[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This-Chapter 77: In Which We Give Up What We Can’t Get Back

The amber doorway burned brighter as we approached it.

This time there was no hesitation, no discussion, we’d already decided to face all three trials and backing out now would mean everything we’d already endured was for nothing.

Azryth’s hand was steadier in mine now, the disorientation from the first trial fading as he grounded himself in the present.

We stepped through together.

The light on the other side was different from the Trial of Origin, warmer but somehow more painful, like standing too close to a fire that wanted to consume instead of comfort.

When my vision cleared, we were standing in a space that looked like nothing and everything at once, shifting between crystalline structures and empty void, between solid ground and floating in nothing.

The arbiter materialized before us, but its form was different now, more defined and more present, like it was paying closer attention.

"The Trial of Sacrifice," its layered voices said. "To prove your bond matters more than what you hold most dear, you must give what cannot be regained."

"Give what to who?" I asked warily.

"To each other, to the bond, to the future you claim to want." The arbiter’s form pulsed. "Sacrifice is not about loss, it is about choice, choosing what matters over what you possess, choosing connection over power, choosing love over safety."

Two pedestals rose from the nothing-ground, one in front of me and one in front of Azryth, each one glowing with energy that made my teeth ache.

"Place upon these pedestals what you value most," the arbiter commanded. "Not objects, not possessions, but essence, the core of what makes you powerful, what defines your potential, what you have built your identity upon."

I felt a cold understanding settle over me. "You want us to give up our power?"

"Not your power, your potential." The arbiter drifted closer. "The foundation upon which future power could be built, the inheritance that defines what you might become, the birthright that determines your place in the hierarchy of beings."

Azryth’s jaw tightened. "You’re asking for permanent sacrifice, something that can never be recovered or replaced."

"Yes, the trial demands irreplaceable loss freely given." The arbiter’s voices harmonized. "Only then can we measure whether your bond truly matters more than your individual potential."

"Can we refuse?" I asked.

"You can, but the trial fails, you remain in limbo, the same consequence as any failure." The arbiter’s form rippled. "But know this, what you sacrifice here, you sacrifice forever, there is no undoing what is given, no reclaiming what is offered, you will be permanently diminished in ways that matter."

I looked at Azryth, feeling his dread bleeding through the binding.

"What would I be sacrificing?" I asked. "Specifically."

The arbiter gestured to my pedestal and suddenly I could see it, feel it, understand exactly what it wanted.

"Part of your inheritance seal," the arbiter said. "The protection your mother built into your bloodline, the shield that has kept you safe from forces that would otherwise destroy you, sacrifice a fragment and you become vulnerable, exposed, easier to harm and harder to defend."

My wrist burned where the seal pulsed. "How much of it?"

"Enough to matter, enough to weaken your natural defenses significantly, enough that threats you could previously withstand will now be able to touch you." The arbiter’s attention turned to Azryth. "And you must sacrifice a fragment of your throne-right, the claim to infernal power that defines your position in the hierarchy, your potential to rule, your birthright as demon lord."

Azryth went very still. "If I give that up..."

"You can never reclaim your full infernal power, even if Veyrith is defeated and the throne becomes available, you will be permanently diminished, unable to hold the position you were born to occupy, unable to command the authority that is your birthright." The arbiter’s form pulsed. "You will remain powerful, but never again as powerful as you should be, always less than what you were meant to become."

"That’s..." Azryth’s voice was tight. "That’s everything I’ve been fighting for, five hundred years in that amulet, dreaming of the day I could reclaim what Veyrith stole, and you want me to give it up?" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Not give it up, sacrifice it." The arbiter drifted between us. "Choose your bond over your birthright, choose connection over power, choose love over everything you have suffered to preserve."

I felt sick. "And we both have to do this? Both of us have to sacrifice something irreplaceable?"

"Yes, sacrifice given by only one partner proves nothing except imbalance, both must choose freely, both must give what cannot be regained, only then does the trial measure true commitment."

Azryth was staring at his pedestal like it was an executioner’s block. Through the binding, I felt everything he wasn’t saying... five hundred years of isolation endured specifically to survive until he could reclaim his throne, centuries of planning and hoping and clinging to the belief that someday he’d take back what was his, and now being asked to abandon that forever.

"What happens after we sacrifice?" I asked. "Do we get weaker immediately?"

"The changes take effect once you leave this realm," the arbiter explained. "But they are permanent, irreversible, absolute, what you give here, you give forever."

I looked at my own pedestal, at the choice being offered.

My inheritance seal, the protection my mother had died to give me, the shield that had kept the Covenant from killing me a dozen times over, and the arbiter wanted me to weaken it, to make myself more vulnerable, to reduce the one advantage I had against forces that wanted me dead or enslaved.

"This is bad," I said quietly.

"This is necessary." The arbiter’s voices carried no sympathy. "Love without sacrifice is merely convenience, bond without cost is merely circumstance, to prove your connection is genuine, you must demonstrate willingness to lose what matters most."

"And if we do this," Azryth said slowly, "if we both sacrifice as demanded, does that guarantee we pass the trial?"

"Nothing is guaranteed, the trial measures sincerity, intent, genuine willingness to prioritize bond over self." The arbiter’s form rippled. "But yes, if both sacrifices are given freely, without resentment, without hesitation born from obligation rather than choice, then the trial is passed."

Silence fell in the impossible space.

I looked at Azryth, at the demon lord who’d survived five hundred years of isolation dreaming of reclaiming his throne, and I felt through the binding how much this was costing him, how deeply the choice was cutting.

And he was looking at me, seeing the same conflict I was feeling, understanding that giving up part of my seal meant becoming more vulnerable to the Covenant, to Veyrith, to every threat we’d be facing.

