"Wait… what?" I blurted out, staring in disbelief at Quetzalcóatl.
The feathered serpent god stood there, arms folded, his expression calm but unyielding. "You heard me," he repeated evenly. "You will not take the trial."
Elowen stepped forward, eyes wide with shock. "But—why? We've come all this way! You said—"
"I said that the trial was different for everyone," Quetzalcóatl interrupted, his gaze steady as he looked down at us. "And I also said it would test your soul. But I can see, clearly, that none of you will pass."
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You haven't even given us a chance," I growled. "How can you know we won't pass if you don't let us try?"
"I am the Guardian of this temple," he replied simply. "I have watched countless souls enter these sacred halls and falter. I see the same weakness in you that I saw in them. You lack the resolve, the clarity of purpose." His eyes flicked to Elowen. "You are not ready."
Elowen looked like she'd been struck, her face pale and stricken. I felt a surge of anger on her behalf—after everything we'd gone through, after all the pain and trials to get here, he was just going to turn us away?
"What if we prove ourselves?" Saphira interjected, voice sharp. "Give us a chance, any chance, to show that we're worthy."
Quetzalcóatl considered her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Very well. If you wish to prove yourselves, then I have tasks for you. Complete them, and perhaps I will reconsider."
☉☉☉
At first, it seemed straightforward. Polishing the temple stones, cleaning the massive steps leading up to the entrance, and scrubbing away the layers of dust and grime that had gathered over centuries. But Quetzalcóatl was relentless. Every time we thought we'd completed a task, he found fault with it.
"Elowen," he'd say sharply, pointing to a barely visible scuff mark on one of the temple's columns. "Do it again."
Or he'd step forward and inspect the floors Saphira and I had just finished mopping, shaking his head in disapproval. "You missed a spot. Start over."
Days blurred together. We cleaned, scrubbed, polished, hauled water, and carried heavy bundles of offerings up and down the temple's steps. Quetzalcóatl watched us with a critical eye, never offering praise or encouragement, only more work.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered one night as we collapsed into exhausted heaps at the base of the temple. "It's been days, and we haven't gotten anywhere."
"He's testing us," Saphira said quietly, wiping sweat from her brow. "Seeing how far we're willing to go."
"But this isn't the trial!" Elowen protested. "We came here to face the Trial of the Serpent, not to be glorified servants."
"And yet," a deep voice cut through the darkness, making us jump. Quetzalcóatl stepped out of the shadows, his presence looming over us. "Here you are, still serving."
I gritted my teeth. "We're doing everything you've asked of us," I snapped. "Isn't that enough?"
"Enough?" he repeated, tilting his head slightly. "There is no 'enough' when it comes to the path you are on. Do you think dedication has a limit? That if you suffer through a set number of tasks, you will be rewarded?"
"No, but—" I started, but he waved a hand dismissively.
"Then keep working," he said, turning his back on us. "Until you understand."
The next day was the worst yet. He set us to polishing the entire expanse of the main temple floor, an impossible task that would have taken a team of workers weeks to complete. By midday, I was at my breaking point. My arms ached, my knees were bruised from kneeling, and I was sick to death of scrubbing the same patch of stone over and over.
"Adrian, focus," Elowen murmured beside me. "We have to—"
But I'd had enough. With a snarl of frustration, I hurled the rag across the temple, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the empty chamber.
"This is pointless!" I shouted, standing up and marching across the room toward Quetzalcóatl, who had been silently observing us from the far corner.
"Adrian, what are you doing?" Saphira hissed, but I ignored her.
"Alright, you know what?" I said, pointing a finger at the god. "I'm sick of these games. If you think we're not worthy, then prove it."
Quetzalcóatl's gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable. "Prove it?" he repeated softly.
"Yes, prove it!" I jabbed my thumb at my chest. "I'm challenging you. A fight—one-on-one. If I win, you let Elowen take the damn trial. If I lose…" I paused, swallowing hard. "You can do whatever you want with us. Keep us here, turn us into servants forever, I don't care."
"Adrian, no!" Elowen cried, but I held up a hand to stop her.
Quetzalcóatl was silent for a long moment, studying me with those piercing, golden eyes. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips.
"Very well," he murmured. "I accept your challenge."
Before I could blink, his entire form seemed to blur and shift. His body stretched and twisted, shimmering in a cascade of feathers and scales, until the man was gone—replaced by a massive, coiling serpent that towered above us. His scales glimmered in every color of the rainbow, feathers of red, green, and gold sprouting along his back and neck like a living mantle of flame.
"Holy—" I stumbled back, staring up in shock as the Feathered Serpent reared back, its massive head hovering above me.
"Draw your weapon, Adrian Evans," Quetzalcóatl rumbled, his voice reverberating through the air. "And let us see if your resolve is as strong as your words."
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. But I couldn't back down now.
With a sharp motion, I unsheathed Draeca, the blade singing as it cut through the air. The dark steel gleamed under the temple's light, the runes along its length flickering faintly as if sensing the immense power radiating from the god-serpent before me.
"Alright," I muttered, tightening my grip on the hilt. "Let's do this."
