"Spiros!" Luke looked at the familiar figure making his way through the crowd. He frowned as he saw the sorry state his friend was in.
His clothes were full of holes, singed, and stained with blood. His hair caked with dirt, blood, and what looked like the remains of an eyeball. His eyes were bloodshot and had deep black bags underneath them, as if he hadn't slept in days. Looking at the blood-covered spear he was carrying with him, Luke had a pretty good idea of what had kept him up at night.
I guess I should be happy that the medicine knocked me out for a few hours. I can't imagine I'd have slept well, or at all, if it didn't.
"That was hell," Spiros said, wearing a fake smile. Then, leaning the spear against the wall behind him, he leaned forward and hugged him.
"It was hell." Luke patted his back. A knot built up in his throat.
It sucked for me, but I'm a grown-ass man. Spiros is, what, sixteen at best. Fuck, I can't even imagine how fucked-up I'm going to be because of this now. Having to do what we just did when I was his age, it would probably have shattered me.
"Sorry." Spiros stepped back. A single tear fell down his face, which he rubbed away quickly.
"Nah, it's okay. That was … It was hell. Like you said. I'm just glad that it's over. I'm glad you made it out okay, and I'm even more glad you and I didn't see each other."
"Me, too." He sniffed, rubbing the snot out of his nose with the back of his hand.
"Ahem."
Luke heard a woman clear her throat. "Arya!" He grinned at her, trying not to wince as he took in her less than picture-perfect appearance. She didn't look quite as bad as Spiros did, but she had clearly seen better days. Then, stepping forward, he gave her a hug. Feeling her tense up, he feared he might have overstepped, but a moment later she relaxed into it.
With how often Spiros hugs me, I forgot that it isn't actually casual behavior. It is nice, though.
"Hey, Luke. You made it, huh? I had a feeling you would."
"I do inspire confidence in others, don't I?" He grinned at her. "Arya, this is Spiros. Spiros, this is Arya. We, uh, we're all in the society together." Luke scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
Arya looked at Spiros with surprise. "So, you're Spiros. I've heard a lot about you."
Luke blinked in confusion before looking over to Spiros, only to see an equally confused expression on his face as well.
"You have? And what?" he asked rapidly, looking increasingly stressed. "What have you heard?"
"You're the youngest person in the society's history to make it to the midstage. People talk about it all the time. You're kind of famous because of it."
"Oh. Yeah? I only talk to my cousins in the society, so I wouldn't really know."
"Now that you mention it, Arya, I heard about Spiros on my first day in the society, too. Ethan was singing praises about him."
"See, even Luke knows you're famous."
They grinned as the spear-wielder suddenly blushed red, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he scratched the back of his head.
"Wait." Arya suddenly leaned forward. "Is the rumor true? In the entrance exam did you really—"
"SO!" Luke interrupted her. "What do you think is going to happen next?" he asked, ignoring Spiros's sigh of relief.
That kind of gave it away, buddy. She knows you shat your pants now.
She looked at the two of them oddly. "I don't know. I really don't know what to expect anymore. This isn't anything like I imagined. I never would have thought the hero would make us fight to the death like this."
Luke cocked his head in confusion. "Why do you seem excited about that?"
"I'm not!" She visibly recoiled, adjusting the quiver of arrows on her back. "It's just that … Look, if the hero went to such lengths to get rid of the chaff—"
"The chaff?" Spiros interrupted her.
I'm with you, buddy, Luke thought.
"The note said 'beast, man, and chaos.' I've heard that before," she continued, ignoring Spiros's interruption. "It's an old adage about …" She shook her head. "Anyway, she wouldn't do what she did for no reason. All of the society's history books describe her as this kind and generous figure. An empress who ruled both fairly and justly."
"I don't get your point," Luke said.
"My point is that whatever her inheritance is, it has to justify what we had to get through to get here." Her eyes glimmered with greed. "A treasure belonging to a Hero, one open to all the mortals on the island. It has to be something of immense value. At the very least, it's something that can pave the way to Warrior. If not to Hero."
I have something that paves the way to God. Yet, I'm still here bumming around with everyone else here for what essentially amounts to scraps. C'est la vie, as they say.
"Wow." Luke tried his best to seem impressed at the prospect.
"What do you think it is, though?" Spiros asked.
"I … I don't know. It could be anything. I don't know enough about the higher stages to even begin to speculate."
"It shouldn't be long now. I think we're just waiting for everyone to come out of their rooms at this point." Luke nodded, gesturing at the walls. Like the room with the obelisk, the room they were in now was circular as well, if a lot smaller.
On seemingly random parts of the wall, entrances had opened, out of which each person had come. As they watched, another entrance opened up between two existing ones, and out of it another blue-robed cultivator walked out. Surveying the room with his sword raised, he lowered it when he realized that no one was fighting. A moment later, another blue-robed cultivator shouted at him from across the room.
"See how that path opened perfectly in the middle of those two, and now they're evenly spaced? I think every bit of wall bigger than"—Luke lifted his hands and spaced so that they were about three feet apart—"is actually a closed door. There's probably some people still sleeping in them."