"If I do this," Azryth said finally, his voice rough, "I can never reclaim my full power anymore, I’ll always be less than I should be."

"And if I do this," I added, "I’ll be more vulnerable, easier to hurt, the protection my mother died to give me will be weaker."

"Yes." The arbiter showed no emotion. "These are the costs, these are the sacrifices, choose or refuse, but choose quickly, the trial does not wait indefinitely."

I felt Azryth’s hand tighten on mine where we still held each other.

"What do you want to do?" he asked quietly.

"I don’t know." I looked at my pedestal. "Giving up protection feels like spitting on everything my mother sacrificed to keep me safe, but refusing means we fail the trial and get trapped here forever."

"And giving up my throne-right feels like admitting Veyrith won," Azryth said. "Five hundred years suffering in darkness, all for nothing, because I chose to abandon what I was fighting to reclaim."

"Maybe that’s the point." I looked at him. "Maybe the trial is asking if we’d choose each other over everything else, over safety and power and birthright and revenge, over everything we thought we wanted."

"And would you?" His eyes met mine. "Would you give up your mother’s protection for me?"

I thought about it, really thought about it.

The seal had kept me alive, not only me, us, had shielded us from threats we couldn’t handle alone, had been my mother’s final gift and greatest sacrifice.

But it hadn’t kept me from being lonely, hadn’t protected me from fifteen years of isolation and suppression, hadn’t saved me from becoming someone who didn’t know how to connect with anyone.

Azryth had done that, the binding had done that, choosing to trust him despite every reason not to had done that.

"Yeah," I said. "I would, because the seal kept me alive but you made me want to be alive, there’s a difference."

Something shifted in his expression. "Riven..."

"What about you?" I asked. "Would you give up your throne-right for me?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and through the binding I felt him wrestling with centuries of conviction.

"I spent five hundred years in darkness holding onto one belief," he said finally. "That someday I’d reclaim what was stolen, that all the suffering had purpose, that I’d emerge and take back my throne and prove Veyrith didn’t break me." He paused. "But the throne didn’t pull me out of that darkness, you did, and power didn’t teach me to trust again, you did, and birthright didn’t make me want to survive, loving you did."

"So that’s a yes?"

"That’s a yes." His hand came up to cup my face. "I choose you over the throne, over power, over everything I thought I wanted, because what I actually want is you, and if keeping you means giving up my birthright, then I give it up freely."

The binding flared between us, bright and certain.

"Then we do this," I said. "Both of us, we sacrifice what we can’t get back and we do it for each other."

"Together."

"Always together."

We turned to face our pedestals, still holding hands with our free hands but stepping closer to the platforms that would take what we couldn’t replace.

"How do we..." I started.

"Place your hand on the pedestal," the arbiter instructed. "Will your sacrifice into being, choose freely to give what cannot be regained, offer it to the bond, to each other, to the future you claim to want."

I reached out with my left hand, the one marked with the inheritance seal, and placed my palm flat on the glowing pedestal.

Immediately I felt it, the seal responding, pulling at something deep inside me, asking if I was sure, if I understood what I was giving up, if I truly chose this freely.

"I choose this," I said out loud. "I sacrifice part of my inheritance seal, I give up protection I can’t replace, I do it freely and without resentment, I do it for him, for us, for what we’re building together."

The seal burned on my wrist, bright and painful, and I felt something fundamental shift as a piece of it tore away and flowed into the pedestal.

My mother’s protection, weakening, reducing, becoming less than what she’d died to give me.

"I’m sorry, Mom," I whispered. "But I’m choosing him, I’m choosing this, I hope you understand."

Beside me, Azryth placed his hand on his own pedestal.

"I sacrifice my throne-right," he said, his voice steady despite everything. "I give up my claim to full infernal power, I abandon the birthright I suffered five hundred years to preserve, I do it freely, I do it for him, I do it because he matters more than any throne ever could."

His power flared, amber fire burning bright around him, and then I felt something break, not violently but absolutely, like a chain snapping after holding too long.

His birthright, his potential, his claim to everything he’d been fighting for, all of it flowing into the pedestal and disappearing forever.

We stood there, hands on our pedestals, both of us giving up what we could never get back.

The arbiter’s form blazed bright.

"Sacrifice accepted," its layered voices said. "Both offerings given freely, both costs understood, both choices made without coercion or resentment, the trial is passed."

The pedestals dissolved beneath our hands and we nearly fell, catching each other, still joined by our other hands.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Different," Azryth said. "Lighter, maybe, or emptier, I can feel the absence of what I gave up, the potential that’s no longer there."

"Yeah," I agreed. "The seal is weaker, I can feel it, like armor that’s been thinned, still there but not as strong."

"Do you regret it?"

I looked at him, at the demon lord who’d given up his throne for me, and felt the binding pulse warm and certain between us.

"No," I said. "Do you?"

"No." He pulled me closer. "Not for a second."

The arbiter drifted closer. "Two trials complete, one remains, the Trial of Choice awaits, the hardest test, the final proof, are you prepared?"

We were both exhausted, both permanently diminished by what we’d just sacrificed, both struggling to process the weight of what we’d given up.

But we looked at each other and found strength neither of us had alone.

"Yeah," I said. "We’re ready."

"Then face the final door," the arbiter commanded.

The merged doorway, golden and amber light braided together, opened before us.

"Choose your path," the arbiter said. "Reject what fate demands, forge what should not exist, prove your love transcends even prophecy itself."

We stepped forward, hands still joined, permanently changed but still together.

Into the final trial.

Into the choice that would determine everything.