Hunter stumbled through the portal, his senses scrambled and stomach churning. He steadied himself against the wall, recoiling when he realized it was animal bone beneath his fingers.
The chamber he found himself in was lit by macabre, bone-shaped spirit lamps, casting eerie, dancing shadows around him. With each breath, he choked on the scent of decay mingled with the earthy aroma of old parchment.
The ground beneath him was uneven, covered in tiny bones that crunched softly under his weight. No exits were in sight. Animal skulls adorned the walls and archways, leading nowhere.
In the flickering light, the challenge scroll floated before the back wall, lighting the array of skulls and bones in a haunting red glow. Beneath it, shelves crafted from polished bones held rows of leather-bound books.
Approaching the scroll, Hunter felt a faint breeze stir the pages, rustling like ghostly whispers.
Athena's icon stared back at him, her gruesome glory captured in a golden heart shield bearing the likeness of the Gorgon Stheno. Hunter recalled the legends—a woman with hissing, red snakes for hair, tusks jutting from her mouth, and wings of gold.
A face that strikes fear into the heart of man, Hunter mused, his father's words echoing in his mind as he shared the origins of the monstrous Gorgon on their family shield.
Hunter hesitated, his finger hovering over the icon, half-expecting the mythic figure to leap off the shield and bite it off.
Gulping back fear, he made contact.
The moment his touch met the icon, it faded, replaced by familiar words:
Trial of Heart - Leocedes “Hunter” Filo. Title Earned: Phantom Pilferer of Death Isle.
The challenge details followed:
Clever Cultivator, in this whimsically twisted challenge, Ghosts of the past haunt the present. Select a book from your family library to summon a memory. Remember, sharing a problem might halve it, or perhaps you'll end up with twice the trouble! It's your cerebral circus, have a thrilling time deciding, dear challenger.
Hunter’s attention dropped from the challenge scroll to the shelves filled with books. What did the scroll mean by ‘family library,’ and did each book contain his memories?
There was only one way to find out.
He let his finger drift across the spines that varied in thickness. Some were as thick as a brick, others wafer thin, Hunter chose one of the thinner spines to begin.
It slid out with ease.
The cover was leather-bound and embossed with what looked like an animal skull, possibly a small rodent like a rat. Nothing else adorned the cover binding the yellow, age-worn pages, leaving the mystery of their contents intact.
Hunter thumbed open the book and was immediately transported to an open grave where he watched a small rat scurry about, its dark fur silvered under the moonlight. Curiosity gnawed at him as he observed the rat, drawn to it.
The mood shifted as the rat found some discarded fish jerky—Hunter recognized it as his own. Connecting the dots, he realized this was the memory of one of his rats on Death Island.
Was it the past, present, or future?
Hunter couldn’t tell. His surroundings dissolved, and he found himself holding the book.
Eager to discover who's memories the books contained—was it everyone he ever met in his life?—he snapped it closed.
Next, he chose a slightly thicker book, its cover adorned with an animal skull larger than a rat’s. He opened it and was transported to a familiar place, somewhere he hadn’t been in years.
Mistress Arista’s schoolyard.
Suddenly, his heart hammered in his chest as he saw Popsy running frantically inside an unlocked cage, aware of the fox prowling along the cliff path. The memory of that day, of seeing Mopsy dead, Pheres pushing him off the cliff and later, his mother looking at him for the last time, overwhelmed him. He tried to cling to the memory, but he was falling, like the sensation on the edge of sleep. He snapped back to the bone library, the book now closed in his hand, sealed shut.
Taking a calming breath, Hunter gathered his thoughts. If he let the creature or person’s memories and emotions overwhelm him, if he couldn’t gain control, he’d be forced out of the memory and banned from entering it again.
Hunter took out a much thicker book, this time embossed with a human skull on the cover. He placed it down on a small table that appeared to his right and then selected several more, lining them up together.
Each one had a human skull on the front, each representing someone he had met in his life. He had the feeling he would not be successful until he picked one of significance and gained enlightenment from the contained memories and emotions.
Someone in his life that faced a problem?
His thoughts turned to his sister, and he wished he could tell which book carried her memories—he’d give anything to see her smiling face again, but the last time he saw her, fear had filled her big brown eyes.
Looking at the skulls, Hunter felt a heaviness settle over him.
Underneath it all, we are the same—a truth that stared back at him from every skull on the books laying on the table.
He closed his eyes and let his hand trail over the books until he felt drawn to one. Opening his eyes, he picked it up. He found himself in a room, the drab surroundings fading away as he focused solely on his sister. She looked about sixteen years old, so it had to be a recent memory.
