An overwhelming need to flee overtakes my entire will. Without thinking, I turn and bolt towards the entrance of the tomb, my sphere landing on the ground and cracking open, spilling light in all directions. The creature's fangs and deathly eyes fill my vision, terror personified, as it closes in on me with each passing second.

The heat of its breath from an open mouth washes over my back, and I catch a whiff of its damp, putrid fur. Despite my best efforts, my legs feel like they are moving through quicksand, barely propelling me forward. The entrance, which seemed so close only moments ago, now feels impossibly far away. How did I manage to get so disoriented and lost in this treacherous place?

In a moment of desperation, I release a flash of light, hoping to reveal a hidden escape route. But my hopeful gaze falls upon the unyielding ceiling, devoid of any salvation.

The narrow corridor leaves no room for dodging the beast, and the mere thought of turning around sends my heart racing and my vision blurring.

The creature emits a deep, guttural growl as it charges towards me, closing in with alarming speed.

I feel its weight land on me as its razor-sharp claws rake against my leg, sending searing pain through my body.

The thought of my flesh being ripped apart fills my mind unending fear and I begin to feel things that aren’t happening.

The creature's teeth clamp down on my neck, and I feel my leg being brutally torn from its socket.

I scream in agony as the creature savagely tears open my chest, shattering my ribs and feasting on my insides.

It's not real! It's not real!

I channel every ounce of light within me into my legs, propelling myself upwards in a blind leap towards the ceiling.

Panic sets in as I feel my body tilting towards the ground, but I manage to conjure a long pole out of thin air just in time, stabbing it towards one side of the corridor. Pouring more light into the mould of light, I stretch it out and slam it into the other side of the wall, suspending myself in the air. I quickly wrap my legs around the staff, relieved to be out of the beast's immediate reach, but the feeling of safety is short-lived.

I can't be sure that the creature won't find a way to reach me, and the uncertainty fills me with dread. I have to hope and make prayer to the Gods. A shiver runs down my spine as I feel it ripped out of my body. Every fibre of my being is under attack as the creature's claws, sharper than any blade, rip through my clothes and flay my skin.

My senses are under constant assault, drowning in a sea of fear and panic. Rational thought tells me that this must be the work of some foul magic, but it does nothing to quell the rising dread in my chest. A chilling coldness overtakes my body, and I can feel the creature closing in on me with each passing second.

I cling to the safety of the staff that holds me aloft but I just know it will leap for me and tear me down from the safety I have erected. It will kill me as I have killed others. It moves in absolute silence, hidden within the pitch-black darkness, and I cannot see it. Every time I glance around, I feel eyes staring back at me, waiting to pounce.

The light within me slowly drains away as I desperately maintain my grip on the pole, but I know that it's only a matter of time before my light runs out and I fall straight into the creature's waiting jaws.

I can’t let this happen.

I can’t.

This can’t be how it ends.

I have so much to do.

I need to be the sword of House Daai, but instead I cower. I shouldn’t be afraid of death… I am meant to be a weapon, a sword that strikes fear into the hearts of my enemies.

What sword fears?

What arrow refuses to fall?

A searing pain tears through my gut, and I gasp for breath as if a sword has been plunged into my abdomen, ripping me apart like a fish. My grip on the pole weakens, and I fall to the ground with a resounding thud, my body slamming hard against the unforgiving floor.

Blood pours from my head, covering my eyes and face, but in that moment, nothing else matters. I know my back is destroyed; I can feel it. The pain is excruciating, and I can't move, can't even attempt to get up.

I hear footsteps approaching, and a boot appears in front of my face. I can't see the face of my attacker, but I know what's coming next. I can hear the sword slicing through the air, aimed directly at my defenceless body.

This isn’t right.

It doesn’t make sense.

Where is the beast?

Questions flood my mind. The attacker stops.

I began to think about blades… and I was stabbed.

Fear had flooded my mind as I entered, and a beast I could not even dare to look at chased me. Pieces fall into place. I move my hand, somehow able to move now.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I feel the wound on my head, and find it is nothing more than a superficial one that bleeds.

Then it’s gone.

I Conjure a dagger and plant it in my attacker’s chest — but he’s already disappeared. Faceless nothingness. It is the phantom feelings that gave it away.

This is nothing more than a Conjuration, only made from fear instead of light.

I open my eyes. I am no longer on the floor. I feel behind me. The door has not moved. Fear. That’s all this was.

What lies ahead of me is a corridor full of darkness and nothing more. I had Conjured a creature in my mind that lurked in the darkness.

Foolish. What would Father have said?

I take a deep breath and steady myself. The phantom feeling of teeth around my neck still lingers, but I refuse to let fear control me. I Conjure no light, for I do not fear the dark.

Instead, I clear my mind and focus on the task at hand, as if I am back in the training yard with Father. But as I step forward into the pitch black, my thoughts start to twist and turn. Every little sound becomes a terrifying monster lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. It feels as if I am walking on a tightrope over a bottomless pit filled with unspeakable horrors. I must keep moving forward, but each step feels like a gamble with my own life.

I pause and take a moment to gather myself. I’m spiralling into fear again. The smallest things string into larger and larger versions. From walking to balancing on a pole above my certain death — yet the truth remains… there is nothing here.

Fear must be confronted.

