With a final slice of his father’s falx, Bomond forced himself through the gap in the briar fence and became the first Fenarian to set foot upon the Forbidden Slope in four centuries. He brushed away the burs and dust from his face before he opened his eyes. Trepidation and triumph gave way to an overwhelming sense of awe.

Bomond gaped as he took in the majesty of what lay before him. He rubbed his eyes and compelled his head to turn first to his left and then to his right, taking in the lucent expanse of Mount Veren. Strange trees buffeted the edge of the clearing. The trees were of varied heights, and their leaves appeared in equally varied shades of scarlet, amethyst, and even green. He had never seen anything like it. He couldn’t find a single tree with grey leaves, but a hissing sound returned his gaze. Right! The Flame-Rain!

While his hands lowered the falx to its home on his belt, Bomond took in the most incontrovertible fact confronting him in this plethora of unknowns. It was real! The Flame-Rain was no myth. There it was. Liquid, purple flame had begun pouring down. He looked up, and the sky was…no sky at all. It was a river, alive and shimmering in notes of purple and amber. He couldn’t see the suns. Everything about him was lit in a strange golden glow which made the Flame-Rain all the more stunning.

Drops of living flame poured down onto the ground with the nearest drops a couple of yards in front of him. Visibility was a luxury now, and Bomond froze. What if the Flame-Rain came closer? What if it fell on him? He suppressed a gulp, but his left foot stepped back anyway. Before his right followed it, however, the Flame-Rain stopped.

The sky was now more golden than purple. Its luminescence was more potent now. Everything appeared brighter. It was all true. ‘Hadaron was right… Or, he was right so far,’ Bomond corrected himself. He took out the precious book and his reed-quill. The Hadaron Chronicles lay emblazoned in what appeared to be crimson lettering on the dark leather cover, but Bomond suspected this was because of the weird yellow light of this place. He knew his book more than anything else. The title was actually written in a magenta shade.

Bomond opened the book and skipped the first few pages and found what he was looking for.

The first and most fascinating sight to grip the journeyman on the Forbidden Slopes is definitely the great Flame Rain.

Bomond wrote the words, ‘True’ next to it and before he could proceed, he was startled.

“Bomond?!”

No! It can’t be! Not now…Oh no’, groaned Bomond as he turned back towards the person beckoning him. He didn’t have to. He would have recognized that contemptuous voice anywhere. As anticipated, the shining seax that parted the briars was followed by voluminous flaxen hair that seemed to be shimmering with the rage of its owner.

‘Curse it! Of all the people, why’d it have to be her?’, sighed Bomond as he let go of his falx, and before he could give into further despair, the human-looking harpy he’d known all his life gave voice to that wretched condescension he knew just as intimately.

“Bomond Thrillian. Stay right there. I’ll have your brown hide for..What the..!”

Brown-hided Bomond did what he had often done when confronted by the she-devil who was his rival and closest friend: he carefully stared past those glorious but malevolent, straw-colored locks, bewitching cream-colored face, and nefarious hazel eyes, to some random point behind her.

He was rightfully proud when he succeeded in doing so. He stifled that smirk of accomplishment he usually relished when he vanquished her ‘demonic’ charms. He had to focus. So focus he did, at the forest behind her, from where they had entered.

The gigantic redwoods dominated the forest where grey leaves made room for no other color. ‘How odd!’, Bomond mused. Grey leaves. That was normal. Leaves were supposed to be grey, or that’s what he thought until now. He looked below the trees where dense shrubbery and grey briars had filled the boundary woods till it seemed impassable. ‘It WAS impassable,’ thought Bomond, ‘until Hadaron’s book had opened it for him’.

‘Wait!’, he alerted himself as he noticed that magnificent opportunity at the periphery of his tunneled vision. He wouldn’t let such a treasure go unclaimed.

“Emojen, pick your mandible off the ground and put it back where it belongs, guarding the dungeon where your traitorous tongue ought to be imprisoned.’

