Bora Bora stood with his feet spread wide apart, staring down at his hands. There was strange energy coursing through his body, and now that he was aware of it, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. It was like a fiery heat, burning so warmly in his chest that it was almost uncomfortable like there was fire pulsing through his veins. His eyes, ears, and nose seemed to be working in overdrive as well, bringing sharper sounds, scents, and sights to his attention. He could hear the faint thumping of Khanmara’s heart, depsite the fact that she was nearly fifteen feet away.

“My senses have been strengthened,” he said, glancing up at her. “How is this?”

“Your senses are stronger because of your draconic essense,” She explained patiently. She took a full step towards him, then another. “I think this is adequate.”

“What’s adequate?” He asked, then let out a yell of pain. Something, or rather two somethings, had stabbed him in the shoulder blades. It was excruciating, and he fell to one knee. He seemed to fall a little slower than normal, and he felt strangely off balance. There was a weight on his back that hadn’t been there before, and he could see the tattered black wings of whatever creature it was in the corner of his eyes. He whirled around, calling the scythe to his hand, but there was nothing there.

He thrust a hand over his shoulder to snatch the creature but encountered only his own back. Was it immaterial? But then he encountered a soft, warm, leathery substance. Its wings! He seized hold of one and wrenched. A shaft of pain tore through his body, and he stumbled to his knees again. Khanmara let out a laugh at his action, and he turned to face her again, noting that the simple movement was slower. She was grinning widely at him, her mouth full of those wickedly sharp teeth, and her eyes were alight with excitement.

“Pull them in,” she managed to say between roars of laughter. “You look like a cub, spinning in place.”

“Pull them in?” He repeated, dumbfounded. “What are you-.”

Then the realization hit him, with a shock strong enough to stun. The wings didn’t belong to some small creature that was attacking him. They were attached directly to his body! At the thought, he tried to flare one out. It stretched to its full length, the tendons stretched and the extra limb easily reaching eight feet to the side. He flared out the other and immediately staggered as they caught the light breeze through the treetops. Woah now, he thought to himself. That’s inconvenient.

“I said to pull them in, idiot,” Khanmara said with another snort of laughter. “This is better than I could have hoped for.”

At her words and a mere thought, the wings retracted completely. Instead of lying tucked flat against his back, however, they disappeared completely. His balance was back to normal. “What in the-.”

“It is an ancient school of magic,” Khanmara said, stepping closer. “Very few were capable, but I knew you would be capable of handling it.”

“Magic?” He asked, turning on the spot as if he could see where the wings had gone. “What kind of magic? I’ve never seen anything of the like.”

“Well,” Khanmara said, gripping his shoulders firmly to hold him in place, “That would be because the last human to be given an Aspect died nearly three hundred years ago. Weak mortals cannot gain an aspect without considerable training. Even less could receive the Aspect of an ancient dragon such as myself.”

Still holding him tightly, Khanmara rolled her shoulders slightly, and a great pair of wings erupted from her back. They were beautiful to behold, he thought, and he relaxed completely. They were a bright golden, with little veins of rainbow light that reached to the tips. They were also feathered, not scaled or leathery, as was the case with nearly all dragons. Before his very eyes, they stretched out to their fullest length, about three yards on either side. Then, with a powerful downward thrust, Khanmara lifted the both of them upward into the air. In less time than he could blink, they were a hundred feet in the air, and he felt his body tense up again.

“An Aspect is the cultivation of our draconic bloodline fused with a mortal’s appearance,” Khanmara said patiently. “It contains the great power of our breath and wings, and the resilience of our scales, but allows us to assume the form of humans, elves, and dwarves without arousing suspicion.”

“How can I bear it without being destroyed?” He asked. “Has anyone survived receiving your Aspect?”

“I have never given my Aspect,” Khanmara said. “As I never could find a mate, whether mortal or dragon, that was worthy of me.”

That revelation was enough to stop him squirming, and he glanced up at her, to see her eyes burning more brightly than ever. Then, without warning, she spun in the air and threw him away from her. He flew several meters through the air, then gravity took control of him, and he began to fall. Just as with the fall from Tiamat’s back, he was certain that the fall would be lethal. He would smash his body against the soft earth, which from this height would be like the hardest steel. Then, a mere three or four feet above the treetops, instinct took over, and he turned to face the ground, feeling his wings reappear in time to catch him. The tip of one tree smacked him in the face, blinding him, but then he felt himself rising once more.

He shot up through the air with ease, slicing through the air like an arrow as he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind whipping across his face. After a few seconds, he opened them and came to a halt. The ground was very far away from him now. He could see the entirety of the forest under him and even make out a faint sign of the mountain where he’d tried and failed to kill Tiamat. It seemed so small from his point of view now. Was this how dragons felt, ruling the skies unchallenged and viewing every other form of life as an insect? It all felt so beneath him now that he was so high up.

