The searing light finally faded, and Aracnys collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Her limbs shook from the strain, her body weak and battered from the unrelenting trial. The oppressive brightness of Varis' realm lingered in her mind, but the overwhelming pressure had lifted, leaving only the faint echo of exhaustion.
She lay there for several moments, her spider legs twitching as they slowly retracted and folded behind her. Her body was sore, her skin tingling from the residual heat, but she had survived. That was all that mattered.
But even in her victory, doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind. She hadn't truly triumphed in the trial—she had merely endured. Her power, whatever it was, still felt beyond her reach, a distant whisper she couldn't quite grasp. What kind of goddess was she, if she couldn't even control the very essence of her being?
"You did well," Lyris soft voice broke through her thoughts, calm and flowing like a cool breeze after a storm. Aracny's blinked and turned her head to see the Goddess of Water standing nearby, her expression unreadable.
"Well?" Aracny's voice was hoarse, a mixture of disbelief and bitterness. "I barely survived."
Lyris tilted her head slightly, her pale blue eyes studying Aracny's carefully.
"Survival is its own form of strength," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "The light seeks to consume all that is dark, all that is weak. You found a way to endure, to adapt. That is more than most can say."
Aracny's struggled to sit up, her body protesting with every movement. "Endure, yes. But I didn't win."
Lyris stepped closer, kneeling beside her, and placed a cool hand on Aracny's shoulder. The touch sent a wave of soothing energy through her, washing away some of the tension in her muscles.
"There is more to strength than victory," Lyris said softly. "You will learn that soon enough."
Aracny's looked up at the goddess, her eyes filled with questions she didn't know how to ask. Lyris expression was calm, her face serene like the surface of a still lake. There was something comforting about her presence, something that made Aracny's feel... safe. But the weight of the unknown still hung heavily over her.
"What happens now?" Aracny's asked quietly.
Lyris stood, extending a hand to help her up. Aracny's hesitated for a moment, then took it, allowing the goddess to pull her to her feet.
"Now," Lyris said with a small smile, "you face your second trial."
Aracny's heart sank. She wasn't ready—how could she be? She had barely survived the first trial, and now she was expected to face another.
"Another trial?" she asked, her voice laced with exhaustion. "I don't even know what I'm capable of yet."
Lyris' smile didn't falter, but her eyes were filled with understanding.
"You will learn," she said. "The trial of water is not like the trial of light. It will not test your endurance or your strength. It will test your adaptability—your ability to flow with the currents of fate, rather than fight against them."
Aracnys frowned, confused. "Adaptability?"
Lyris nodded, her expression growing more serious.
"Water is not strong because it fights. It is strong because it yields, because it moves with the path set before it. In this trial, you will learn to embrace change, to find strength in the flow of life, rather than resist it."
Aracnys mind spun, trying to make sense of the goddess' words. How could yielding be a form of strength? Everything in her body screamed for control, for mastery over her power, but Lyris was telling her to do the opposite.
"Come," Lyris said, turning and gesturing for Aracnys to follow. "The trial awaits."
The surroundings shifted as Aracnys followed Lyris. The harsh light of Varis' realm faded, replaced by a soft, diffused glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The air grew cooler, the ground beneath her feet turning slick and wet. Soon, the unmistakable sound of rushing water filled the air.
They stepped into a new space—a vast, endless expanse of shimmering water, stretching as far as the eye could see. There were no boundaries, no shorelines. The sky above was an ethereal shade of blue, merging seamlessly with the water below.
Aracnys stopped at the water's edge, her eyes wide with apprehension. The surface of the water was perfectly still, its depths unfathomable. She could feel the weight of the trial pressing down on her, though she didn't understand what was expected of her.
"Do not fear the water," Lyris said softly, her voice carrying on the gentle breeze. "It will not harm you, unless you fight against it."
Aracnys frowned, glancing at the goddess. "What am I supposed to do?"
Lyris stepped forward, the water parting beneath her feet as if welcoming her touch. She turned back to Aracnys, her gaze steady and calm.
"Step into the water," she said simply.
Aracnys hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay on solid ground. But there was no turning back—she had come this far, and failure wasn't an option. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her foot sinking into the cool, clear water.
The sensation was strange—neither cold nor warm, but something in between. The water lapped gently at her ankles, and for a moment, it seemed as though nothing had changed.
Then, without warning, the ground beneath her vanished.