I take a deep breath and jump to the side, expecting to fall into the abyss below. But as I land, I find solid ground beneath my feet. I crouch down and touch the floor, reassuring myself that there is no pit, no danger lurking in the darkness.

Full of renewed resolve, my legs move on their own, taking me towards my goal. If focusing failed, then I will simply not focus. That will be the onl-

My heart pounds in my chest as a blade whizzes past me, slicing the bridge of my nose. I stumble backwards, hastily conjuring my own blade and assuming a defensive stance.

From the shadows steps a towering figure, shrouded in darkness until his face is illuminated by a flicker of light.

It's my father, his eyes blazing with an intensity I've never seen before.

In an instant, I find myself on the ground with his sword pressed against my throat.

Panic grips me as I struggle to make sense of what's happening.

He’s going to kill me?

Why does he want to kill me?

I feel my Father's presence looming over me, his voice heavy with expectation. "If you cannot maintain your focus, Kyallan, you will only focus on failure. And that is unacceptable. To become a king among kings, to claim the title of Humanity's Champion, you must never lose your focus," He declares firmly, and I nod.

He looms closer, his head larger than it should be, his face taking up my entire vision. He steps closer, his face looming large in my vision. "With the Sorcerer-King's demise, the Sixteenth Cycle has come to an end. The Gods will soon choose their new champions, as they have done for centuries. The most ambitious among us will receive a fragment of their divinity. Agrodeus, Maaivan, Eudaimon - they have all risen to the challenge. Will you be the next, Kyallan? Or will this paltry imitation of magic defeat you?"

I look around me, still keenly aware of the blade at my throat. “What am I to do, Father? Every step I take is harder than the last! I can’t do it!”

He smiles, and the smile stretches impossibly wide, his teeth growing into grotesque fangs. His voice echoes and twists, sounding like a chorus of abhorrent creatures. "You are a weapon, Kyallan. You were crafted for a purpose, honed for a singular goal. You cannot afford to doubt yourself, for doubt is a weakness that will be exploited by your enemies. You must wield yourself, or others will wield you."

A gust of wind blows me backwards, and I catch myself in the air, pulling my core up and landing on my feet, stumbling backwards until I catch myself fully.

He’s right.

The axe does not fear the tree, does it?

The hammer does not fear the battle.

Just as a blade must have no fear of cutting.

It’s not about fear… it’s about victory.

This is a battle, a war, a duel — whatever it wishes to be called.

A fight in the mind is just the same as a fight with blades.

A war of wills.

My mind races, and it shapes the very room around me. A shadowy figure looms over me, a manifestation of all my deepest fears. I quickly Conjure a spear, bracing myself as it takes a step forward, its malevolent presence bristling with pure malice.

I watch as a blade of pure shadow slices down towards me, and with a swift movement, I push off the wall closest to me to dodge. I feel the long, wet tendrils of hair follow, each one slicing into the ground. I focus my mind, channelling my light into my legs and feeling the surge of power that comes with it. But this time, I am not running away.

Instead, I stand my ground, facing the shadowy figure that looms before me. With a flick of my wrist, I transform the spear into a more suitable weapon, elongating the blade until it resembles a sword atop a stick rather than a traditional spear. Light brims from it in waves of mesmerising brightness, and I lunge forward, plunging it deep into the neck of the shadow, feeling blood that is darker than dark pour from the wound as it penetrates through the other side.

It recoils, pulling me forward, and I react quickly, Conjuring a spike that attaches to my hand via a glove, and driving it deep into the shadow's shoulder. Another spike forms on my boot, which I quickly use to stab into its lower chest, hoisting myself up. The shadow scrapes at me, but it feels like nothing more than an ant's touch.

I use my momentum to flip over the shadow's head, planting my knees into it’s back and grabbing my Swordspear from the other side, beginning to twist with all my might as the thing screams out in pain. It bucks and thrashes like a wild animal as I begin twist its fucking head off, and throws itself against the wall to crush me.

I pour as much light into my legs as I can, taking the full weight of the creature, and shoving it back off the wall and over to the other side, breaking open its skull on the stone. With a final burst of strength, I wrench the shadow's head from its shoulders with a sickening crack, sending a spray of dark blood pouring out over the corridor like the thickest of thick storms.

The creature screeches out a horrific wail of pain before shrinking and shrinking until there is nothing left at all, not even a trace of blood. Silence fills the corridor, interrupted only by the sound of my heavy breathing and the faint echo of my victory. With a deep exhale, I let my Swordspear dissipate into the air as I take a moment to gather myself.

Only a second passes before I open my eyes, and I am outside the Tomb. I know this to be the last time I will fear that strange fear. The hallway exists no longer — in fact, I had yet to even open the door. Lines on the door glow in the written language, and I look upon them, my eyes no longer blurred and my heart no longer afraid.

The Trial of Fear is defeated. Enter the tomb, Lightblade, and find the truth hidden inside.

The door opens the second my eyes finish the sentence, with a resounding creak that echoes through the chamber. Despite its age and disuse, the sound doesn't hurt my ears as it did before. Ahead lies a simple stone corridor, but it elicits no fear from me.

I am a warrior, the Sword of House Daai, and I will destroy anything that lies ahead of me, be it man or beast from the dark.

That is my purpose, my duty, and I will fulfil it with every fibre of my being.

Damned be anything else.