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However, Kieran doubted she was actually young. All of the Myths had held this duty for a considerably long time. It was likely a part of her power to remain so young, looking no older than a demure young maiden.

Like Astraea, this woman was dressed in cloth robing. It was primarily white in color, with cyan threads forming intricate designs. Those threads appeared quite strange, doing something to Kieran\'s mind that he didn\'t completely understand.

This woman\'s name was Ferreira. And the records surrounding her abilities were stranger than most of the rest. Some said she was a Spirit given a semblance of humanity through mystical means; others said she was an individual weaved solely of Spirit.

Kieran didn\'t know, but he did understand from her chant that her presence and purpose were intricately linked to Spirit. Whether that was the race or principle… or perhaps a mixture of the two, Kieran didn\'t know.

As the Sacred Myth, Ferreira gave off an air of sanctity that calmed the spirit. Her clear sky-blue hair fell in an otherworldly cascade of vivacity while her eyes of the same color seemed spirited and zealous.

"…I am the Spirit conjured, weaver of zeal and instiller of temperance. I am the bridge that brings forth and connects to the well. Union of Spirit and Spirits, Summoner of the Invigor Soul, my presence is needed. I pull upon the Sacred Chain so that a new bridge may be created, a new link formed."

Of the six that had gone, the effects of Ferreira\'s chant were the most noticeable. A literal bridge had been formed and stretched deep into this portal\'s unknown depths.

\'Oh… so she was the literal bridge.\'

Then, it was Scar\'s turn. And his expression began to contort into something ugly and demonic. Argexes\' Blood was stimulated, seething like a raging ocean within that robust man.

His crimson hair darkened in color. His eyes reddened, becoming the color of ancient blood as he gained inhuman pupils. It was similar to Kieran\'s transformation, except Scar\'s presence was suffocating, impressing upon everyone like an interminable weight.

A guttural and gruesome voice escaped.

"…I am the container of the Drained Blood, that which was forged to destroy and sow seeds of death and ruin. I am the fiend that knows no mercy and only carnage. I am War\'s bloodied weapon against the Maddened, the stained light to devour the Dark. I pull upon the Condemned Chain so that a new vessel may be condemned."

\'…Condemned?\'

Kieran didn\'t like how that word made him feel. Of all the Oaths, only two bore negative connotations. That was the Tenebrous Chain, belonging to Zephyr, and the Condemned Chain belonging to Scar.

As the thought struck Kieran, he instinctively stared at Altair, who gazed back at him.

They exchanged unspoken words with their eyes, understanding that their fates were not as simple as the rest of the Myths. 

With the Oath complete, every potential Inheritor felt something strange stir within their body. The feeling was invasive and left them feeling violated in a way they couldn\'t describe.

Then, a voice belonging to the portal itself spoke into everyone\'s mind… spirit, something Kieran couldn\'t place. It felt like he was feeling these words rather than listening to them. It was an unnerving but uniquely marvelous sensation.

The Cycle of Inheritance revolves once more. However, many times its revolution has been stopped. And often, fate\'s brightness has dimmed, the dismal threatening to prevail.

Kieran suspected the talk of this Cycle was related to Astraea\'s mention of finally bringing forth a New Generation of Myths. 

Discussion of Cycles and Generation was beyond his realm of knowledge, but he would be plunged into it nonetheless. He had accepted this fate. Or, maybe he was drawn to it. Still, he wondered what a halted revolution could do.

More than that, he wanted to know what this dismal fate the voice mentioned was. But, it didn\'t seem like the owner of this voice, wherever they may be, was keen on answering questions.

The voice continued to speak about things Kieran had questioned before.

Old Myths, your mantles have long since matured, becoming a burden that weighs down your Ascent. You all have remained stagnant, locked in place, and encumbered by the Broken Cycle.

New Myths, this is your test. To understand what a Myth is, you must understand that glory is lost upon you. A Myth\'s purpose and power is to be unknown, unseen, but still mentioned. 

Together, you Myths form the force against the unseen threat, for you are just as unseen.

Come forth, New Myths.

Scar and the others retreated to the rear, dutifully opening spaces for their chosen Inheritors to step forward with a tentative approach. A peculiar pressure and presence now filled the room, making them all wary and guarded.

It felt like one misstep could cost them their lives. And none of these people wanted to know what losing a life here meant. Amidst the presence of this portal, the players felt detached from the system.

And a simple command proved that they were.

There was no answer from the Character Panel, Quest Log, or anything remotely related.

A waterfall of unusual energy cascaded the seven, washing them in a presence that laid everything about them bare.

Kieran thought this part of the ordeal would be personal, but it wasn\'t. Pertinent and precious information was shared amongst all of them.

As expected, each Inheritor had reached Level 50, and the voice had classified them as having reached the peak of their Priming. But the information the voice disseminated went further than that.

Apparently, the Anchor\'s character and firmness of their accumulation decided the Trial\'s difficulty. 

Aatrox, Chosen Inheritor of the Condemned Chain, Bearer of Imprinted Significance, Named Mystic Light… Holder of a Flawed Soul… you have the makings of a Great Myth, and will serve as the Anchor, as your predecessors before you have. You bear a grave responsibility, but can you bring to bear a deserving character? The Test will reveal. Choice will be given, and it will be stolen.

Altair, Chosen Inheritor of the Tenebrous Chain, Bearer of the Chilling Night, you too have great accolades. Your calm will be tested, and your temperance will be questioned. You must understand that fate you bear, so you will experience its severity.

The voice went on and on, and Kieran listened though unfamiliar and curious gazes fell upon him. Daedric and the others wondered what one of the top-rated and widely known players had to offer.

It seemed like this dignified presence was of some idea.

The Myths are Recognized As One. You bear the same burden and share the same fate. Though there are differences in how much your fate will restrict you, one irrevocable point remains—you will face the Trial as one.

Rise above it. Become a Myth, become the unseen power and the unspoken weight.

Power swelled and surged within the room as the Inheritors were pulled toward the bridge. Enthralled by something tremendous and substantial, they took a step forward and then another until all seven had crossed onto the bridge.

They turned back to view the identically solemn visages of their masters, and then the portal closed.

Once it closed, the bridge split seven ways, each giving off a variation of the same feeling. Their link was palpable and easily discernible.

You walk your path forward alone but together. Your Trial has been decided, and its Test chosen. Face the Testament of Dying Blood and Emerge a Myth.

The Testament of Dying Blood was a test involving legend and myth. Unspeakable difficulty awaited the seven.