“It is an addicting feeling, I know.” He spun around to see Khanmara behind him. He hadn’t noticed her following him. “You can’t help but feel mighty when you see the world from this point of view.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, though he’d never agreed with any sentiment more. He turned in a slow circle as he surveyed the landscape. Milagre was in that direction, he thought. Not that he’d ever return. If he tried to enter the city again, the King would send men after him, men that Bora Bora would kill. That could very well lead him down the path that resulted in the scene he’d dreamt of. Even now, he could feel a sharp pain in his chest, as if the Wanderer’s knife had just pierced him. He’d be content in the wilds after he took care of Tiamat.

Khanmara was still watching him as if she were aware of exactly what was going through his mind. “You must return.”

“What?” He asked, turning to face her. “But I’ve been banished. If I get into a fight with the King’s men-.”

She cut him off. “It is of the utmost importance that you return to the capital. Do not go through the gate. Fly directly to the temple, and do not leave until it is time.”

“Time for what?” He asked, completely confused. “What is going on, Khanmara?”

“You will know when it comes,” she said, her face grave. “Go, my lord. Now!”

The strange method of address, combined with the shouted last word, spurred him into action. Before he knew what he was doing, he had rocketed off in the direction of Milagre, his new wings beating powerfully as the country flashed by underneath him. Stay in the temple, he thought to himself. Khanmara could see something coming. Something so drastic that she couldn’t speak of it. What had she seen? There was something about her last expression that sent a thrill of foreboding throughout his body. A tad nervously, he increased his pace. He had to reach Milagre as soon as possible.

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Many thousands of miles to the far southeast, Samuel felt a strange chill go through the air and shivered slightly. That put a frown on his face. The climate was quite warm, and he didn’t know what could have caused that strange shiver down his spine. He shook himself aggressively. Very strange. He put it to the back of his mind for future consideration and returned his attention to the situation he found himself in.

The tall arch stood before him, unmoving, and he fixed his eyes on the words inscribed on the top again. Test yourself. So this was how he’d be judged. It wasn’t as if he were new or even averse to tests. His life had been full of challenges, after all, and he’d cleared each one with proverbial ease. He was confident that he could handle himself in a crisis, no matter what came his way. No, the thing that was giving him so much hesitation was how little he’d prepared. In every other great challenge, he’d done his research, and come up with a plan. He had no idea what would face him as he made his way up this mountain.

Well, there was no point in dragging out the inevitable, he told himself. With a deep breath, he strode forward toward the arch. The mountain was eerily quiet as if all life on it was holding their collective breath, waiting to see what would become of him. The moment he crossed under the arch, he felt a surge of energy come over his body. He had a distinct impression that he was being scanned. He could exit and climb the mountain another way, of course, but this trek had the sense of destiny about it. Better not to disrespect the challenge by slipping past it entirely.

For the first thirty minutes, his trek up the face of the mountain was uneventful. The sounds of nature among the slanted trees were unending, bringing constant creaks, chirps, and squeaks to his attention. It reminded him of his travel across Zaban, albeit with a much more challenging upward climb. This mountain was nearly the same height as the one in which Arcana had been enclosed. What was it about powerful, ancient wise people that made mountains so appealing for a hiding place? He laughed quietly to himself at the thought. Then something in his environment changed, and he immediately cast his mana screen out a little wider.

It encountered a human figure almost at once. They were waiting for him just around the corner of the track, where there was more level ground. They had the unmistakable air of someone prepared for a fight. There was no way to avoid them without leaving the path so, with a quiet sigh, Samuel continued along until the figure came into view. He was wearing white robes nearly identical to the set that Reito had worn, and he was holding a longsword. Exactly like mine, Samuel thought. He had an inkling of what this would entail now.

“Welcome to Mount Kodan,” the stranger said, once Samuel was within easy speaking distance. “My master sends his greetings, and wishes the Mother’s favor upon you.”

“Please return my thanks,” Samuel said, his tone perfectly friendly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you?”

“I am your first test,” the warrior said, confirming Samuel’s earlier prediction. “My master has arranged three trials for you. To gain entry to his home, you must pass all three. Should you attempt to ignore me, my brothers and sisters have been instructed to treat you as an unwanted guest.”

Samuel’s eyebrows shot up at that. The tone was perfectly friendly, but even the densest idiot couldn’t ignore the chilling effect of the words. A settlement full of expert warriors was not a threat to be considered idly. But Samuel knew he had nothing to fear, as he had not only expected the answer but was perfectly willing to go along with it. He’d rather be on good terms with the legendary wise man than be his enemy. He nodded his understanding and dropped into a deep bow. The stranger seemed strangely relieved that he had accepted, and returned the bow.

