Chapter 4 :

After Dorea mourned her friends’ loss, or at least began to process it, she gathered herself and walked back to the cliff.

By her count, 30 out of the 41 that had partaken in the Trial had survived. Almost three-quarters had managed to make it. According to the stories Voggo had told them, this was virtually unheard of. Half of the participants becoming Gifted would have been a reason for celebration in her grandmother's generation.

I still can’t help but feel horribly bitter about all this. I know that this is excellent news for the village, but we still lost 11 people. It’s just too much.

Rustling to her left broke her out of her contemplations and made her happy to see her friends start to wake up. She had entertained the idea of shaking them awake for a second before remembering the Shaman’s stern warning not to, as that could mess up their new Gift's assimilation process.

Jonah was surprisingly the first to wake up, and from what she was feeling through her new Mana sense, he was already experimenting by moving the air around himself.

Without bothering to call out, Dorea sprinted through the distance and launched herself at him, causing them both to tumble in the grass.

His sputtering, confused expression finally broke her out of her mood, and bright laughter rang out. “ We’re alive!” she shouted at him, uncaring of personal boundaries.

“ D-dorea, please get off”, was the weak response. “I’m glad to be still in one piece myself, but at least let me get up from the grass”, Jonah pleaded.

Dorea grinned toothily at the boy, feeling happiness bubble up as she finally realized she had actually made it. She had been so focused on specific parts of the Trial that she hadn’t even allowed herself to feel relieved to have survived it.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked Jonah, patting him down to ensure nothing was out of place.

“You should have asked that before throwing me around like a doll”, he sputtered, batting her hands away with a blush.

Suddenly, they were engulfed in a tight hug, thin but surprisingly strong arms tightening around their necks and bringing them together.

“I can’t believe we made it!” Beth exclaimed, threatening to suffocate them with her show of affection.

“Release! Please release!” Jonah begged, apparently being squeezed too hard.

They were both let go, fully turning around to face a sunny smile that lacked any guile. Or so one would have thought had they not known the brunette.

Dorea returned the smile, too happy to think more deeply about it. The relief she felt at having come out of the Trial with her best friends was too much to contain, and she reached back towards Beth for another hug.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either,” Dorea said, finally releasing the other girl. “It’s almost like a…” dream, she thought, the mood suddenly plummeting again as she remembered what she had witnessed in the hazy world she had just gotten out of.

Noticing the shift in her expression, her friends turned more serious, the smiles slipping away from their faces.

“How many have we lost?” questioned Beth, already turning towards the others to see with her own eyes.

“Eleven”, replied Jonah, eyes closed in concentration. “I can’t feel eleven people at all unless they already left?” he finished with a questioning tone, head tilted towards Dorea.

“To the best of my understanding, I was the first to wake up, and no one else has left before me.”

A moment of silence passed as they all contemplated the consequence of such a loss. “I suppose that this is a decent rate of survival”, interjected Beth with a quiet voice, evidently not feeling it much herself.

The two blonds nodded in agreement, intellectually knowing that this was a good day but not up for much rejoicing about it.

Dorea took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over her. “We should see if the others have woken up.”

Jonah jumped to it. “Let’s do that, yeah”, and was soon followed by the two girls.

As they approached the others, what her senses had been telling her for a while revealed itself to her eyes, where Rupert had settled before the Trial stood another boy.

Thick brown hair fell over his brow, covering his eyes. He was kneeling by the flattened grass where someone had obviously sat not too long ago.

As she came closer, Dorea recognized him as Thomas, Rupert’s younger brother. He was shorter and stockier, but the resemblance was evident in his facial features. They were twisted in grief, fat tears falling through his lashes.

Dorea kneeled alongside him and gathered him in her arms. He went with it, not responding verbally but leaning on her shoulder.

She let him sob for a few minutes, caressing his hair in an effort to comfort him. After a while, Thomas stopped shaking and breathed deeply through his nose with his eyes closed, trying to regain his composure.

She let him, staying silent as she had been instructed by her mother if someone needed to vent their grief. It was somewhat uncomfortable, how they had been taught how to deal with the possible coming of Nature’s Wrath, but no amount of preparation felt like it was enough now that she had been through it.

“Thank you”, the boy mumbled, slowly gathering himself and standing up. Dorea watched him give one last look at the place where his older brother had vanished and turned around, stepping towards another boy that was just then waking up.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It was Mark, his other older brother and the last of the farmer’s sons. He looked so much like Rupert that Dorea quickly turned, the wound still too fresh.

