion accepted him.
Light exploded from the pedestal, forming a blazing halo around Zane for just a second before dying out like a breath extinguished.
The crown vanished.
His cloak stopped smoking.
And Zane simply muttered:
"Finally."
He turned to leave.
As he reached the temple door, he looked back dramatically and said:
"For the record... your sunbeam sucks."
And he vanished in a whisper of shadow, middle finger taphorically extended toward the ceiling.
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