PAIN!

Musa knew he had pushed too far.

What hit me? —Smash! It was the second time he had asked that question, and the second time, he found himself spinning, flailing, his body bouncing across the Trial Grounds like a pebble skipping the surface of a pond. His Shade Touch held his appendages intact, but each excruciating impact with the ground tore his flesh and pulverized his bones. Green Vigor tried in vain to heal the damage, but only succeeded in keeping the boy alive and aware of the agony that would have rendered an average person unconscious.

How far did he send me? —Crash! Musa had lost all sense of direction and reason after the hit. It was hard for the boy to keep any thought long enough to finish it. Even as a contemplation entered his mind, the next body-jarring collision with the unforgiving earth ripped it away, leaving the battered teenager senseless.

Where am I? —Bash!

What am I doing? —Crunch!

Master? —Wham!

Saul? —Crack!

Caleb? —Thud!

Mother? —Smack!

Was it enough? —SLAM!

Blood spewed from Musa’s gasping mouth when he struck the pristine granite wall of the palace! The sickening snap of hundreds of bones, all shattering simultaneously, filled the courtyard. Red Vigor coursed through the boy’s fragmented form, binding the broken pieces together and saving his life. Musa’s traumatized mind subconsciously pulled even more luminous threads to repair what it could. But it was not enough...

“I’m sorry,” was what Musa wanted to said. But all that came out was a gurgling grunt as the ragged and defeated boy from Tri-Star slid down the white wall and slumped motionless onto the awaiting soft grass at his feet.

Two minutes, twenty seconds earlier...

“Or...” Zachariah’s tone changed, and so did the immense weight that oppressed his paralyzed opponent. Musa’s ears popped at the sudden release of pressure. Like a loaded spring finally letting go, Musa stumbled forward. Only his firm grip on his captured kado kept him from toppling over.

Two minutes remaining...

“Or...” The General repeated, still clutching the boy’s wooden weapon, “You are the Heir, and by a method I can’t explain, you have concealed the King’s Sword from my sight. But my own eyes do not deceive me; if you say you are the successor, I will believe you. Just simply show me the sword. Otherwise, I will just end this farce now and leave you for the Table to deal with.”

One minute, thirty seconds remaining...

Musa frowned. The burden and stress of the last five years weighed heavily on his mind and soul. This was the conundrum he knew he would have to face this day. This was the obstacle Joseph had foretold. Musa knew who he was, or rather, what they expected him to be, but he could not prove it. And if he could not convince them today, he would die... and eventually, so would they.

Five minutes, Musa pondered. Master said that if I could last five minutes, they would acknowledge me without the proof they seek. So, what should I tell him? If I confess that I don’t have the sword, he will end me here and now. If I claim nothing, he will do the same. But I cannot lie...

One minute remaining...

“I...” said Musa, not through the Shade, but with his own mouth, “I... don’t know what I am. And I cannot show you what I do not have.”

The young man’s voice carried no weight. Zachariah raised a single eyebrow. This was not the answer the gray-haired warrior had expected. But that was irrelevant, because it was not the answer he wanted. The General tightened his grip on his kado.

“How... disappointing.” It was not what Zachariah said that sent a shiver down the young man’s spine, but how he said it. Within those two mere words, the General instilled a notion of finality. So, it was no surprise, nor was it with any warning, that Zachariah struck the blind boy!

The Sacer meant his attack to be quick, clean, and brutal. He had targeted the boy’s head with the perfect blend of speed, force, precision, and Reinforcement. After the unfortunate response from the mysterious child, there was no reason to prolong the trial any further. Zachariah wanted to end this charade immediately.

Such an impeccable blow would have demolished a regular man’s skull. But this was no ordinary man. He was not a man but a boy who had shrugged off a direct hit from the General’s Prima Visa. Granted, Zachariah had purposely held back when he attacked the young child with his First Form. But even then, a weakened Prima Visa from a Sacer general could render an entire army to dust. And yet, this boy had survived it and even laughed it off. Zachariah would not underestimate this lad again, so it was even more astonishing when Musa caught the General’s blade with his bare hand!

CRACK!

Thirty seconds remaining...

The impact sounded like a high-caliber gunshot! The concussion from the blow stirred up the dust around both opponents and pulverized every bone in the blind boy’s receiving hand! Musa gritted his teeth and held back the anguish that rushed through his small frame. He instantly wanted to pull green Vigor and apply it to his obliterated appendage but stopped himself. The nerve endings in his hand had already been severed, so the pain had numbed. If he were to heal them now, that agony would flare, however briefly, before the hand could heal. And that sudden pain would prevent him from what he had to do next. He could heal later; Musa had to speak now... while he had the General’s full attention... and weapon.

“I... was... not... done,” Musa said. With tortured and deliberate effort, he forced each of his crushed fingers to grip Zachariah’s kado. A few, including his pinky and ring finger, did not comply, the bones and joints no longer serving their designed purposes.

Musa swallowed hard and continued.

“As I said... before... No more rules...”

There it was again. The same inescapable feeling of immediate danger.

