Val awoke to the buzzing of heaters working overtime against the fervent winter. She jolted in a chair—now apparently sitting. Flesh writhed beneath her skin, leaving her helpless as intrusive bouts of twitching wracked her limbs.
“Easy, easy,” a faint voice cooed. Through tightly-knit eyelids, she caught sight of Collins’ warped expression, grimacing as if he shared her agony. “Phantom pains. Happens when one transitions back to reality. Centuries of magic, and we still can't avoid them."
"No remedies?" Val got out past gritted teeth.
"Time and time alone,” he answered, glancing behind at the rune-clock up against the wall. This is room 215, Val recognized. “It was said to be a major pain in the ass during the Third Great War. You save a person from their plight, but they remain out-of-order due to the backlash of the spell."
Val, fascinated by this new avenue of information, would've replied if not for the fuschia-pink spilling out of Williams' open eyes. His unblinking gaze had a far-off look in it, accompanied by faint signs of breathing. He appeared like he’d break if she poked him too hard.
"What's wrong with Williams?" she asked, exhaling as the last of the phantom pains faded away. "His eyes are literally bleeding pink."
Collins blinked. "Wait—you can see it? The colour?"
Val raised an eyebrow. "Can't you?"
"Yes, but..." Collins placed a hand on his chin. "Only those in the Heavenly Hue can perceive others of the same kind."
“So these colours—” she gestured poorly at the bright hue invading the grey of Williams’ irises “—aren’t just byproducts of spellcraft?
"I…” An evident struggle crossed his face. “ I shouldn't answer that. Let's wrap this up."
The overseer raised a hand, fingers forming a symbol in the air. Williams gasped like he was starved of oxygen, drowning and finally able to come up for air.
"Be calm, now. Calm. Ride it out. Breathe." Collins gave him the same greeting he offered her, helping him digest his new surroundings.
"With the both of you awake, you can now hear your verdict," the man announced. "Williams, you are deemed as a pass with a time of thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds."
Williams shook his head, fists clenched. "Our time in that nightmare of an illusion was half an hour?"
“Mind trap,” Collins corrected. “You were in a mind trap, not an illusion.”
Val sat up. “The difference being?”
"The difference doesn’t matter." The overseer glanced at her, intent on finishing his job as quickly as he could. "Efron, you are deemed as a pass, with a time of thirty-four minutes, and three seconds. Corporal Wren will lead you out as soon as she arrives. For now, sit still and, congratulations."
----------------------------------------
“This is where we part.”
The corporal’s sentiment was muted by a current of bone-biting cold, burning Val’s ears red. Led to WIPM’s snow-covered parking lot, they loitered outside one of the several coach buses filling the space. The corporal gestured to the two silvers inside, giving them a firm bob of the head. “We forge.”
“We fight,” Val answered, the national call passing for good luck among locals. Williams settled for a nod and the pair entered, a wave of warmth washing over her. It was a full house inside, a buzz of excited chatter making it quite the task to distinguish a certain voice.
“Val, is that you?”
Far down, near the end of the bus, she spotted the familiar ponytail of crimson, tiny braids. “Caro?”
Caro's head popped out within the aisle, an unmistakable grin spread across her face. “Who else?”
Val huffed a silent laugh and gave her friend a brief hug when she reached. “I knew you’d pass.”
“Right back at you.” Caro’s attention slid past Val to the standing figure behind. “And you are?”
“Williams, an acquaintance of Efron’s,” he answered.
“If we’re sticking to last names, then I’m Hayes.” Caro held a fist for him to bump. “I’m calling you Will because really, it’s a lost opportunity not to.”
“I don’t appreci—”
“What? You like the nickname?” Caro grinned at his darkening face. “Perfect! Will it is.”
His quiet sigh was lost under the hum reverberating throughout the vehicle, leaving to join a chain of buses en route to the third trial’s destination. Val's gaze slid to Caro, the corporal's earlier statement about her still somewhat worrying. I mean she looks perfectly fine. Gotta remember to ask her about it later.
“Any clue as to where we’re going?” Williams' stared at the window panes, scenery flying by in an ever-changing blur.
“Well we’re probably gonna see some combat this time around, right?” Caro crossed her arms in thought. “Plus, it’s no secret that the last part of the trials is a combination of all the Tripartite Trial testing sites within the halo. That many people require a huge amount of space.”
“We’ll see soon enough,” Val muttered, her voice mixing with the soft pitter-patter of winter’s snowfall. The talk of halos refreshed the early-grade classes in history on the rich—or devastatingly boring, as Caro would prefer to say—background of the country.
