The world fell away, Gregor’s mind lapsed into confusion at the myriad of emotions glancing his mind. Peeling its ways through his senses till he gasped for breath before everything returned to silence.
He reeled back a groan, feeling the dark cover of ground he laid upon. Another few seconds and he would had lapsed into unconsciousness.
Unique Rank… It was nearly too much bear, even with an Obelisk. Bound to give him a fair chance.
But he wondered how fair it was thought to be. Because there was only two ends here, success, and, well… he shouldn’t think about it.
He raised his head from the dirt, Gregor looked upon the world of the Trial. Greeting to the sight of a cracked moon and dark sky, trees of a forest much too crooked to be anything natural. There was but a single clearing that the moon shone upon, breaking the forest to a dirt path, leading only forward for nothing but the darkness of trees was behind him.
Gregor took a breath. Remembering a shift in the world as he entered. The gentle veil across his skin nearly made him shudder.
He had never personally felt the Trials in passing, time always seemed to skip. One moment he was stepping into the Rift the next he was out. With not a lick of recollection of what took place within.
But those early days, he took note. They were to gripping with emotion to be forgotten even with the aid of his records.
He remembered how Theodore would shiver, how he could hear the squeeze of his leather gloves when he talked about the first Trial. His moment of Awakening was violent. He had no direction, barely any recollection of the even besides a burning sensation throughout his body.
But when it was all said and done, the Trial in which he step into was not the one he knew.
His master would recount, when the first signs of snow fell upon that ruined land a hill awoke and wiped away any sense of peace that was the spring green before him.
Of course he lived, but he nearly broken by his own fortune. But one question stood regardless of the story told of slog and anguish— if he was given a Trial to Awaken, surely he could grasp the Thame concentrated in the air.
But, this wasn’t true for him… he could feel something strange. Something else. As he tried to will through what he knew before, only failing and wasting time with no sense of direction.
He didn’t know anything to be wrong with himself. Trial realms should have more Thame with higher ranks. Did this land not? Is that why he couldn’t gathering anything, but the insistent feeling of unknown pressure? It was half the reason he remembered that Seekers delved, because the air was so rich with Thame that sometimes the proofs weren’t a necessary reward.
No— something is wrong here.
He feel it in his bones. He was sure of it— his heart beat unpleasantly. Gregor looked on and around the horrid world, with but a single break in peace.
He checked his pack, his gear. Everything was there… everything but his food and water. Bells rang obsessively in his head, but there was nothing to be done. The only thing he could do here was move on. Forward, along his path.
His pace was sedated, keeping his wits and ends open to the sparse scene. Nothing was changing, not for an hour, not even the moon. Still high, seemingly condemned to be stuck in place for eternity.
Time went on, unknown to him, becoming lost on the lone dirt road, but the strangest thing was he wasn’t feeling tired… nor hunger, or thirst. Even the need to relieve himself was an absent possibility, because he could feel it. The edges of his mind unwound to the hallowed voice.
“An empty path leads nowhere.”
A shiver surged his spine. Gregor whipped his head around to find someone, but all was the same. Only the dirt from whence he came.
His heart beat a million steps ahead. Pulsating in his ears to a familiar memory, one that he would do best to adapt to quickly, less it got to his head.
An empty path… Gregor thought, looking around and pausing at the dark depths of the twisted forest.
Was this what it meant, or what this itself the test?
He feared a split in his mind. That the moment he stepped out of the bounds of the dirt he would likely be accosted by all manner of unknown creatures. Things made from Nightmares if he was certain, and he very much was. For what kind of world this be anything but for Nightmares.
Gregor liked to think he was decisive, that nothing would stand in his way on the threshold of his ascent. But imagination and reality are fickle things to enact, a thought, no matter how viable, stands before the world and trembles as much a person could bear. And though he liked to think he could hold up the world, he wasn’t that man anymore, diving into the wars of Seekers and Cults without end. Breaking against the tide, and surviving till the end.
The future made those men, those potential Gregors. If he wanted his chance, or any chance for that matter he had to learn from his own example.
“Wisdom guides. Experience makes.” He said absently, stupid as they were he dread to say that to anyone at their own crossroads.