All around her, people were waking up and falling into either despair at the loss of someone or shouting in happiness at having passed the Trial.

She ignored Mark’s shout of anguish, not feeling ready to think more deeply about what she had witnessed.

Stomach twisting in a knot, Dorea made the rounds, checking in with everyone. She knew everyone, though not to the level of calling them all friends. The age disparity between a fourteen years old and a twenty years old person was not exactly conducive to making friends.

Mark the Blue, called so because of the slightly blueish tint of his hair and to distinguish him from the other four Marks that lived in the village, was twenty-one. He was at the cutoff for taking the Trial, and had it happened a few months later, Voggo wouldn’t have allowed him to participate.

He was a member of the village Scouts, a group that ensured no one intruded on their lands and acted as information gatherers on the herds’ movements.

At the moment, he was making lightning dance between his fingers, enthralled by his new power.

He’s the oldest here; he’ll probably soon become one of the lead scouts considering the sheer gap between Gifted and non. If we just don't overhaul Whitecliff's systems.

Considering the new power dynamics, their little society was about to change completely. It was not like anyone would attempt a hostile takeover as it sometimes happened after a Trial, Dorea knew, but things were naturally going to be different.

Voggo has taught us that power gravitates towards those who have power. The strongest Gifted will inevitably have a greater voice in how things are run.

It was not necessarily a bad thing in her mind. Their life wasn’t lacking, but it was still very monotonous. The shake-up would only make things more interesting.

If Voggo knew what I thought, he’d clip me around the ears for thinking that young people can solve every problem.

Dorea smiled fondly. The old man was a cantankerous sort, but he had led the tribe as its only Gifted for more than two decades and allowed them to live in peace.

It was not uncommon for people to gain powers and suddenly start having dreams of conquest. In fact, I bet that gathering information on how the surrounding tribes are moving will be his first priority after ensuring the village is still livable.

Whilst she was thinking, the others had started to gather. Their grief was not gone, but they all knew there would be time for it later. They needed to trek back to the village and alert everyone else that the Wrath had passed.

The mighty storm was still visible in the distance, purple lightning arches visible even from where they stood.

More than one person looked at it with a complicated expression, both angry and thankful for the Gift it had provided.

Others were experimenting with their new powers; from what she could see, the majority had water or wind magic. Only a couple had lightning sparking around them.

I suppose I’ll have to face the fact that I can feel connections to all three elements soon, huh?

Dorea had a feeling that what she had gone through in the dream should have killed her. Whatever she had met, she had had no way of protecting herself from them, and the only thing that had saved her was the pendant still hanging around her neck.

It felt cold and inert to the touch, like a perfectly ordinary object, but she knew very well that it was not.

I really need to talk with Mom and Dad when we finally get some privacy. They have not been telling me everything about Grandma.

What happened in the dream also changed how her Gift was given to her; that much was clear.

I have never heard of anyone with control over more than one element.

Dorea closed her eyes and tried to make the air around herself move like she was feeling a few of the others do, but it felt sluggish. It was like she was waving her hands in a useless attempt at making the air move while the others had great fans aiding them. She could create a weak breeze with a lot of effort, but it was nothing compared to the manipulation she saw the others manage.

Frustrated, she switched to trying to move the water in a puddle nearby. It didn’t go much better; the most she could get was for it to rise from the ground slowly, the ball of water trembling as if threatening to escape her control.

Almost dreading the result, she raised her hand, concentrating on the feeling of buzzing that came from her brain. She tried to replicate it between her fingers, imagining an arc flashing, the lightning coiling.

Her efforts were rewarded with a lacklustre spark, more like the effort of two rocks striking each other than like the streaks of light she could see Mark the Blue playing with.

It seems like I’m not the special little snowflake I thought I was.

Her mood souring, Dorea decided to revisit the problem later.

“Hey guys, I know we are all very proven after going through all that, but we really need to start heading to the village.” She decided to get moving to avoid thinking too deeply about it. “We should let everyone know that the storm has passed.”

Everyone seemed to startle at her words, apparently not having thought about how their families would still be in the shelter waiting for them to come and tell them that it was safe to come out.

Slowly, people got up from the grass and started to move towards the trail that would lead them back to the village. Dorea walked forwards at the head of the line and was quickly reached by her two best friends.

