The expanse of grass lost its allure, finding his Miasma returning to full state. Balancing with Tae in the path that he wished to carve.
Though it seemed this space had felt his energy return, or it could all be a very unlikely coincidence.
Just at the edge of the horizon there was a chasm; stretching as far as he saw off in the distance of the other horizons. But it was broken, a giant mist wall cut the chasm in half with no sight of the other side.
The only hint there was another edge was a single lone bridge. Its road way made for a single person to casually walk across the planks bound by thick rope. Mirror by set of ropes made as hand railings that didn’t connect to the bridge, but large wooden posts that hosted them in parallel.
If the looming doom was all there was, Gregor would have faced it like before. But someone waited by the entrance, casually leaning against one of the large posts.
The headless man turned to give a gentle wave.
“Welcome, I see you made it through the glittering forest.” The being said with a strange joy. Coming closer with a casual walk. “Those butterflies can be a deadly threat if one is not prepared.”
Gregor raised his sword, recalling what was said before. This was just some other illusion.
Thame awaited to be called to his sword.
The headless man stopped a couple paces out of reach. “My, danger could be lurking anywhere, but there is no need for this display.”
He didn’t wait— Miasma answered, flowing his blade. He dashed his sword in proper form. His back and arms went in one motion with Thame. He could not have been more perfect. But as the blade neared the body the man became fuzzy, then— nothing.
His sword met only air. Nearly tripping over himself with the weight imbalance.
“Aggression is all well and good, when there is a danger to be had.” Gregor’s head whipped to the side where the headless man stood unscathed. “Your next challenge shall begin once you cross over into the mist, but I would hurry. There are only five more days left before the collapse.”
“Five—?!” Gregor caught himself too late. He shut his mouth.
He felt the world grow silent, the man mimicked a soul wrenching stare. How?— Gregor didn’t know, only he felt a shiver trail his spine before the hums took their place. The headless man walked back and forth at a distance.
The man paused, “Well then. Carry on, I’ll make no move to inhibit your pass. Just be mindful of the challenge ahead.”
There was a clap and a faded to mist.
Gregor carefully minded himself, looking frantically for any sign of ambush, or whisper. Nothing came to him.
This… wasn’t good. Far from it, but what could he do? Recalling the “fight” that took place— really, he couldn’t see anything. And that, if it wasn’t, was basically teleportation!
A mild headache was coming on.
Gregor trudged to the edges of the cliff, peered over to the side a bit, finding the darkness much the same as was the sky without the moon.
There really wasn’t any comfort to be brought, but if this was anything like the first bridge nothing would happen until he crossed it… or had been…
His grip tightened over his pack, taking a few steps over suspended faith.
“Suspended reflections, catered to muffled illusions of the true bearings of the world. What the world does naturally, creates accordingly, is less simply because there cannot be a true reflection of nature. They are less, but not bound to the forms they mimic, twisted in creation and forces. Beware in trusting familiar ground.”
Gregor gazed just before the mist, letting the last of the message pass his mind. Finally getting some pattern to these whole challenges.
Rustling around his bag, he pulled out the pages he detailed about Thame.
Mimics… Copycats of the natural world. Spanning their reach to the mundane— chairs that could suddenly gain spikes, dolls coming to life in form, and whispers of buildings walking the land.
All said to be possible, and mundane until the illusion was broken to their twisted nature.
A ran along his spine. He looked over his shoulder on instinct but there was nothing. Just jitters.
Maybe… he was becoming too paranoid in this place. Pacing was important, if he wore his mind out too quickly… There might be some unsettling sights.
He grimaced.
Sometimes he wished he wasn’t born upon the path for Miasma, but stars weren’t so kind. Of the three common alignments of Thame, Miasma was the least well known. So much that even his notes warned of Mimics and their existence, bare of details than what was already said.
He had to keep spells ready. Maybe even the Rirrom Spell would come in handy this time.
But, if all things tracked, then the chest could only be the challenge for Nightmares.
He wasn’t sure how to deal with those yet… best to save it when he finished this crossing.