Perhaps because it was self-evident, that all knew but were too arrogant to remind themselves. And when they did, they would feel just as daft as he was now.
Gregor exhaled, and his body loosened just slightly. But it was enough, like the creek he plunged, he went— there was no second guessing. He took out his sword, and ran straight into the darkness.
Regardless his fate, he ran as he felt a familiar emotion that made good men into great men.
Desperation.
----------------------------------------
Gregor dashed to the briefest peace of moonlight piercing through the canopy. His sword came up to block, the shadow tendril reached beyond its grasp. Failing any contact— eviscerated by touch of moonlight. Returning the world to near silence.
He took gasped heavy breaths. Damn it— he hated he was right about the horror and wrong for the charity.
But there wasn’t a moment more of rest, a flicker in the shadows caught his attention. Deeper than the known black it was. Shadows incarnate, if he had to place the words, would come and gather as one, their strength would surge; making them quicker, strong, in their formless way.
Gregor looked to his sights, straight as he thought it be. Winding in and out of the light, breezing just by trunks that jutted out entirely at a sharp points. As if a spear to run him through.
One jump, or a misplaced step— Gregor briefly flashed a look to the shadows, before kicking off and ran out of the moonlight.
The chase went on. Shadows gaining. Seeking moonlight refuge. Rest for a few seconds. Repeat.
A shadow formed a point, springing forth just before his eight refuge. No longer did they come from behind, they came from everywhere.
Gregor raised the flat of his blade, intercepting the course. The shadow recoiled by its own force, bouncing off, slowing his charge. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the stumble in his steps.
The shadow took to form again. Aimed at his head. His heart sank, adrenaline spiked. Letting the the weight of gravity take hold to duck. It was slow, almost painfully so, the dark gleam aimed directly where his head was by a single breath. He was safe, it missed he was certain.
Only for the form to change. A curved blade grew from its side, reaching for life. He only saw it at the tail end. Feeling the rest. The flow through his hair, and the cut at the edge of his skull. Burning in warm pain. Flushed out by another spike in his heart.
The assault almost seized him, nearly lapsing and wasting the clear way.
Gregor sprinting the last leg to the clearing. Feeling the touch of moonlight, and the warm trickle of blood caressing down the back of his skull and neck.
He slumped, taking breath. His hands holding over to his slightly bended knees. For all the energy that was coming back to him, it wasn’t enough for this. The walk along the road didn’t call more than he needed. But this, maybe another two or three runs was all he had, then he would have to fight these shadow creatures head on.
With their forms changing so quickly, he didn’t like his—
Clap. Clap. Clap…
The sounds of slow clapping jutted him out of rest. His head whipped and sword draw in the direction.
But there was nothing— not even those formless shadows were there. His gaze jutted all around and yet... nothing. None of them were there!
A light caught his eye from the direction of the drawn out tempo. It bobbed up and down in motion, until it came close enough to see what it was. A floating lantern. Without anyone at the handle.
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But that was just it, there was someone there. Walking in pace next to the light, appearing until the edge of the clearing. The clapping petered out.
Before him stood a man, dress in ornate furls of long white cloth under a vest and dress of smooth but similar waves at the seams. Dark gloves covered his hands, and his shoes pristine as the blackened sky.
Only Gregor was shaken, the longer he stared the more it simmered. For two things passed his thoughts.
But one person could enter each Trial, if true then the man before him could not be. More so as he stared, for where he looked another in the eyes, there was nothing— not a head or neck, but air. And yet still, the clothes gave a form— the collar looked especially loose on the man.
“Well done.” A voice came from the headless man. A shiver went along his spine— he recognized this voice, only hours ago he hear its call. “A day, and another hint would’ve been my call. But you are a strange being. Old yet young. Confused yet certain.”
Gregor’s eyes went wide.
“But we shall have time, until then you are free to stay in the grove and waste your days. Or you may come along, and have some answers for yourself.” Stunned as Gregor was, it didn’t take more than a seconds for the headless man to turn his back. “The light shall banish the shadows so long as you follow, delaying would only bring them from their lurking and you unknown of when you shall meet me again.”