Then it hit him—an overwhelming sense of sadness mixed with anger and frustration. Looming over her was the source.
Eratos.
Jocasta glared at him and tried to yank her wrist free from his grip. “Get your meat hooks off me.”
Eratos laughed. “Is that any way to talk to your uncle? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be living on the streets at the mercy of the gangs and the shunned.”
Hunter yelled at Eratos and rushed his uncle, attempting to wrestle his hand off his sister, but he fell right through him as if he were a ghost. He spun around.
“Leave her alone!” he screamed, loud enough to make his throat raw.
Eratos couldn’t hear him. His uncle only had eyes for Jo—eyes that were lit by the thrill of her suffering at his hands.
Hunter’s fists clenched, chest tightening with his own grief and anger, amplifying the power of his sister’s emotions that he was experiencing through her book of memories.
Overwhelmed, he could feel himself slipping out of the memory like before.
Jocasta’s voice anchored him. “Shut your lying mouth. You are not the savior you claim to be. Nothing but the architect of my entire family’s misfortune. Hunter will come for me when he finds out what you’re doing.”
Eratos sneered. “Let him, the ungrateful whelp! For years he’s toiled on Death Island and never once came looking for you. He’s weak and the island is sure to have broken his spirit by now. If by some miracle he turns up here, there is nothing he can do. I am your guardian! I have made arrangements for your future that serve you and your family’s legacies' best interests. Perhaps Xuthos will take a fancy to you and claim you as one of his wives, or his son might take you as his plaything.”
Jocasta spat at his feet. “I’d rather die than let that idiot touch me!”
“You’re right, Jo. Pheres is an idiot. It comes from his upbringing. His parents are idiots too. But they are rich idiots. ‘Old money’, you know the type, and they are well connected in this city. They like coin and will do anything I ask once the price is right. For now, I have sworn Xuthos to keep his hands to himself and allow you to use that clever mind of yours to cook his books for him. Don’t do anything that will make me regret that decision.”
He let go of her hand.
“What if I don’t agree to spy on him for you and gather information on his dealings at the port?” She said rubbing her wrist, her eyes locked on him in challenge.
“Well then, your brother may just have a nasty little accident in the cemetery. And if your brother pays you a little visit and suggests a daring escape, think very strongly about what you decide. I have loyal followers everywhere in this province; you will do well to remember that.”
Hunter’s mind felt like it was fracturing as images of his uncle sitting on the stage watching the trials bled into his vision. Time slowed and the version of his uncle here inside his sister’s memory and the one on the stage in the arena melted into one grotesque form.
He fell to his knees as his uncle turned away from his sister.
“Don’t you dare turn your back on her, you spineless bastard!” Hunter screamed. He raced to block his uncle's exit from the room, but he could no longer move. His sister stood there, eyes misting, but she refused to cry in her uncle’s presence. Her shoulders sagged as the door slammed closed. She was alone and Hunter never felt so powerless to help her.
Outside the laughter of Eratos and Xuthos could be heard.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Hunter’s skin flushed hot as he was consumed by his own rage. The tether that bound him to his sister’s emotions snapped.
It sent him hurtling out of his sister’s memory, and he was left staring at her book of memories, her gut-wrenching sobs of loneliness still echoing in his ears.
Something else clung to him like an ill-fitting cloak.
It was the lingering remnants of regret, but it didn’t belong to his sister; it belonged to his uncle. Shaking off the wretched feeling, he wondered what his uncle regretted. Sending him to Death Island instead of killing him? Or something else instead?
Challenge failed.
A force slammed into him, yanking him out of the chamber through the portal, back into the arena. He barely rose to his feet, finding other challengers writhing in pain on the ground. Poor Zaccirius was on his hands and knees, choking on bitter tears.
There was no sign of Pheres.
Slowly, his uncle rose from his seat on the stage and greeted Vassilus, who was about to approach Hunter. The men exchanged words, both stealing glances at Hunter. Vassilus smiled and nodded before turning to watch the arrival of more challengers after their final challenge.
Hunter ignored the trials playing out on the banners, focusing on his uncle’s casual approach. He took a cautious step back from his uncle, eager to keep some distance between them.
“You let yourself down in the end,” Eratos said, his voice low and dangerous. “I have to say, I was worried when you made it past the first two trials and had the crowd rooting for you.” His uncle looked Hunter up and down, smiling the whole time. “The Trial of Heart is never the most exciting challenge to watch. But then you ruined it for yourself when you ended up in a stuffy old bone library, staring at books.”
Hunter inched back, choosing his words carefully. “Sorry to bore you, Uncle. I was a little busy reliving memories of when you betrayed my mother and father.” When his uncle didn’t call him out on the lie, Hunter knew he hadn’t seen what had happened when he was absorbed in his sister’s memory.