I charged at Quetzalcóatl with all the skill and precision Chiron had drilled into me, the blade of Draeca gleaming like a crimson comet in my hand. My footwork was quick, my form perfect, every slash and parry executed with a precision I'd spent years mastering. But it didn't matter.
The feathered serpent moved like a phantom, his massive body coiling and shifting with a speed that defied logic. Every time I struck, he was already gone, slipping past my blade as if mocking my efforts. Draeca cut through empty air, the runes glowing fiercely with each swing, but not a single blow connected.
"You're so damn predictable," he taunted, his voice deep and resonant, echoing throughout the chamber. "All that training, and you still cannot touch me."
I gritted my teeth, shifting into a new stance. Quetzalcóatl reared back, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He wasn't even trying. The sheer size and power of his form should have been a disadvantage, but the serpent moved as though weightless, as if the air itself carried him along.
I spun, slashing low, hoping to catch his underbelly—only for his tail to whip around and knock my blade aside. I stumbled back, cursing under my breath. Draeca vibrated in my grip, the force of the impact reverberating up my arm.
"Too slow," Quetzalcóatl hissed, circling me like a cat toying with a mouse. "You think this crude steel will be your salvation?"
"Crude?" I snapped, glaring up at him. "Try saying that again when I split your skull open."
With a roar, I surged forward, putting everything I had into a powerful upward strike. The blade hummed, a trail of black flames in its wake as I aimed for his throat. But in the blink of an eye, he was gone—twisting to the side, his body arching gracefully above me.
Before I could react, his tail slammed into my side, sending me sprawling across the temple floor. I landed hard, the breath knocked out of me. Pain flared along my ribs, but I forced myself back up, staggering to my feet.
"You're wasting your time," he murmured, coiling high above. "There is no shame in admitting defeat. Admit you don't have what it takes!"
I spat blood onto the temple stones. "I'm not giving up."
"Oh?" He tilted his head, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that pride I hear? Or just stubbornness? You are not worth nothing, you don't have what it takes to protect those you care for."
"Just shut up," I growled. "Just stop talking, you damn pride snake."
With a furious yell, I threw myself at him again, swinging Draeca in a vicious arc. The serpent's body twisted, feathers shimmering like a river of jewels as he dodged. I shifted, adjusting mid-strike, trying to anticipate his movements.
But he was always one step ahead, always just out of reach. It was like trying to fight the wind—every time I thought I had him, he slipped away, his laughter ringing in my ears.
I roared in frustration, my strikes growing wilder. Draeca flared with every swing, the runes along its blade pulsing with a fierce, desperate light. But the serpent merely watched, his dark eyes calm and unyielding.
"You rely too much on strength," he murmured, darting to the side as I swung again. "Power alone will not win this fight."
"Oh yeah, why don't you hold still so I can hammer my sword into your head!" I snarled, breathing hard. Sweat dripped down my face, my muscles screaming in protest. I was burning mana at an alarming rate, every strike sapping more of my energy.
Quetzalcóatl's gaze softened, almost pitying. "You lack control," he said quietly. "You wield your blade like a hammer, hoping to bludgeon your way through. But true mastery requires more than brute force."
Something inside me snapped. With a shout, I poured everything I had into Draeca, flames erupting along its length. The runes blazed, casting the entire chamber in a harsh red light. I felt a surge of power course through me—fire and fury and desperation all rolled into one.
And then, without thinking, I unleashed it.
Flames roared to life around me, and I shot forward, Draeca a burning comet in my hands. Quetzalcóatl's eyes widened, and for the first time, he hesitated. I swung the blade upward, the force of it sending a shockwave through the air.
But just as the blade came within a hair's breadth of his throat, his tail lashed out, catching me across the chest. The impact knocked me off my feet, the flames sputtering out as I crashed to the ground.
"Still too slow," he murmured, his voice soft and almost sad.
I struggled to rise, gasping for breath. My entire body felt like it was on fire—every muscle screaming, every nerve alight with agony. I couldn't take much more of this. But I couldn't quit, either. Not when Elowen was counting on me.
I pushed myself up, gripping Draeca with trembling hands. Quetzalcóatl watched, his massive form coiling and uncoiling in the air above me.
"Why do you persist?" he asked quietly. "You have no hope of winning."
"Because…" I gritted out, forcing myself to stand. "Because she needs me."
He tilted his head, studying me with a strange intensity. "She?"
"Elowen," I rasped, raising Draeca again. "I promised her I'd help her take this trial. I'm not stopping until I make good on that promise."
The serpent's eyes narrowed. For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze piercing. Then, slowly, he began to lower himself to the ground, his massive form coiling around me.
"You would sacrifice yourself… for another?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
"Every time," I growled. "I would destroy the world for those I love!"
There was a long silence. Then, to my shock, the serpent's lips curled into a faint, almost wistful smile.
"Very well," he said softly. "I shall allow her to take the trial."
I blinked, stunned. "Wait… what?"
"You fought for her," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. "You fought for something greater than yourself. In that, you have shown a strength hidden deep inside."
Relief flooded through me, and I sagged, barely able to stay upright. "Thank you," I breathed.
"Do not thank me yet, little warrior," he whispered. "The true test lies ahead."