The headless man retreated his steps further into the dark, the lantern lingering every second step. But it too would soon disappear.
He should have thought more of this, of it all. But with Thame— with this all. He needed his chance, no matter if this… thing was a threat, it promised answers.
Because why would it speak to him in the first place? Leading him off the path, and then promise rescue?
Unless this was all some sick— twisted game, reaching for hope when there was none. But… what choice did he have in the matter?
He huffed befalling a sinking feeling in his gut. Not knowing if he be damned or this was the stroke of luck. He dashed for the lantern. The light matching his pace, guiding him along just ahead of him, only the being was gone.
Not a shadow spawned from the shade. Not even the furthest edges of his sight as the lantern wound and bound through the trees. True to the beings word, as the lantern took him all over in nonsensical directions.
For a moment he thought he was back to where he first started. The forested ended, and a dirt road came in sight, only this time the path further was shrouded by a gentle mist. Further on, a collective of floating lanterns lit the edges of the path.
His guiding lantern slowed to a brisk walk. As he delved into the mist he could not see further than the light and a few meters before him. And just as abruptly, the mist gave way to a crossroads, one leading to a to the top of a lone hill with what looked to be a large cabin a lit with a dozen lantern lights. The other, winded down the slope, kissing the small plain before branching to a bridge and raging stream, to another forest, one that didn’t seem so twisted. Gregor would almost dare to say natural, if not for the rainbow flashes of color that danced like fireflies.
His gaze lingered on the light show, but, as if the panic welled in the distance, the lights extinguished themselves. Leaving only the dark, and the light of the moon for the forest.
The lantern wasn’t so courteous to wait, already drifting along to the cabin high on the hill.
He caught up to the front door, gaining another look rather a cabin— this was a mansion. If in the style of one.
The door open without anyone to greet, but the lantern went and so did Gregor.
What he came to sight was something he could imaging being a noble’s hide away off in some distant forest. Decked with candle light hanging from the walls, illuminating the three boxed arches separating the halls. Forward was twice the size of the adjacent, if only to accommodate a flight of stairs to the second floor.
But the light didn’t follow his gaze up high, it moved forward and passed the steps that faded to darkness.
Gregor went along, past the arch and steps to a grand display of what would be a dinning room.
Paintings decorated the walls in twisted colors, with what looked to be butterflies, flowers, and fall trees shedding their leaves. Cloth hung like banners in trying colors, not aspiring yet… no, but looking to be an early and light form of composition.
Still, it was a stark contrast to everything else. Especially in the center, where the marble-like table stood—
He seized.
In the place of a dozen chairs, there were only two; one on each end. A seat already filled and waiting on the farthest end, even as the lantern went off to one other arches connecting to this room. Its light fading from view.
“Sit.” The headless man called. And after nearly stumbling, he did. Onto the plain hard chair that did nothing for the room. “Your a curious one, but not in the way most would think.”
Gregor only blatantly stared.
“But first, I must ask. Are you certain you wish to proceed?” The headless man asked, “You can leave this very moment, though you will not have Awakened. You may still yet live.”
The question blaring alarms. Did this being have the power to control the Trial?
“What are you?” Gregor asked.
There was a hum— the headless man hummed! Leaning back into his chair. “A fair question. Unfortunately for you, I am not bound for that one.” The seconds lapsed in wanting, “I require an answer. And nothing may begin, before you do provide.”
Gregor grimaced internally, somehow feeling the pressure of his choice. Yet he could not have one, because there was only one answer in his heart.
“I wish to continue.” Gregor said.
“Very well.” The being replied, leaning forward and snapped one of his gloves. Manifesting ornate keys lined in front of Gregor. All the same style, if shown by the next in line how it would be decades under the mercy of the elements. “Before you lies four keys; four states of challenges. From the most pristine, the easiest path alloted. To the most decayed, the hardest.
You may only choose one and your Trial shall begin.”
Gregor transfixed himself to the keys. Though there was something else catching his attention, or rather it was more of it’s absence.