“Thank the gods I was spared viewing such trite nonsense.”
Hunter’s hand went to the cultivation medallion around his neck.
His uncle was staring at it.
“Hand that over, boy.”
“Hand over what?” Hunter asked, backing further away.
“Don’t play the fool; we both know you are smarter than that. Smart enough to not tell anyone how you really came across that medallion.”
A familiar, charismatic voice slipped into his mind. I strongly advise against allowing that medallion to fall into his hands.
Hunter forced a tense smile, fidgeting with the chain of the medallion as if seriously considering the merit of his uncle's threat.
I’ve no intention of letting my uncle get his thieving hands on my medallion. Hunter’s thoughts were filled with conviction, but he had no idea how he was going to keep his word. Making a mad dash to the arena exit was a bad idea. He couldn’t outrun his uncle. But if he bided his time, he could outsmart him.
A portal door blinked into existence not far from Hunter, and out strolled Pheres, a triumphant grin etched on his face.
Hunter cursed the divine heavens.
I’m afraid the heavens have nothing to do with that...
Hunter ignored the god.
He’d noticed Pheres pocket something that looked suspiciously like ill-gotten gains.
"He's a damn cheat!" a challenger yelled.
It made sense; how else would someone with the emotional range of a rock pass the Trial of Heart? It galled Hunter that the gap between the haves and have-nots in this city was growing wider by the day.
Several more portals blinked into view, and some challengers stumbled out, pale as ghosts, except for one.
Hunter's breath stalled as she emerged, looking like a warrior goddess. Raven hair escaped her bun in tendrils, and her skin glowed as if kissed by the sun.
Charis.
Her name was on the lips of every spectator as she raised her arms in victory. Adjusting the waist straps on her form-fitting leather armor, she strolled forward and presented herself to Vassilus, preening from the stage like a cat with a belly full of cream.
A firm grip on Hunter's shoulder dragged his attention back to his uncle. "She is too good for the likes of you, boy."
Priest Helios appeared by Vassilus's side and raised his staff. The crowd fell into awestruck silence as it glowed white.
Raising both hands, Vassilus's demeanor turned solemn as he addressed the crowd and challengers. "The Trial of Worth is now complete for all challengers. Congratulations to those who passed, and commiserations to those who did not." He spoke in clipped tones, his eyes darting between Pheres and Charis. "Please give your full attention to Priest Helios as he announces the top-ranked challenger who will win an entry token to the most auspicious Academy in the Empire, Stallion Martial Academy."
He bowed and took a step back.
Eratos' grip on Hunter's shoulder tightened. "Stay right here, boy. I will be watching you from the stage. When this is over, you will go back and serve the remainder of your forty years on Death Island. I want that medallion."
Hunter winced against the pain but refused to yield. "If you want the medallion, try to take it." He gritted his teeth and forced all the challenge he could into his voice.
Behind them on the stage, Priest Helios lowered his staff, and it echoed like thunder as the base thumped to the ground. "Please, everyone, give me your full attention before I announce our top-ranked challenger and bestow all successful participants with their award scrolls."
Eratos stiffened, then relaxed his grip, releasing Hunter. "No point in causing a scene. We will continue this conversation later. Besides, there is nowhere you can go that I can't find you. And no decent academy would enroll a weak loser like you. Enjoy playing the low-level cultivator with that cultivation medallion while you still can." He turned on his heel and marched toward the stage, quickly taking his seat and giving a nod to Helios to begin.
The priest looked unimpressed with his uncle's casual display, but turned his attention back to the challengers. "Pheres and Charis, please step forward."
With proud grins on their faces, they both did as the priest asked. Chants erupted for Charis; it was clear she was the crowd favorite.
"The winner," said Helios, eyes circling the crowd, "with three successful challenges complete, and with additional bonus points of sixty-nine, Son of Xuthos, Pheres Andeno."
“Nice.” Pheres’ grin widened. “Both ways are bonuses.”
The confident look on Charis' face vanished. Her brows rose and then fell as she pressed her lips together.
"You look beautiful when you're angry," Pheres taunted her in a low voice.
She ignored him, but Hunter could tell she wanted to punch him in the face as much as he did. It wasn't enough for Pheres to win; the bastard had to gloat about it, too.
Helios hushed the crowds' mixture of cheers and boos.
Suddenly, the ground trembled, and cracks appeared, screams of ‘earthquake’ erupted. Hunter jumped clear of a crack that opened at his feet while everyone else scrambled out of their seats.
The tremors lasted for what seemed like an age before subsiding.