Looks of understanding dawned on their faces.
"I would have figured that the freaky voice from the lava room would wake everyone up or something." Spiros ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back immediately when he realized just how icky his hair was.
"Or that they would know not to oversleep when something so important is on the line. All of you saw the letter, too, right, with the countdown?" Arya asked.
Luke shrugged his shoulder, leaning against an empty bit of wall as he settled in for what he suspected would be a rather lengthy wait. "It's possible that they're just taking their time walking down the hallway. With how it turned out last time, I wouldn't blame them for being anxious."
"We had a day," Arya deadpanned.
Luke raised his eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"He's surprised that you're so callous." Spiros grinned at her.
"I'm surprised you shat your pants. You're a little old for that, don't you think?" She glared at him.
"That's a low blow."
"That was some lowly behavior."
"All right. Enough, you two," Luke interjected.
Poor kid. No one is ever going to let him live that down. Ever. At least he's out of his funk, though.
Two hours later, everyone in the chamber was staring at a single bit of wall between two entryways, waiting in heavy silence for the last person in the trial to show up, growing more and more impatient with every second that passed.
When it did finally open, Luke was surprised to see he recognized the person who walked out.
"That's, uh … Yarn, right?" Luke asked, looking at his immaculate blue robes and perfectly combed hair. "Why does he look so together?"
"Yjarn," Arya corrected him, "and I don't know. Maybe he got lucky and was in a group where no one could challenge him."
"Is he also from the society?" Spiros whispered, his eyes tracking the bearded figure walking into the room.
"Yeah, Arya and him have some history."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Luke," Spiros said while patting him on the shoulder consolingly.
What did he just say? Luke's mouth opened and closed in shock.
"Not that kind of history." Arya looked between the pair oddly. "Don't worry about it—if anything happens, I'll take care of it."
"I have your back, too, Luke." Spiros nodded at him solemnly. "I don't know how useful I'll be against an Inner Disciple, but I'll—"
How do I turn him off?
Luke palmed his face. "It's not like that. He and Arya have bad blood."
A look of comprehension finally dawned on the boy's face.
Moments later, all the torches lighting up the room turned dim. The floor shook, and three podiums emerged from the ground in the middle of the room. The people standing near them stumbled back in shock.
The air above them shimmered, like a mirage on a hot day, before condensing into a vague apparition of a blonde-haired woman, one that became clearer and clearer until it looked like she was actually floating in the room.
"She's beautiful," Spiros muttered underneath his breath. Luke nodded slightly. She really was.
"Greetings." Her lips moved, and sound rang throughout the room, echoing from the walls instead of her lips.
She sounds like a bell. It's haunting. Luke looked at her, transfixed.
"I apologize for the pain you suffered and inflicted to get here. I did not create these trials lightly, and while the price is high, so is the value of what you seek." She gestured vaguely to the three podiums, and on each one, a miniature hologram of her appeared. One wielding a sword, another a spear, and the last a shield.
Each of the three holograms leaped into action, moving gracefully from one stance into the next, each of them in a way that felt right.
Poetry through action.
Luke stared, compelled, at the version of her swinging the sword, moving seamlessly between different forms. Each was designed for a singular purpose, but they all flowed together into an intricate dance. One that seemed as natural as a drop of rain falling from the sky, or a leaf drifting in the wind. She was tapping into a rhythm Luke didn't even know existed.
As suddenly as they started, the holograms went still, flickering away as if they were never there. Leaving Luke with a burning desire to attempt what he had just seen.
I have to do that. I need to do that. I must do that.
Unconsciously he gripped his sword and took it halfway out of his sheath before he caught himself.
What just happened? He stared at his hand, confused, not realizing he had even moved. Looking around the room, he realized that he wasn't the only one, either. The entire crowd looked like they had sunk into a trance and were just now waking up from it.
"What you just witnessed, you must do. Sword, spear, and shield. Those were the weapons I wielded in my life. These techniques, these forms—I created them, or perhaps discovered them, after centuries spent on fields of battle. They came to me in bits and pieces, through moments of revelation, insight, and epiphany." She looked around solemnly.
"To inherit my treasures, you must master these techniques to my satisfaction. All of them." She waved her hand, and a loud, mechanized whir echoed through the room.
Rapidly the room became larger, doubling, then quadrupling in size. The ceiling shimmered, displaying a fake sky above their heads. Arenas appeared on one end, racks full of wooden weapons beside them. The doors leading to their rooms all shifted to one wall. Opposite to them, cages full of all manner of beasts appeared. From the white scorpions from before to tigers, snakes, and bears.
The podiums rearranged themselves into a triangular formation, in the new center of the room. What looked like yoga mats arrayed in front of them.
Whoa.
"Only those who can master the techniques will be allowed to leave. Those who do well will have the opportunity to select a single treasure from my treasury. If you cannot learn, you will stay here as prisoners until you age and die."
What?