His left hand caressed his head. Ghosting over his inane wound, but there was nothing. His hair was still cut, bits of dry blood flaked from touch of splintered hairs, but he felt no ravaged cut. Only an indent, left as a scar.
How…? The thought took up the moment, because this— this here was another impossible experience.
He had no such power, and Trials were not so kind.
A drum of fingers brought him out of his thoughts. Coaxing his mind back to the present, to what he could imagine a man giving him a very pointed look for wasting his time. Pairing the sounds of his fingertips well in form.
“Is there nothing else— more you could explain?” Gregor stuttered.
The tapping stopped, “Since this is your Awakening Trial you are to be given various degrees of help.” Another snap and sculptures of stone appeared in the center of the table. A butterfly. A bridge suspended over a chasm. And a locked chest. “At each beginning stage, you shall be given a hint— in order— the first choice shall give all the hints. Should you choose anything more difficult, the proceeding keys shall rescind the last hint available.
“Repeat until the most degraded key leave you nothing but your own wits end.”
“Then what of the Proofs?”
“At minimum, this is a Rare Ranked Trial. Be careful how you choose.” The being said slyly.
“Then, are what of these keys themselves?” Gregor asked, glancing a look at the final challenge being a chest.
It was almost a stupid question, but he felt that he must.
And to what seemed almost dramatic, the being leaned in locking his gloves together. Cheerfully bellowed, “I am not bound by that question.”
The answer found its way to unsettle his heart. Staring at the keys, his gaze lingered to the most decrepit.
There was a surge of courage, of knowledge that his lives were enough to conquer the greatest of challenges. That they were enough— that they where something far more, greater than he could every dream. That he did and more.
Almost instinctively his hand reach for it. To fulfill all his desires, for he was saved to do so.
“Careful in what you believe yourself to be.” A whisper jolted him out, reeling his hand back.
His sights darted to the being, still waiting for his choice.
Was he not ready? The thought came to an almost blaring realization. Who anyone to judge his strife? Who was anyone to know the weight on his shoulders, the burdens he carried for this chance?
He looked to the unknown being. A frown over took him regardless of anything else. Nothing happened. So he completed his leer.
A bubbling, simmering, rage unearthed. Wrangling itself at the thought of nothing more than beating this half-man down. How he almost wished to be in reach and—
Huh… Why am I thinking like this?
He stopped. It stopped. Shut like a slammed door. Those foreign inklings of emotion gone like a fading wind. Leaving him placid and unwanting.
He looked to the being again, with much the same eyes but there was something there. Just out of reach of his comprehension, almost teasingly so.
Gregor pulled away, his hands ghosting over the keys for some modicum of insight. But only silence followed.
There was no more help, if that’s what it was? Why was it there in a first place?
More questions that would probably never be answered in this life time.
But he looked to the first key, the barest of challenges. And thought the sacrifices for him to be here are not to be wasted by his efforts or his death.
So, with a moment to linger. He reached out his hand, and took the second key.
But he needed some risk to rise above everything after all.
The moment Gregor took the key, the world shuddered. A familiar feeling began to pierce his being unknowingly.
“Temptation is a hard to thing to grasp, but to each their own hell pits. I commend you, with a speck of conscious reality to call your own. And a modicum of power shouldn’t impede the binding laws.” The headless man said, no longer in his seat across the table. But leaned on the edge right next to him. “Your Trial shall be the highest strain of Rare, with a hint for the next two challenges. Follow the second path to the forest when you are ready, or don’t and perish by the end of the seventh day.”
Gregor tried to respond but he could not. The Thame that was still in part veiled upon him strained on his jaw and body held him.
“A word of caution for you.” The being turned, making sure his cuffs and gloves were straight. “If you see me again, I will do not speak truths. In this end, you are alone and nothing shall be coming to your salvation.”
There was a clap.
One moment he was sitting in a chair, the next everything faded from reality like ashes to the wind.
Five feet up and then Gregor fell on his rump.
He landed with a groan, gazing up to the blank sky. Feeling the surges of Thame, the veil was gone, revealing the world of it’s power and within himself.
Miasma danced waiting for its next beat.
One that Gregor would play without a hint of hesitation… He just needed to catch his breath, and a minute… or two.