While the latest warfare lingered on as bedtime stories told to children, horrifying ones of mind and blood magic, the Second Great War brought about the largest physical change. Adopting the name of the Tidal Wave of Beasts, the war was one fought against the multitudes of aether creatures from the Divide below. In order to protect herself, Ciazel erected her three famous walls, cleaving the country into three regions.
Three halos.
Each possessed a myriad of cities, sectors and districts, almost like its own nation within a nation. In short, it was safe to say that any event that was halo-wide was bound to be on an immeasurable scale.
“Holy crap,” Caro muttered. On the lane beside their bus, a sleek vehicle zipped past them absent of sound, a sliver of space visible between it and the road. “Tell me I’m not the only one who saw that hovercar.”
“It’s a sweet ride,” Val agreed.
“I’m gonna get one of those for the both of us one day,” Caro nudged her shoulder. “Just you wait.”
Williams' disbelieving scoff rang out throughout the bus. “Sure and I’m going to buy a storage ring tomorrow.”
“Ain’t nobody talking to you Will.”
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“Pardon you, my name isn’t—”
“Will? It is now.”
“You—!”
Bickering back and forth, the immiscible pair missed a batch of streamlined cars that hovered on by. A new norm settled as they progressed into the downtown sector of Nocelle city, the most luxurious of its kind within the halo. Vehicles zoomed about in the air with uncanny uniformity at the crowns of high-rises, likely invisible lanes at play she couldn’t grasp. From down below, it was akin to metal bees buzzing by their glass beehives. On its route, the bus skirted an Auricean-style, austere stone facility and an unpleasant emotion ate at Val’s consciousness. Dad’s old guild.
Val instead focused on the narrow streets that wound through the city, shivering at the congested sidewalks. Saints, that would be a nightmare to get through.
A mage took advantage, using his magic for tricks on the walkway. Cute, little water dogs rubbed on the legs of passersby, a few stopping to drop crumpled red bills into a bucket. The hustle and bustle faded as the line of buses drove into an abandoned area. The place looked like it was evacuated last minute—bikes still locked to fences, empty lemonade stands, and backyards full of seasonal toys.
The suburbs soon gave way to bare trees and rocky hills, an intangible tenseness wafting about in the air. A wall of energy glowed from a distance and its ambiance edged into the atmosphere as they neared.
One by one, buses peeled away, parking where they saw fit. Eventually, theirs did the same as well and the driver ushered them out in haste, not even a goodbye as he drove off. Thirty participants were now left in the middle of nowhere, shivering in their socks. “If I ever get my hands on that driver…” Caro muttered, leaving the rest unsaid.
“Participants of Wyn?”
The group swivelled on their heels at the sudden voice.
A trio of conductors exited the dying forest by way of a path, the green band across their left arms making them easy to identify. They started calling names, splitting the group into three bands of ten participants and went on their way separately. Thankfully, she and Caro were paired together. And for what it was worth, so was Williams.
Snow crunched beneath Val’s boots as she followed the single file line through a well-kept trail, polar to the eerily silent steps of the conductor up front. Heads careened skywards at the sound of creaking planks, a sign made out of wooden plates dangling off a skeletal tree branch.
Thunderstone: Copper-Rung Rift, it read.
Rifts were sectioned off into rungs—levels according to the hazard within the area. Copper-rung was the lowest out of the five, yet still dangerous to typics and unbound. While the details were much needed, most were occupied, staring at the wobbling wall of energy before them. A blend of fluctuating blues and greys lined the beginnings of the grounds for the third trial, ethereal in its law-breaking nature.
When someone from their group asked about it, the conductor laughed. “It’s a weather ward. If we had you fight against frostbite, the third trial would be over before I could blink.”
“That’s reassuring,” Val said, wisps of fog coming out.
The conductor tapped his ear, a device likely hiding behind his mane of hair. “All participants ready to go? Mine are too. Alright.” He turned towards the group. “So, before we—”
“Tch.”
A participant parading near-lambent green hair clicked her tongue and waded through the ward. Sudden disbelief took hold of the crowd, cracked by the conductor’s dry chuckle as he followed her lead, the line collapsing as everyone rushed to the other side.
Val prodded at the shifting energy with a hesitant finger, surprised at the density. Filtering strength into the palm, she forced her hand through and her body trailed in rapid motion.
Fir trees full of needle-like foliage and sparse shrubby painted the rocky land. Pinecones hung from branches and a green blanket of moss blanketed a stone mound to their distant left. It was a calming scene, Val spotting a thin, trickling stream disappear into the dark soil.
That transition, she glanced behind her at the barrier. Woah.