Aracnys gasped as she plunged into the water, her body sinking rapidly into its depths. She flailed, her arms and spider legs thrashing as she tried to swim back to the surface, but the water seemed to pull her down, deeper and deeper into the darkness below.
"Lyris!" she cried out, her voice muffled by the water.
But the goddess was nowhere to be seen. The surface above her shimmered, distant and unreachable, as the weight of the water pressed against her from all sides. Panic surged through her, her lungs burning for air as she struggled to swim upward.
But no matter how hard she fought, the water refused to yield. It pressed down on her, pulling her deeper into its embrace, until her limbs grew heavy with exhaustion. She was sinking, drowning.
This was the trial.
Aracnys' heart raced, her lungs burning as she fought to stay afloat. But the more she struggled, the more the water seemed to resist, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. Her body ached, her strength waning with every passing moment.
"Stop fighting."
The voice was soft, but clear, cutting through the panic in her mind. Aracnys eyes widened in shock—Lyris' voice, but it wasn't coming from the surface. It was inside her, resonating within her soul.
"Stop fighting," the voice repeated. "You cannot conquer the water. You must yield to it."
Aracnys gritted her teeth, her instincts screaming at her to resist, to fight for her life. But as she sank deeper into the abyss, she realized that resistance was futile. The water was all-encompassing, relentless in its pull. No amount of strength would save her.
With a desperate breath, she let go.
The moment she stopped struggling, everything changed. The pressure around her eased, the water no longer fighting against her movements. Her body relaxed, and instead of sinking, she began to float, carried by the currents rather than resisting them.
Her spider legs, once stiff and awkward, moved with the water now, their movements fluid and graceful. Aracnys blinked in surprise, her mind slowly processing the shift. The water wasn't her enemy—it was guiding her, supporting her.
"You are beginning to understand," Lyris' voice whispered, though the goddess was still nowhere to be seen.
Aracnys floated in the depths, her body weightless, her mind clear. The water cradled her like a gentle embrace, its currents carrying her further into the unknown. But this time, she wasn't afraid.
She had yielded, and in doing so, she had found peace.
The trial wasn't about fighting—it was about letting go.
As Aracnys floated in the endless depths of the water, her mind began to clear. The panic that had consumed her moments before faded, replaced by a sense of calm she hadn't known was possible. The water wasn't hostile, and now that she had stopped fighting it, she could feel its flow carrying her forward, guiding her gently.
But where was it taking her?
She drifted for what felt like an eternity, the cool currents swirling around her like a lullaby. Her spider legs, which had once felt foreign and clumsy, now moved with a strange grace, mimicking the flow of the water itself. There was something oddly comforting about it, as though the water had always been a part of her, waiting for her to realize it.
"You're learning," Lyris' voice whispered again, and this time, it seemed closer.
Aracnys opened her eyes and found herself no longer in the dark abyss. She was floating in a vast, open sea, the sky above her a brilliant shade of blue. The water shimmered like liquid glass, and in the distance, she saw an island rising from the waves—a single, small patch of land, surrounded by endless water.
"You must go there," Lyris said softly.
Aracnys hesitated for a moment. She wasn't sure how she could move in the water, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the currents began to shift. The water gently nudged her forward, carrying her toward the island.
She didn't resist. She had learned her lesson.
As Aracnys approached the island, the water gently deposited her onto the shore, her feet sinking into the soft sand. She stood there for a moment, taking in her surroundings. The island was small, barely more than a patch of land surrounded by water, but there was a sense of serenity here that she couldn't quite explain.
Lyris appeared before her, standing at the edge of the water. The goddess' form shimmered with the light of the sea, her gown flowing like the tides. She smiled at Aracnys, her expression warm and knowing.
"You have passed the trial," Lyris said simply.
Aracnys blinked, her mind still reeling from the experience. "I... I don't understand. All I did was... stop fighting."
Lyris nodded, her eyes filled with quiet wisdom. "And that is the lesson. Strength is not always about resistance. Sometimes, it is about yielding. In the flow of life, there are moments when you must allow yourself to be carried by the current, rather than fight against it. You have learned to adapt, to move with the flow. That is the true strength of water."
Aracnys looked down at her hands, still unsure of what to make of it all. She had expected the trial to be a test of her power, her ability to control the elements around her. But instead, it had been a test of her ability to let go.
"What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lyris smiled gently. "Now, you move on to your final trial. The trial of nature, with Myrika."