“Rule Number Six,” said Musa between gritted teeth. The last time Zachariah felt this danger was when this boy had first blocked his kado...

“Don’t play with fire.”

An icy chill ran through the hardened warrior of Heron. This was it! This was the danger he had felt! It radiated, not from the child, but from the pearl white kado!

“Forging... Flames,” Musa commanded under his breath.

The Sacer realized his mistake all too late. He tried to Shade Step but could not! Of course, he couldn’t, not while holding Musa’s kado and the boy holding his. It was impossible to enter the Veil when one was physically anchored to another.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

General Zachariah Abel of Heron, Champion of Thyella, had been played by this child. And something about that thought brought satisfaction to the aging warrior.

Searing pain engulfed the General’s left hand and ran up his arm! Fire as white and pure as fresh snow consumed everything it touched, vaporizing clothing, flesh, and bones!

BOOM! Out of pure survival instinct forged by centuries of ruthless combat and war, Zachariah released both swords and kicked the small teenager with such force that the very ground Musa had stood on split open, casting dust and debris in all directions! Musa’s form disappeared from where it had stood as it skipped, bounced, and rolled violently across the Trial Grounds, only to collide with brutish force against the palace wall...

10 seconds remaining...

Even before the white-haired child reached the palace, Zachariah tore off his burning robe and poured copious amounts of green, red, and purple Vigor into his burning limb! The green threads wove into his tissue, sinew, and bones, healing and mending them as fast as the unquenchable fire incinerated the newly formed flesh. The reds surged through his members, granting him the strength to remain standing and endure the mindless and unrelenting anguish. Purple lines of illumination fought to contain the unnatural flames from spreading and devouring the rest of the General’s body.

The King’s Wrath... Zachariah’s mind screamed obscenities that would never reach his lips. On the outside, the General looked calm, almost passive, as he fought to save his left arm from total annihilation. Internally, the Sacer was a whirlwind. This mind processed a thousand thoughts, trying to make sense of his current situation, all the while straining to push past the most excruciating physical pain he had felt in decades. Zachariah wanted to shriek, yell, cry, and laugh, all at the same time, but he did none of those things. Instead, he just stood there, on fire, mesmerized by the blind boy’s abandoned kado. The pearl-white sword lay harmlessly a dozen yards from where its master had once stood.

Impossib—The General caught himself from finishing the thought. At this point, why am I still surprised by anything this boy does? By the Shade, I half expect him to summon a full Phade... Now, wouldn’t that be a sight! Even Enoch wouldn’t be able to keep that from getting out... Zachariah almost cracked a smile at the thought of the trouble such an event would cause for the Overseer. Even as it stands now, everything about this child must be kept quiet.

Sweat formed above the warrior’s brow. The constant pulling and consumption of Vigor in the endless pursuit to save his arm was beginning to tax him. Zachariah cautiously held his limb out to his side and away from the rest of him. He could not afford to allow that flame to even lick another part of his body.

“General, are you okay?” whispered a voice in his head. “I’m sending the medics.” Zachariah could detect the worry in Enoch’s message. Shade Speech was not like regular verbal communication. You did not hear the words but rather felt them. And the more experienced a warrior was at it, the deeper he could sense the emotions and intent behind the words.

The Old Man is worried about me, the General pondered. Well, I’m worried about myself.

“It will do no good...” Zachariah replied through the Shade. “Enoch, you know what this flame is?”

The silence that followed Zachariah’s question seemed to last an eternity. But in truth, it was a moment before Enoch replied, a heavy note of dread in his mental tone.

“Yes,” Enoch’s voice vibrated with an unmistakable gravity. “I know what it appears to be—”

“—I can confirm it is more than just appearance.” It was not like Zachariah to interrupt his superior. Determinedly, Zachariah forced his attention back to his burning limb. With a grunt, he focused more Vigor to encase the flame, trying to suppress it. The struggle was draining; the searing pain wrestled against his disciplined mind.

However, something was troubling him. Lying dormant in a memory long past and forgotten. A conversation with his own master...

“There are only three ways to put out this flame,” Zachariah remembered what King Isaac had said. “If the wielder desires it, dies or is rendered unconscious...”

Unconscious? Zachariah pondered with dread. But... If these flames are still burning, that means... The realization struck the General just as he caught the movement in the corner of his eye.

Musa, somehow, despite his catastrophic injuries, was stirring. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. His fingers twitched, and his chest heaved in a shallow breath. The boy was still conscious.

The General quickly turned his full attention to the boy. He wanted to move towards him, but the unworldly blaze held him in place, the pain a constant reminder of the danger they posed.

Musa’s head turned slightly, a weak acknowledgment of Zachariah’s presence. His lips parted, and a raspy, almost inaudible whisper escaped them. The words were hard to distinguish, but Zachariah caught something about ‘just in time.’

