There was darkness and then an orange ocean swept through the space around him becoming all of existence. Burning hair and eyeballs exploding from his sockets were the least of the sensations before the air became too hot to breathe, so hot that his lungs sizzled as he tried to scream.
All thoughts of endurance and willpower vanished in the face of this sudden, inescapable apocalypse.
There was just a single instant of cognition, a blinding fragment of a moment where misfiring neurons hallucinated his flesh vaporising and his soul departing this realm of existence. There was light, a dissolution so pure even the memory of being wavered under its power, and then it was over.
Before he could understand what had happened, Ori collapsed in a convulsing heap beside the cold floor of the Lifewell. For long uncountable moments, Ori reassembled his consciousness piece by piece as his flesh forgot what his mind still remembered.
When the memory of the pain had dulled, Ori found the strength to cry. Emotions he had always deemed his weakest; his self-pity, his bravado, his entitlement, his defeat, were fuel for a long overdue breakdown. With a life filled with injustices, Ori had mistakenly believed the universe owed him something for simply enduring, but he had known better.
After the sorrow came the wrath, it wasn’t just that he felt what had happened had been unfair, he had expected a challenge, to be tested, to be exploited, to have a chance. Instead, what he had faced was an abject lesson.
There had been no trial, no challenge, no chance of a reward—only an instant no longer than a heartbeat, followed by fire.
Why?
[Aspirant has discovered the following catalysts:
1x [Disintegration Halide]
[Aspirant has 8 more attempts of the trial remaining.]
To his credit, the laugh was only partially crazed. The predominant feeling he experienced was one of relief—that the worst ordeal of his life had happened for a reason and that there was some semblance of, if not fairness, then at least rhyme or reason to the trial's whims.
Survival or even enduring longer than he had might have been impossible, however, when he asked the construct about rewards, a part of him had expected… something.
In those final fractions of a second, Ori had glimpsed something not entirely perceptible through his senses—more a concept than a specific sensation— it was an existential terror of somehow knowing he no longer existed, not just death followed by a slow rot, but of becoming vapour and ash, before no longer influencing or being influenced by anything again. It was that complete removal from causality that had broken him, and as a classically trained engineer, the concept of matter and energy no longer being conserved unnerved him more than it would most normal people. Still, it had been an opportunity that only his complete and utter destruction within the unique environment and rules of the trial, could grant.
After the bitter relief, Ori focused his mind. The trials tested body, mind, and soul, and he could certainly believe it after that experience.
"Was that theme about fire? Endurance? Destruction? Why? Was it random? Did I trigger that specific scenario? What could I have done differently?" Ori wondered to himself.
Ori cringed at even the thought of going through that again and he realised that something within his perception had changed preventing him from being harmed in that way again. It was like a mental blast door, and while it protected his mind, hardening it against the terror and abuse he now knew could be inflicted upon it, maybe his ability to delve into the deepest conceptual abysses of this trial was irreparably damaged.
Driven by curiosity and a determination to gain mastery over his mind, Ori spent hours attempting to recall how his mind had felt more like an open hand when compared to its current clenched fist. There were physically no muscles to relax, but breathing and visualisation managed to return his mind to that state just a moment before and during his destruction.
He relived every iota of overwhelming pain, the conceptual violence of the disintegration of self, before hardening his mind once more.
After drinking from the Lifewell, Ori teetered on the brink of madness, repeating the process eleven more times. In his later attempts, he submerged his head in the fountain, trying to reassociate that mental state with a positive, contradictory sensation to mixed success.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Still shaky, but propelled by the feeling that delving further into what had happened in the last trial was not just a form of procrastination, but masochism and with an urgency that weighed ever more upon him as the minutes passed, he stood and initiated the second trial.
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Ori found himself treading water amid an ocean.
Blue sky met a landless horizon in every direction. Adrenaline surged through his veins, his heart raced as he fought the grip of terror that stole his reason.
Unlike the first trial, he had time to appreciate the nightmare, the vastness of the ocean and that wrath of once again being deceived as though he had been twice fooled into torturing himself for the amusement of some petty god.
With the relentless sun overhead and no clues pointing him towards anything, Ori defaulted to his deep breathing exercises as his skinny body tread water amongst the salty ocean waves.
Ten breaths became a hundred and Ori's panic subsided allowing his neocortex to reassert control. With it, he realised that so far, there was no pain, he was not already dead, there were no immediate threats. He could handle this.
Still clothed in denim jeans Ori kicked off his shoes to swim more efficiently. Despite his slender build, he knew, that with wider, more relaxed strokes and an improved body position, he could expend less energy staying afloat.
