The chamber roars with oppressive heat, the air shimmering like waves over hot sand.
I stand before the weight, its runed surface glowing faintly, each symbol alive with radiant heat. The chains suspending it hum with a low, menacing vibration. Above the door on the far side, three circles of pale light glimmer faintly, waiting to come alive.
Binah moves in the periphery of my vision. She begins slowly, her arms sweeping through the air, feet pivoting with deliberate precision. The rhythm is familiar now—Ath'rihn, the Breath of the Horizon. Her form is perfect, each step flowing seamlessly into the next. It is maddening how serene she seems while I prepare to push this thing.
Her movements tug at something deep inside me. My mother's voice whispers in my mind, a fragment of memory: The rhythm is already inside you, Janus. The words stir something both comforting and painful. But there is no time to dwell.
I force my attention back to the weight. The chains rattle ominously as I place my hands against the scorching surface. My palms scream in protest, the heat biting into my flesh. The first circle above the door flares to life as the weight reacts, shifting slightly in its suspension. The hum deepens, and the chains creak.
The trial begins.
The weight resists like a living thing, every inch a battle. My muscles strain, the heat leeching every ounce of strength from me. Sweat beads on my forehead, only to evaporate instantly in the furnace-like air. The ground beneath my boots feels molten, threatening to give way.
Binah's movements continue in the background, her arms slicing through the air like whispers of wind. The juxtaposition is stark: her calm, fluid grace against my frantic, desperate fight.
I plant my feet, digging into the stone, and push harder. The weight inches forward, and the first light above the door glows brighter. A hiss escapes my lips as the heat intensifies, licking at my exposed skin. The weight feels heavier now, as if it's growing denser with each push. My lungs ache, every breath searing my throat.
The grinding of the chains fills the chamber, drowning out even the roar of the heat. My vision blurs, the edges of the room flickering like a mirage. The weight moves another inch, the light above flaring in response.
But it is not enough.
I lose my footing. The weight slams down with a deafening crash, sending vibrations through the chamber that rattle my teeth. The door groans shut, and the first light dims, leaving behind a faint, mocking outline of my name.
I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. My hands throb, the skin blistered and raw. My body screams for relief, but the trial is not over. The weight rises smoothly back into place, the chains resetting with an almost mocking efficiency.
Binah pauses in her practice, her violet eyes flicking toward me. Her expression is unreadable, but the faintest tilt of her head suggests… expectation. Not pity. Not concern. Something sharper.
I force myself upright, my legs trembling beneath me. The heat presses against me, stifling and unrelenting. My chest heaves as I glare at the weight, its surface now flickering with faint tongues of flame.
"Again," I mutter through gritted teeth. The word feels like a curse and a prayer.
The second circle above the door begins to glow, this one a vibrant yellow. The weight hums louder, the runes on its surface flickering like fireflies. The air shifts, crackling with static. Lightning.
The first arc lashes out without warning, striking the chains above the weight. The discharge dances down the metal, illuminating the chamber in brief, blinding flashes. I clench my teeth and grip the weight again, forcing my body into position.
The second light pulses as I push. The lightning is relentless, each strike sending shockwaves through the air and into my body. My arms tremble, my vision narrowing to a tunnel as the heat and electricity combine into a single, overwhelming force.
Binah resumes her practice. Her arms sweep in arcs that mimic the bolts of lightning, her steps fluid yet precise. It is as if she is mirroring the chaos of the chamber, finding harmony within it. The sight stirs something in me, a faint echo of my mother's teachings.
"Feel it, Janus," her voice whispers in my mind. "The rhythm is already inside you."
I focus on the weight, on the rhythm of the trial. Each push becomes a beat, each bolt of lightning a counterpoint. I fall into the cadence, my breaths syncing with the hum of the weight. For a moment, it feels manageable—almost graceful.
The trial escalates. The lightning strikes grow faster, closer, each one searing through my muscles like a blade. The weight feels impossibly heavy now, the runes blazing with a heat that burns my palms. My legs buckle, but I catch myself, my mind clawing for any scrap of resolve.
Binah's movements shift. She flows seamlessly from one sequence of Ath'rihn to the next, her form embodying the Flame of Renewal. Her spirals mirror the chaos around her, yet she remains unscathed, untouched by the lightning's fury.
I am not so fortunate.
A bolt strikes the weight itself, the force traveling through my arms and into my chest. I cry out, the sound lost in the cacophony. My grip falters, and the weight slams into the ground once more.
The second circle dims, leaving another faint outline of my name. Failure.
I collapse to the floor, my body broken and trembling. My vision swims, the chamber spinning around me in a haze of heat and pain.
Binah stops her practice, her violet eyes meeting mine. There is no judgment in her gaze, only the quiet intensity that infuriates me more than words ever could.
"Again," I whisper, my voice hoarse and raw. The word feels like both defiance and surrender.
The chains rattle as the trial resets, the lights above the door flickering in anticipation. The heat presses against me, suffocating and relentless.
I plant my hands on the weight once more, ignoring the searing pain. The second light glows, and the trial begins anew.