Gregor put his papers away, taking a breath free of mist and readied his sword. Stepping into the haze beyond.
----------------------------------------
Light flashed. Returning nothing, there wasn’t an illusion or shifts in Thame in this place, only mist. A waste of Miasma.
Gregor huffed. Why couldn’t this be simple?
He carefully took his time along the creaking boards. The mist was so thick, he could barely see a few meters in front of himself.
But the bridge wasn't as he thought, catching sight of a pair of posts and a clean edge of fine marble.
A circular disk stood as a platform; wide enough to fit a hundred of himself packed together.
Gregor wandered to the center, his blade ready, but it all was the same. Casually he glanced at the pairs of wooden posts lining the other end of the platform.
Four new bridges— with no sign of any being the right way.
He grumbled as he began his test of light along their entrances— nothing.
“Is anything I am doing usual here?” He complained to himself.
“The first bridge leads a way.” A voice replied, raising Gregor’s sword to right behind him. The bridge he took was gone, and in its place stood the headless man just on the edge of the platform.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
He stared. Keeping his mouth shut.
Turning right around— mentally crossing, the first bridge off his list.
“Ignoring does nothing to get rid of me.” The man’s voice came almost a whisper, coming into view just at the side of his vision. “The third is also an option as well.”
Alright, so marking off the third.
“You know, your knowledge of mimics is fairly limited. And this Trial for that matter.” The being hummed. “Have you considered that this path is simply an endless maze, and the real leap is going off the beaten path?”
Was he just saying— to have himself jump off the platform?
“Ridiculous.” Gregor reflexively whispered, nearly inaudible to himself.
“Ah, but didn’t you spend so much time going down that endless dirt road?” The headless man replied. Catching his attention.
How—
“I’ve seen it all, from the very moment you’ve arrived.” The being began to stroll around. Almost nonsensically, their hands behind the back. And to what Gregor imagined, a head held much too high. “After all, you require hints for your Awakening and this isn’t going to be any easier if you don’t take some of my words for what they are.”
He huffed, already feeling it was too late to do anything more. Less these visits become more antagonizing. “And what would that be?”
The man stopped. “Why help, you see?”
He didn’t. There wasn’t a point in talking, even listening as the hums began again. Waiting for a voice.
Gregor looked over the bridges again— two and four. Being the only ones to consider.
There’s got to be a way.
But if there was, he certainly couldn’t see the pattern.
He had to trust his gut once more, perhaps this even part of the test itself. How quickly could someone deal with this man's choices?
Gregor strode in caution, taking the second path as faded into the mist.
----------------------------------------
The splintered soul was gone, off on seemingly his own choice.
Relishing a grin upon their— well, nothing. Oh to have an expression like to all those that have come before.
But this was not a good one, their words weren’t trusted. So too was the difficulty vexing, there would need to be a bit more… diligence.
There was no clap, before the puff of smoke left the platform bare of anything except the four bridges.
----------------------------------------
Elsewhere, the cracked moon cast upon its light on top of a lone mountain. At the very peak a mansion of wood stood.
An invisible man, dressed in a pristine suit stood on the back balcony. Casting a piercing gaze through all the woodlands and mist within this bound realm. Studying the curious thing that made its way through the trial presented to them.
The man looked to the moon above. Its fragments no longer spread like the stars in the old night. Now, it's nearly whole, forming an end to the man’s duties.
When it was time to return to the skies above, it would be a cause for celebration. But for now, enjoying one of, if not thee, last trial the man had to host was certainly a break and a glimpse to what comes of the world below.
That was if it was meant to be.
If they were able to take the hints to heart.
Really, time whittled the mind too much and the heart too little. Perhaps this was already too much, certainly facilitating the Awakening, but the signet hadn’t flared, so who was to judge?
Instead, the mind wondering on or skipping the decades, the man watched every minute. Awaiting for what play would come out of this discourse and strife.
----------------------------------------
The view was much the same. Nothing was heard, and just as nearly seen.
Gregor let out a breath as he finished casting Arpsk. His sense of the changes in Thame were silent.