Then, yells from the upper stalls echoed clear across the arena. They were all saying the same thing.
"Look! A tower has appeared."
Hunter followed the direction they were pointing in, but all he could see was the top of the tower, a good distance from where they were. If he had to judge, it looked about a five-minute jog outside the city proper, beyond the boundary walls.
"Please take a seat; we have a ceremony to complete." Helios and Vassilus did their best to calm the crowds, but the words fell on deaf ears.
"It's the end of times," an old man yelled.
"Don't be daft; it's the second coming of the legendary training tower of Hadad," a thick-set man yelled back.
Hunter knew of the legendary training towers raised by mystical forces. Those who were worthy to enter became powerful warriors, rose to immortality, and defied the heavens.
Crowds ignored Vasillus’ protests. They streamed out of the stalls and left the arena in droves. Hunter took one look at the indignant Pheres, who didn't like that people were not bowing at his feet over his win.
Hunter joined the crowds of challengers and spectators as they merged and exited the arena. Many fled away, fearing the tower, but Hunter followed those heading out past the boundary wall to where the tower loomed in the dying light of the evening sun.
Hunter's heart raced.
It looked exactly like it did in his dreams.
Thirteen stories high, adorned with ornate carvings and topped with a grand pavilion with bright stucco tiles fanning out from the roof.
Giant cracks snaked down one side, and the facade was crumbling. It looked far from the pristine tower everyone expected to find.
"It's cursed," someone yelled before running away screaming.
That created panic, and the numbers dwindled.
Eratos appeared at Hunter’s side. He laid a heavy hand on his nephew’s shoulder. Priest Helios drifted past and circled around the tower, looking for an entrance. There wasn't any, at least not one that was visible to Hunter's eyes.
"Go home, boy," his uncle said, while his eyes roamed up the great height of the tower.
“I am not going anywhere.”
"Suit yourself," his uncle replied with a dismissive sigh. "I need to talk with Priest Helios; it is my job to keep this city safe. You are weak, but you are smart—smart enough to know better than to tell anyone, and I mean anyone, how you really came into possession of your family medallion. Your sister is working for Xuthos now. If you displease me in any way..." He picked up a flower from the soil-trodden ground. "...I will find out, and I will make sure your sister has a most unpleasant time with her new master." He crushed the flower in his hands, let it fall, and stomped it under his boot.
Hunter glared at his uncle.
"Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal," Hunter said through gritted teeth.
His uncle went to join Helios, who was standing back, shaking his head in dismay. They talked for a moment before Eratos ordered the remaining spectators to leave.
Hunter felt trapped; the tower was right in front of him, but he couldn't reach it.
His uncle sneered threateningly as he walked past with Helios.
"Join me in my war chamber as soon as you know," Eratos said to the priest. "I want to know everything about this tower's origins, and I mean everything."
"That will take time, General Eratos, but I will join you at dawn with all the information I have gathered from our temple archives."
Helios looked at Hunter. "Commiserations today, my dear boy. For your safety, please return home."
Hunter bowed but didn't reply.
His uncle laughed and brushed past. "Leave him; what harm can he do?"
Howls rose from the far-off hills.
Glancing over his shoulder, his uncle had a final word. “Get home before nightfall, boy, or the wolves will make a meal of you.”
They walked away, and Hunter was all alone.
He stepped toward the tower and placed a hand on it. Its rough surface felt warm to the touch and it hummed with energy.
Suddenly, the charismatic voice boomed in his head.
Welcome Hunter!
A light blinded him, stars exploded in his vision and he stumbled back.
As the blinding glow faded, a form emerged from the light, dressed in fine silk robes the color of spilled blood. His hair flowed down his back like a midnight waterfall. In his hand, he held a flagstaff that captured the essence of a thousand battles. "So glad you finally decided to join me," he purred, his voice carrying the weight of ages.
Hunter stood frozen, feeling the magnitude of the god's presence pressing down on him. Sweat dripped from his brow, his body reacting to the divine force before him.
"You really are a g—"
“A god, yes,” he said, with a flourish of his robe. “But you can call me Claude.”
Hunter felt the pressure around him ease slightly, although the air still crackled with divinity.
"Sorry about that," Claude said, his tone almost apologetic. "It's been millennia since I've been in the presence of a mortal."
Hunter swallowed hard, his throat dry. "You said you had a question you wanted to ask me if I survived the trial."
"I do!" Claude's eyes sparkled with mischief. "But before I ask you that…do you want to know what's inside the tower?"
Hunter looked at the tower and then back to Claude.
Curiosity welled up inside him, and he grinned. “Do you even need to ask?”