That did it. Emojen’s dangerous allure surrendered to his relentless wit as her countenance once again manifested the expression he found easiest to tackle: wrathful with a few sprinklings of disdain, and disappointment, and finished with dollops of exasperation. Yeah, he could handle her ire. This was the Emojen he had the most success dealing with. His wit against her fire.

“Bomond, for once in your life, just stop being childish. Your petty insults didn’t work when we were kids. For Heldar’s sake! We are sixteen. At least try acting like a man.”

‘It was petty’, Bomond recognized, but the nostalgic glee Bomond derived from taunting his only real friend was worth it. It was worth the time he got to plan how he would deal with this unexpected turn of events.

Emojen wasn’t supposed to be here. Nobody was. Except for him. Once again, he had detached his mind from Emojen’s tirade, so when she grabbed him by the collar of his tattered shirt, he was stupefied and speechless.

“Are you insane, Bomond? Have you any idea what you have done? You mangy cur, you’ll be killed! The guards, the priests, the people… heck, everybody will tear you apart. What on Fernia were you thinking? Come with me right now. I’ll fix this. I can get us back safely. No one has to kno..,”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The last part of her outburst had shocked him back to his senses. He shook his head defiantly and pried her hands off his collar.

“No, Emo. No, I’ll not turn back. Not now. Not until I get what I came for.”

Emojen’s voice dropped dangerously low. ‘Uh-oh, be cautious now’, Bomond warned himself.

“Bomond, I am serious now. Whatever new mudbrained scheme you have concocted,” she growled, “dump it and listen to me for once. You have had your thrill, Thrillian. You have done what nobody has dared to do. That’s it. It is over. Now forget the rest and come back with me. Think of your parents. Think of Yaron and Alympia. Think about your grandparents, your whole family, your clan. Your stupidity will destroy them. Forget this nonsense.”

Bomond had been carefully scrutinizing her face while he listened to her expected words. He noticed the mention of his parents and waited for her to bring up his brother and sister. He acknowledged her mention of his grandfolks and the Thrillian clan. Yes, these appeals all fit the pattern. But, he caught that tightening of her eyes as she uttered that final ‘nonsense’. Heldar-damn it! She knew!

“You know? You really know what I…” spluttered Bomond.

Emojen sighed, “Yes, Bommy”, Bomond cringed, but Emojen marched on, “I know. I may not be as smart as you think you are, but I can read books too. I can read tracks even better. And I can read YOU best of all. Now no more delays. Cease this madness. Come with me. Let’s go”.

She tried to punctuate her command by grabbing his collar again, but this time he was ready, and he gently blocked her attempt with his hands.

“No, Emojen. I swore I would see this to the end, come what may”, Bomond uttered with as much finality as he could muster. “I know you think this is madness. But this ‘madness’ is what I need. No, Emojen, stop arguing…”, Emogen dropped her hands and bit back her words as the source of her frustration continued, “Yes, I do need this. And no, no matter what you say or do, my mind is made up. I will not give up. I don’t care. I will not live like this anymore. I will not have my kin endure mockery and drudgery in return for scraps.”

Emojen had known about his venomous vehemence for years because he had made them plain to her, but the sheer force of it still shook her, “Bomond, it’ll be over in a week. Our Ascension is scheduled. Nobody can change it. We’ll be Baptized, and we’ll Transcend. You’ll become empowered like everybody else. You’ll also get…”

“Get crumbs, Emogen. Stop deluding yourself, girl. You know it as well as I do. The Stream through which the Arcane-worm bodies flow is as unjust as everything else in the village. My clan’s slot remains at the far end of the stream. When the dam opens, and the dead worms begin to flow, and by the time anything reaches us, if they do at all, there’ll be naught but Arcane slops.”

Emojen had gone silent. Bomond knew what she was imagining. It was his intention after all. In the eerie silence of the clearing where they stood, he could see her crafting the images of the Stream of Power in her mind, as it began its flow from the open dam gates a week from today. Every year it was the same. They had seen it many times before.