Mimics should have made their way around. But, where?
The thought lingered well on along the trek, until the bridge rose in slope and the edges of another marble disk came to view. The fog seemingly grew thicker.
He was still cautious. His sword raised, Miasma ready.
The moment he stood onto the marble, everything lit his senses without his focus.
A gust picked up from nowhere. Thame tingled across his skin along the wind.
The mist cleared the center, revealing a snowflake made of paper fans. Less clean cut, more twisted. And with a flat front seemingly trying to mimic a face— with a great crooked grin to show for it.
Gregor’s heart spiked.
----------------------------------------
Feelings should be something well known. Actions, words, imagination… fueling the emotions derived from their conception.
The important thing about them was that you would know why? Why were you— mad, sad, happy… and everything in between. At least an idea of why.
But the longer Henry thought about it. The longer he reminded himself; of the swollen bruises, the pointed criticism, and the punch that was filled with anything but discipline. The more frustrated he became, because the anger didn’t come from anywhere there.
It was only filled with echoes of regret.
So there he laid, in his temporary room. Looking at the ceiling as the rage still dragged. Sometimes in waves, bursts of anger that unknowing found his fist clenching, before it all receded, back to a simmer and slight frown.
Henry gave up all hope with keeping track of time, getting lost in his own head had been a pastime.
But the door had to open at some point— breaking him out of his loops, and shifting a side glance to a specter coming in.
Ize… His mind supplied, with mist filling up the door frame and closing it for privacy.
“How are you feeling?” Ize asked, concerned— maybe, he couldn’t really remember anyone else besides Riker. As she floated over by the bed. Doing nothing as Henry returned to gaze at the ceiling.
There was a slight miff to her cough, but he couldn’t be bothered. Stewing further into silence.
A long sight broke this one, “We understand the last few weeks have been challenging and we are proud of your accomplishments…” Henry’s eyelid spasmed. “…things will be much light from—“
“Why are you lying?” Henry interrupted.
“I’m sorry?” Ize sounded startled. “Henry we are only—“
“If you finish that sentence with anything like, “we want the best for you,” going let the Wys die with you all.” Ize took a sharp breath. “And if you think that I am some sort of idiot who couldn’t pick up on your disappointment, then—“ he scoffed, “—you all must be bigger dumbasses than me.”
“Henry we understand that this is challenging, its natural in the ways of the Seeker. We never expected anything grand—“
“But you expected more.” Henry interrupted again, the tick in his eye came back. His fists tightened.
“As I said it's a challenging existence.” Ize sternly replied. “We appreciate the effort you are putting in to honor this chance.”
“Honor?!” Something snapped within him. Henry shot up from the bed, directly in front of where he felt Ize’s eyes be. Furry bore its depths. His Thame unconsciously roared, seeping out at the edges of his entire body. “Is that what it all means to you?! What about me— the guy you all trying to carry on this cult?”
The mist flared, leaking all around. “We are not a cult you insufferable swine!” The mist began to singe across his skin— his Thame more so. Being snuffed out and pressed to even reveal itself across his skin. “After all we’ve done— Do you even realize how many would bow before the stars to even be offered a second chance?! And you would waste that all away, throw our sacred order into the muck!”
“Then maybe you should've left better successors in the first place!” Henry retorted. “This was your fault, because if you think for one moment that woman didn’t betray you then your not just naive, but idi—fuckin—otic!”
The pressure slammed, for a moment he lost his breath. His heart beat over anything Ize was saying, but even whatever this was.
“You’ve tried to do all this shit.” Henry gave breath. “All this “guidance” and for what? Well I’ll tell you— you’ve failed, alright, failed— because does it look like I care? Does it look like you do?
“No! Nothing that you sacrificed for matters! After—“
Henry's vision started to blur. What felt like thousands of needles pierced along his skin, destroying any Thame coming in contact.
There was an ear piercing scream. A blast that sent the door flying wide open. But none of that mattered, there was another click. And Henry lost all consciousness from the world flooding with mist.