A clap gained everyone’s attention. “Alrighty.” The conductor’s lips tilted upwards. “From this point onwards, your third trial begins. I will explain the rules only once and yes, while I am explaining it, your trial is still ongoing.”
“Couldn’t you have done it outside?” The green-haired girl kicked a stone into the surrounding forest and scrunched up her nose. “Would’ve spared us the trouble of wasting time.”
“Ah, but it wasn’t me who entered Thunderstone first, was it?”
The girl flinched, averting her eyes elsewhere.
The man’s smile broadened. “As you can all see, we are now inside a rift—a place full of danger and treasure alike. As a mage, you’re bound to step inside these boundaries once or twice to reap energy cores from the crawling beasts or to harvest a rift core. You are to do neither since you know how to do neither. Ignoring these words will result in disqualification.
“Onto the instructions,” he said, holding up a finger. “Rule number 1: I will not, cannot, and should not help you.”
He held up another finger. “Rule number 2: You are encouraged to work together, not forced. Solo work is allowed. Overseers are watching us as we speak, able to teleport you away in cases of extreme danger.”
Another finger. “Rule number 3: Should you wish to pull out, you are allowed to do so at any point in time at the risk of disqualification.”
“Get to the important parts!” the green-haired girl ordered.
His pinkie went up, smooth and unaffected. “Rule number 4: You have ten days to reach your objective or else you suffer disqualification. Also note that you cannot exit until those ten days are up, regardless of whether you’ve met the objective.”
Ten days? How long did they expect them to take to complete the goal?
At last, his thumb joined his other fingers, his palm now in the air. “Your objective is to collect fifteen points, according to our reward system. All aether creatures within the boundaries of your trial are Tier One, meaning magic isn’t necessarily required to fight them.
“To cash in your points by the time the horn sounds, you need to have on your person a part of the slain aether creatures. Measures have been put in place to ensure one cannot chop up the same aether creature and claim it as fifteen points. That’s it.”
“For saints’ sake, that's it? Really?” a participant voiced. A dark goatee sprung from his clenched jaw, blue eyes squinted in frustration. His body language seemed tense, like a coil ready to straighten. Judging by the lines creasing his face, age crept in and proportionally so did his deadline. “You’re telling me you guys are too blind to see you made the rules skewed towards those who’d rather steal than play by the rules?”
The conductor smiled. “Oh, we know. Getting points won’t be the problem, it’s keeping them.”
“What are we gonna use to even fight?” Caro asked, gaining the approval of the group expressed through verdant nods.
“Good question.” The conductor snapped. Val balked as an array of weaponry materialized before them. Swords, shields, throwing knives—name it and it’d be there. “Pick and choose your weapon. Be mindful, this is your one and only chance.” He pointed to a nearby bush, an obscured object bulging from within. “And there’s a bag over there full of medical supplies and rations.”
The green-haired participant moved first, collecting a classic wooden bow and quiver full of arrows. Pausing and glancing back at the group, she snatched up the bags full of rations on her way and dashed deep into the softwood forest. Heavens.
The gazes of the participants slid to the conductor, who shrugged.
“After her!” the bearded participant yelled, breaking the daze that held them captive. The group forged forwards as one, but a sudden rush of vertigo tided over Val.
She blinked rapidly, stunned where she stood. “Stop!”
The group sputtered to a halt, the bearded man’s blue eyes affixed on the shrinking figure of the girl.
“But our food! That thieving kid!”
“You don’t want to go in there. Trust me. What I sensed—”
A girl's yelp drew the gaze of every participant.
With wide eyes, they watched as the inconspicuous branches elongated and latched onto the green-haired girl, its jagged edges drawing blood from wherever it touched. The trees straightened, pulling her up into the thick canopy, her form, green hair and all, gone from their sight.
The plump bag of goods cracked hard against the ground and her shriek echoed throughout the forest, birds flapping away at the sudden noise. What kind of aether creature was that?
A deep sigh resounded. “She sure walked that walk, didn’t she.”
The conductor sauntered into the forest as if on a morning stroll. A shout was on the edge of Val’s tongue as the very same branches as the ones prior lashed out at him. He waved a hand nonchalantly, not breaking his stride. The boughs sagged at first as if sad they couldn’t have an extra meal. A groan-like sound then echoed and branches fell from the canopy, the girl’s captive body as well. I didn’t even see what element he used.
The conductor caught her with a stifled grunt and carried her their way, the sack of goods trailing him on top of a pool of ice. He set down the unconscious girl—her hair more red than green—and looked at them, scratching his head.
“Well." The conductor spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Thunderstone.”