They say the stone, which in reality was a strange, black crystal of circular shape and form, with what seemed to be rushing dark oceans inside, was forged by a group of kings, alchemists and heroes long ago. Forged out of a dying star, and passed through a black hole. Ancient, and bygone alchemy casted upon it, strange technology entwined within it, the origins of which was long forgotten. Though its design and craftsmanship were complex, bordering on the point of absurdity, its purpose was simple. Almost childlike.

To test the mettle of man.

The stone would be placed in the hands of one deemed a hero, or warrior of renown. Should they hold the stone for more than a minute, they would have passed the test. The orb had judged them worthy. Should they fail, they would be burned alive. Igniting in stange and eldritch fire, which consumed both the body and soul.

Steven, now awoken after passing out for several minutes, one of the guards lighty kicking him in the head, had gotten a stange sap poured over his wound, which seemed to speed the healing process, and was now awaiting his time to hold the stone. Steven, of course, knew that he wasn't a hero. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Should this group of strange individuals (possibly demons, Steven hadn't quite ruled out the possibility he was in hell, and this was some sort of hazing initiation) discovered what his last deeds were before leaving earth, they would have thrown him before the lynx.

"The orb, my lady", said one of the guards, emerging from one of the towering corridors, a golden chest in hand.

The girl nodded her head.

"Even though we are sure you are the hero that was foretold, and the firmament gate wouldn't have opened had the blood not been deemed worthy, the test is required. It is law, as well as tradition. Sir Hugh, you may proceed."

The guard nodded his head, turning for Steven. His weighty footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked to Steven, setting the chest down next to him with a thud. Another guard came forward, two, seven inch black stone keys in his hands. He handed them over to Sir Hugh, who stuck them in the two keyholes atop the chest. He turned them, a vein on his face and grunt from his mouth revealing that the act required more strength than appeared. The box hummed a moment, then, like a puzzle piece, the top and sides began to fold and shift, after a final click the top opening, revealing the orb which was partly covered by a white blanket. The keys ejected up, Sir Hugh removing them.

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"Your turn, lad", Sir Hugh said, rising up from the ground.

Before stepping away, he looked at Steven, his eyes hard, but a kindness underneath. Subdued. He nodded his head before turning away.

Steven looked at the orb, then around the room. This was too much. What happened before...what he did, was already too much. This was bringing it beyond the pale.

Steven remembered a conversation he had with his mother, Barbra. It was during the high peak of August summer, when the sun seemed to scorch the land with a vengeance. They were behind on rent, their front left tire had just popped on their way home from the grocery store, and Steven had just revealed hours earlier that he was fired from his gig as a moving man. They sat in silence briefly, then, almost simultaneously, burst out into laughter. Barbra said she found a throughline through life. The worse it got, the funnier it seemed to be. Senseless and meaningless cruelty ascending to absurdity.

It was ironic. Steven loved animes, especially ones about average joes being transported to another world, where herodom and glory awaited. Here he was though, in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, and he'd never felt more miserable in his life.

Steven exhaled a heavy breath, deciding on picking up the orb. He knew he was no hero, and felt a strange relief that he would at least die. Hopefully, permanently this time.

Steven inched his knees towards the chest, grabbing the orb and removing the white, silky cloth which coddled it. It was cold, and hummed and pulsed with quiet power. He continued to hold it, the seconds going by and the crackling of the orb increasing. But still cold. The girl leaned forward in her throne, her eyes wide and the very oxygen seeming to be sucked out of the room as if ejected into the void of space.

Then Steven felt a terrible, horrific searing pain in his palms, and his hands ignited on fire. The fire crawled up Steven's arms as he writhed and wailed in pain.

"Enough!", the girl shouted. "Remove the rob."

A guard came forward, picking up the white cloth and carefully taking the orb, placing it back in the chest, the chest automatically beginning to close.

"The healer?", the girl yelled. "Where is he?"

An older, chubby man with a receding hairline donned in a maroon tunic shuffled into the room from one of the hallways, a brown glass bottle in hand.

"I am here, my lady. My apologies."

He came to Steven, crouching and pouring sap from the bottle onto his hands and arms.

"Your lady", the healer said, observing Steven's still scorched and bleeding arms, which filled the room with the smell of burnt flesh. "The Elder tree sap...it's not working."

"Take him to the infirmary", the girl shouted.

Two guards came forward, one hoisting up Steven's legs, and the other his maimed arms. Steven went unconscious, for the third time now today, but before he did, he thought of his last words to his sister, and his heart was filled with shame.