“Just in time for what?” Zachariah muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, there was a flicker of movement—Musa held his hand out towards the pearl white kado that lay dormant in the dirt at the Sacer’s feet. Then, with a Herculean effort that seemed to drain the last of his strength, Musa’s fingers grasped something Zachariah could only see with Shade Sight—tendrils of green and purple stretched out and snatched the sword, pulling it free from its earthy confines and retracting the weapon back to its owner’s waiting hand!

Zero time remaining...

Eyes.

Unseeing Eyes.

Blue, Unseeing Eyes.

Like two illuminated sapphires, Musa’s blue, unseeing eyes burst into radiance!

A pulse of light, bright and pure, emanated from Musa, enveloping his kado in an ethereal glow. The light seemed to draw every thread of Vigor from the surrounding air, concentrating it in a dazzling display of power, light, and splendor!

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the light extinguished, leaving behind a heavy stillness in the air. Musa’s body relaxed, his struggles ceasing as unconsciousness finally claimed him.

In that instant, the flames on Zachariah’s arm snuffed out as if extinguished by an unseen hand. The General looked down at his now scarred but intact limb, then back at Musa, a mix of awe and deep contemplation on his face.

In the sudden calm that followed, Zachariah stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the young warrior who had defied every expectation and norm. The silence was profound, a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned just moments before.

As he watched, medics rushed onto the field, their quick, efficient movements a blur as they tended to Musa. Zachariah remained where he was, processing the events that had just unfolded. If what I believe is true, the implications of this boy’s existence could change everything.

He turned his eyes towards the palace, knowing that what had transpired here today would resonate far beyond these walls. What could happen if it got out too quickly, too soon? This was a delicate matter that needed to be handled with the utmost care and consideration... They had been wrong before... and they couldn’t let that happen again.

Zachariah’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the Shade.

“General, are you alright?” Gabriel whispered.

Zachariah nodded, his mind still partly elsewhere. “I’m fine. But Gabriel, this... this...” His voice trailed off as he glanced back at Musa, now being carefully loaded onto a stretcher.

Gabriel finished the sentiment. “I told you he was interesting, did I not?” Zachariah could almost feel the Captain’s smirk even through the Void.

“Yes,” Zachariah agreed reluctantly, a hint of a smile drew across his face. “Regretfully, I must admit, Captain, you were right... This time.” The gray-haired warrior was about to elaborate more on the unlikelihood that the Captain would ever be right again, but before he could, a small, nearly insignificant object by his foot caught his attention.

Reaching down with his good hand, Zachariah picked up the tiny green leaf that had wandered into the Trial Ground and stared at it with inquiring eyes. “Now, how did you get here?” he asked as he twirled the leaf by its stem between his thumb and forefinger. “There are no maples in the Trial Grounds.”

“Sir, you still there?” Gabriel’s tone still felt worried.

“Yes, Gabe,” the General reassured the Captain. “I was just thinking... thinking that you never truly know what the wind will blow your way.”

“Er... yes,” Gabriel said. “I guess that’s true. Sir, are you sure you’re alright? The medics are right there—”

“I said I’m fine, Gabriel,” Zachariah’s tone left no further room for rebuttal. “Send word out immediately to call the Table together.”

“Sir, General Enoch has already done so, sir.”

“Of course he has.” Zachariah’s reply was not one of irritation but rather confirmation. “Then, Gabe, you can cancel the shuttle; I’ll be staying on Heron for a while.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the Captain. “About that, sir.” Now came the irritation. “I never held the shuttle for you in the first place. I figured you would not need it.”

Zachariah restrained the impulse to Shade Step to the Captain’s location and reminded the man of his station. Instead, he simply whispered back, “Good to hear. It is about time you showed initiative. Maybe someday, even you can become a general.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gabriel said; the subtle warning was not lost on him. “I will ensure your quarters are adequately prepared for extended stay.”

“Ah, yes, Captain. And there is that initiative again.” As the General whispered, he casually looked back toward the palace, his Shade Sight pulling his attention to the very pinnacle spire of the magnificent structure.

Now... Now... Zachariah mused to himself. Now, when did you get here? The inquiry never made it to his lips, but his eyes sought out of whom he spoke. Of course, if there was anyone who could escape my attention, it would be you. The General gave a subtle nod to the figure perched on the highest point of the Great Hall. Reaching out his undefiled hand, he gave the leaf one last twirl and set it free.

The leaf did not fall. Instead, a purposeful breeze caught the green passenger and drove it across the Trial Grounds and to the palace wall. No sooner did it reach the building; it turned upward and ascended the steep granite structure. Higher and higher it climbed, relentlessly driven by the invisible wind that guided it. Soon, it passed over the roof’s edge, sailed over the slate tiles, and further up the sloped pitch. Maneuvering with precision and grace, it weaved between, through, and around the many spires that line the palace towers. It journeyed unrelentingly ever higher until it peaked triumphantly over the last and grandest pinnacle. There, the leaf slowed, and the wind, no more than a gentle draft, unleashed the helpless traveler. Only then did a tiny, feminine hand leisurely pluck the leaf from the air.

With curiosity, she examined the oddity with discerning eyes.

Then she spoke, but a single word.

“Father?”

The End of Part One: Trial of Entry.