He then examined his surroundings, taking note of the shallowness of the waves, the sun's blinding position high in the sky, and the calm water. Finding no sign of catalysts on the surface, Ori chanced a glance below.
The ocean depths revealed a dark, eerily still, lifeless abyss. The water became ever darker still with each passing moment below the waves until searing lungs and stinging eyes forced him back to the surface. Ori chose a direction and swam, driven less by any instinctual urges and more a bloodyminded determination to avoid diving beneath the surface. The monotony was overwhelming, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of the waves and his strokes slicing through the water.
He sensed it before he saw it: a current swirling around his feet, followed by a dark shadow surging from the watery depths. Swift and purposeful, it coiled around Ori's legs like a serpent from the abyss. Terror seized his heart as he tried to break free, but the shadow's iron grip only tightened.
Yanked forcefully under the surface, Ori plunged into the fathomless waters. The sunlight above shrank to a mere glint, leaving him enveloped in oppressive darkness. As pressure mounted around him, crushing his chest and ears, his thoughts raced—past trials, his determination to understand, and the ever-present urgency.
Contrary to Ori's hopes, there was no choice. Instead of opening himself up to the experience; fear, pressure, and rage compelled him to fight and harden his mind, confronting the mounting pressure of the deep with the concept of pressure walls.
Despite a valiant struggle, it wasn't long before vision blurred and his chest convulsed with the need to breathe water. He knew it was death, yet another failure, but in the final moments of his consciousness, he caught sight of lights—perhaps nearby catalysts tantalisingly out of reach?
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Ori found himself beside the Lifewell once again. Having drowned during the previous trial, he returned only to discover that he had not acquired any new catalysts. With two of his nine lives lost, all he had to show for his efforts was a single catalyst that he hoped was rare and auspicious enough to ensure his survival upon leaving the trials.
Reflecting on his experiences, the truth seemed clear: the trials were tailored to the individual aspirant. If they adapted based on the participant, then the aspirant's mindset could be a determining factor. In response to his fiery first trial, Ori had been contemplating immersing himself in water, which may have influenced the subsequent trial.
This realisation revealed both a lesson and the potential for an experiment. So far, Ori had been envisioning impossible tests of strength and endurance in the harshest environments imaginable. But what if he changed his mindset? Instead of visualising the challenges, could he focus on the positive outcomes, outcomes that Freya had all but practically promised?
He had to try, and after moments of figuring out what those outcomes could be and solidifying the visions in his mind, he entered the trial for the third time.
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The world around him changed, and Ori found himself staring at the most beautiful sky he had ever seen. A deep, rich and navy, bright with twinkling stars, luminous nebulae, and the feathering of aurora. Puffy, dreamlike clouds, bright as if backlit by sunlight, drifted lazily as Ori watched as if none of the last few days mattered and he wasn’t within a trial that would determine the trajectory of his life. He lay in a clearing surrounded by trees. They were oversaturated and dreamlike in their proportions while glowing pink sparks dotted the midnight garden. Whether those lights were insects, plants, or something else entirely was an open question.
Before embarking on the trial in his third attempt, Ori envisioned a future where he was free, a place as far away from the subterranean hellscape full of demons and lava as possible, somewhere he could wander unburdened by evil, surrounded by life rather than torment.
And it seemed that his experiment had borne fruit thus far. As a twenty-three-year-old Peckham native, Ori was as far removed from a life in nature and forests as one could be, but he could appreciate it all the same. Perhaps a life-based in London made his yearning more profound than most, but in this moment, Ori promised himself that if he ever escaped, strolling through woods would become a frequent pastime for his future self.
Ori basked in this feeling of freedom, despite knowing he had work to do, trials to undertake, Freya's life hanging in the balance, and a demonic prison to ultimately escape. But part of him knew that he needed this moment to feel unrestrained, whole, and unburdened as if doing so refilled some reserve of power he had been close to tapping out of.
Ori assessed himself after taking in his surroundings. He wore his clothes, but the belt that held his wands was empty. He also lacked his keys and phone. Not that he had expected to bring anything useful with him this time.
He looked around, sniffed, and listened. The fresh, earthy scent of pine filled the air, a scent forests often carried after rainfall. There wasn't much sound, only the faint rustle of leaves and insects, which told Ori that life existed and there was likely an ecosystem of animals. If there were insects, perhaps there were larger creatures that fed on them and even larger predators that fed on those creatures in turn.
While he wouldn't truly die, Ori was running out of attempts and had made little progress so far. He also didn't relish the prospect of being devoured even if he "respawned." And given that he was virtually unarmed, if every catalyst was guarded by a monster or needed killing a beast to acquire, Ori suspected he would be in for a tough time indeed.
He had taken no more than ten steps before finding something glowing in the ground.