The richest families of their village would stand closest to the starting point, getting to capture the prizest of worms in their luxurious nets. They would pick the best and even effect visages of benevolence as they dumped the rest of the worms back into the Stream, for the rest of the village denizens.

Dozens of yards later, the moderately wealthy would get to try their luck with the remaining worm bodies that floated down. By the time the peasants got their chance, hundreds of yards down the line, there would be nothing worthy left. And even among the peasants, injustice prevailed. Older clans would get to select first, and the Thrillians who had only moved here a few generations ago would be relegated to the end of the line.

As this part of the ‘Road to Ascension’ crossed his mind, Bomond’s fury erupted in his voice, “So! Even if I miraculously got any worm and consumed it, my Baptism would be yet another joke on my life. I will Transcend into nothing. The shell of a worm I MAY get to consume will leave me empowered with a whole stinking barrow of nothing.”

Bomond paused as his chest heaved, but Emojen wasn’t speaking, so he growled again, “You will wait at the middle of the stream, Emojen. You have a chance of true Ascension. Once you eat your worm, you will become really Baptized. You will Manifest Your Vessel and Begin your Journey. I am honestly happy for you, Emojen. I wish you everything you desire.”

Bomond saw Emojen’s face soften for a moment, but before it could harden again, he persevered, “But I will not lose the chance this book has given me. The Stream of Power begins from the Forbidden Slopes”. Emojen nodded, confirming what they both knew, and Bomond decided to press his case even though she knew what he intended to do. ‘Perhaps, hearing it spoken in his voice, instead of reading Hadaron’s words, would convince her’, thought Bomond.

“I now know that this is also where the Arcane-worms come from. The Stream of Power is where they go to die, Emojen.” claimed Bomond. She was still nodding. ‘So far so good’, he thought. He couldn’t let her spoil his one chance at a better life. A better life for his parents, his siblings, and his clan. He could change all their lives. His terrible determination sprang forth, “I will hunt a live Arcane-Worm and consume it, Emojen, or perish trying.”

At that, two things happened simultaneously. First, Emojen attempted to renew her protests. But, Bomond had shut himself to her words by compelling his attention to a tiny puddle a few yards behind him. He turned away from a furious Emojen, and made his thoughts follow his gaze at the puddle. But it wasn’t a water puddle. It was a puddle of Liquid Flame. Second, the Flame-Rain began to pour once more.

The puddle started growing towards him. Bomond couldn’t smother his shiver. He saw Flame-Rain for the first time this day, but everybody had heard about it in the village. The Flames of Hell that could scour away the flesh off one’s bones. It was a terror-story, the stuff of nightmares, intended to scare people off even thinking about the Forbidden Slopes.

Here was the moment of truth. ‘Can this book be trusted?’, doubted Bomond. He had contemplated this question for the last several months since he received this boon. The book was supposed to be his ‘secret’, but Emojen had pried it open. Nothing could be done about it now. ‘Curse it. But the Flame-Rain, I cannot believe the words. Could Hadaron be saying the truth?’, he wondered. Bomond had planned several tests before he would make that call. Emojen’s presence had shattered all hopes of such fancies.

The puddle was now just a yard away. Emojen was moving to grab him again, slowed by the intimidating wonder of seeing the Flame-Rain for the first time. He had to make a choice. She wouldn’t understand. He had tried. He knew that she would try to stop him. ‘To Hell with it!’, Bomond steeled himself, and without giving himself time to resist, stretched his left leg to dip his sandaled toes into the puddle of sizzling, purple Flame!

Emojen screamed just as Bomond did. However, Emojen’s horror was not matched by Bomond’s exhilaration as he steeped his whole feet into the flaming puddle and began running towards the slope as fast as he possibly could, screaming gleefully as he traversed the uncharted flame-waters flowing down the slope. He didn’t look back once.

Cold!!! The Flame was cold! Just as the book said! He would Ascend! He would be Baptized Under Fire.