“This shall be the first deadly challenge,” he said. “This is the trial of the Body. To pass, you must defeat me in single combat.”

Samuel thrust his closed left fist into the air beside him, and a sheathed blade appeared there. “But of course. I accept your challenge.” The crystalline blade, a light-blue in color, glinted as it caught the light of the waning evening sun, adding yet another sparkle to the flare of light that came from the long line of inscribed runes along the spine. His mana coated the blade entirely, soaking through and lapping around it like liquid. He gave the blade an experimental few swings. “Ready when you are.”

The warrior nodded and drew his own weapon. It too bore runes along the spine, though Samuel noticed the lack of complexity to the symbols, and they had no magical effect to them. Rather, the magic that he next sensed came from the man himself as he spread his feet wide, holding the blade at an odd downward angle. It was nearly identical to the form that Tobito assumed whenever he used a single long blade. Now he knew where he, or rather his father, had learned it. Remembering Shigeru and Tobi’s physical might now, he was certain that this would be the most challenging fight he’d taken on in many years.

In the blink of an eye, the man lunged forward, swinging his blade in an upward slash. He made no move to lighten his strike or pull the force. It was a lethal blow from start to finish and could have cleaved Samuel from hip to shoulder had he not parried it aside with his weapon. Sparks flew as the two blades rang with an ear-splitting shriiing, and Samuel held his ground. He immediately brought his blade back around in a forehand cut, forcing his opponent to step back hurriedly, then shifted his weight forward and went on the attack.

The one advantage he had in this fight was that his style of fighting was his own, and likely unknown to this master. He danced forward, backward, and sideways as he attacked, his own blade a flicker of light as he thrust and cut. His opponent gave ground an inch or two at a time, deflecting and dodging each of Samuel’s attacks with patience. Samuel had driven him back to his starting position before he made a slight mistake in his footing and had to quickly parry the retaliatory attack mere centimeters from his face.

In his two steps back, the warrior managed to cut three times, each missing him by a hair’s breadth as he retreated. Then he blocked the fourth with a loud clang. So far, neither of them had used their individual magicks, but Samuel sensed his opponent’s ki flaring to life as he tilted his body sideways and lashed out with a high kick for his face. He coated his free hand in mana to block it, then sent a shock through the man’s body in the instant before they separated. The warrior jerked away with a grunt of pain but returned to the offensive at once.

White energy coated the steel blade like fire, and the warrior thrust it forward. Samuel parried it with ease, but it had been a feint, and the energy exploded off the blade in a powerful shockwave. The majority of it was absorbed by Samuel’s quick use of a Barrier spell, and he seized hold of the remnants of the mana, sending it through his arm and into his blade as he struck downward. His opponent jumped back out of reach, but a tiny arc of electricity had traveled along the edge of his blade, growing in strength and leaping off the point towards his foe. It missed, as the warrior rolled to the side.

Without regaining his feet, the warrior swung both legs in a wide circle, releasing yet another shockwave of white energy. This Samuel countered with a quick muttered word, and the warrior was blown backward about five or six feet before rolling back into a fighting position. Samuel was already within reach, giving him no time to recover his poise, the crystalline blade flashing once more as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. The fight was over in less than a minute.

The warrior flicked one knee up in an attempt to disrupt Samuel’s momentum, but the mage was too fast. He knocked the attack away with his free hand, and then lifted it, palm outward, and released a shockwave of his own. It was just enough to stagger his opponent, and in that tiny window, his blade slid between hilt and wrist, and with a powerful flick, he disarmed the man. Before he could make another move, Samuel put the point of his sword at the man’s throat, stopping it just centimeters away from contact.

“Do you surrender?” He asked, his voice quiet and firm. He could see his own eyes reflected in those of the warrior, glowing faintly with their violet light. “I can continue if you wish.”

“No,” The warrior said quickly. “That’s more than enough. You are quite a formidable fighter. I surrender.”

Samuel withdrew the blade and sheathed it, then released his grip on it. It faded away from sight once again, and he stooped into a respectful bow. “Thank you for the match. Is there anything else to this trial?”

“No,” the warrior said again. He looked a little shaken as if events hadn’t proceeded quite as he’d expected. Samuel gave this no thought. If they’d underestimated him, that was their problem. “You have passed the Trial of the Body.”

“Trial of the Mind is next, then?”

“Yes.”

Samuel nodded his understanding, and stepped past his defeated opponent without another word, continuing on his way up the mountain. He had a good idea as to what the Trial of the Mind would be. He was pragmatic enough to recognize that he was an exceptionally skilled master of the arcane arts, so this challenge did not give him much pause. No, it was the third trial that he was thinking of. Based on this pattern, it would likely be a Trial of the Soul. He knew no spiritual magicks and wasn’t certain how he’d be expected to succeed.