The trek back to Whitecliff was done in quiet contemplation as they all observed the damage wrought by the storm. While the landscape was quite devastated, their homes were mostly intact. Dorea knew that this was only possible because, at the time of the founding, their tribe was full of Earth Mages, who had survived the terrible earthquake that had destroyed their previous village.

They, alongside the few Metal Mages they had, had dedicated themselves to building houses that would stand the trial of both time and Nature’s Wrath. The few buildings in bad condition were those made after the last Earth Mage died almost two decades ago.

That did not mean, however, that there would not be work to do. The infrastructure may still be standing, but from where they were walking, it was pretty noticeable how all their fields and pastures were mostly gone. There had been no time to pull in a harvest, the warning coming far too late for such a thing.

And even if we managed to save most of the livestock, I’ll be surprised if we can keep them all alive in the next few days. Dorea twisted her lips in thought. Far more likely, we’ll have to butcher them and share their meat with everyone to make up for the absence of crops.

Her dreams of going on an expedition in the forest to hunt megafauna were quickly dying as she seriously doubted that she’d be able to do much more than ruffle a Therium’s hair.

I will have to experiment a bit more once I have some time to myself. I refuse to believe that is all I’m capable of.

The village was coming closer, and the excitement to see their families was warring with the sadness of having to share their loss with them.

Though everyone knew to be prepared for the eventuality, it was a different thing for it to actually happen.

The last few hundred feet felt more like a walk to the headsman axe than a homecoming of triumphant heroes. Dorea could only hope that Voggo had been preparing the parents of those who underwent the Trial for the real chance of never seeing their children again.

They stopped in front of the Shaman’s house, where, only a few hours before, they had received the potion that would allow them to survive the Trial in such high numbers.

It felt bittersweet, being there once again, and a solemn mood fell over the crowd of youngsters.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Dorea entered Voggo’s place and went directly to the middle of his living area, where a stone slab covered the shelter where the villagers had taken refuge.

Concentrating on her control over the air, Dorea attempted to make her words louder and direct the sound below.

“The Wrath has passed. You can come out now,” she tried to convey.

It took her a while, more than she would have liked, but the subtle manipulation came more successfully than her earlier attempts.

At least I have a little finesse. I’ll have to work with that.

Movement from below her roused her from her contemplation, and she stepped back to allow the people below to push the slab away from the entrance.

Voggo was the first to step through, shouldering aside Tom, the blacksmith who had apparently been chosen to move the heavy stone. He looked at her up and down, smiling briefly in relief before schooling his expression and ventured outside to see the situation.

Shortly thereafter, the villagers started to stream outside; elderly and kids, men and women, all greeted her with a smile of congratulations before hurrying out to see if their relatives had made it.

Almost last, her parents and sister walked out of the shelter, their worried expressions melting immediately at seeing her.

Dorea found herself engulfed in her parent's arms; her little sister’s coming around her midriff. She would have customarily protested, but at that moment, she could only breathe in the familiar scents and relax for the first time since the news that Nature’s Wrath was coming had broken.

And if a few tears slipped from her eyes, well, no one was there to notice such a thing.

Buried in her father’s chest, her mother’s hands caressing her hair, and her sister’s arms tight around her, Dorea felt finally at peace.

After a few minutes of emotionally charged silence, they started to unwind from each other.

Lilian, her mother, caressed her cheek with great tenderness whilst her father spoke with misty eyes, “ We knew you would make it, dearest. We are incredibly proud of you.”

Dorea smiled brightly, her heart full of love.

“I had no doubt!” came from Lia, and though the tear tracks and red eyes betrayed her, Dorea chose not to mention it.

Together, they exited the Shaman’s house and walked to where Voggo was holding court. The old man had wasted no time noting what power every new Gifted had gained and was apparently already giving them orders.

A group containing Beth was moving towards the fields, apparently chosen for their water Magic. I bet they will have to drain the excess water and try to save as many crops as possible.

Noticing them, Voggo motioned for them to join him. “Dorea, what kind of Magic can you use?”

“I can use all three elements of the storm”, she replied to astonished faces, “but I seem to be more focused on finesse than raw power”, she added, a bit embarrassed.

The look in the old man’s eyes told her he was quite surprised, but he quickly gathered himself. “We’ll have to test that later; help your parents put the ranch back together for now. We’ll need the meat.”

His apparent nonchalance seemed to convince everyone that her situation was not too weird, for which she was grateful.

She nodded at him to show that she understood the subtext and joined her family as they returned home.