IMMORTAL QUEST
Chapter 15: The First Trial
The deeper they ventured into the Forbidden Temple, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air was thick with the scent of ancient stone, dust, and something else—something primal that made the hairs on the back of Scott's neck stand on end. Every footstep seemed to echo through the hollow corridors, reverberating in the silence that stretched on endlessly.
The orb, now cradled securely in Scott's hands, pulsed softly, casting faint, shimmering light on the stone walls. It felt like a living thing—alive with purpose, filled with energy, and ready to lead them into the unknown.
But what lay ahead was no longer just about the orb's power. Scott had felt the voice's warning, and he knew—whatever they were walking into, it wouldn't be easy.
"We're close," Mia said, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked ahead. Her eyes scanned the dark hallway, her usual confidence tempered by the unease that gripped the group.
"How do you know?" Derek asked, his hand on his weapon, ever the cautious one.
Mia didn't answer right away. Instead, her gaze flickered to the walls, where the ancient runes shimmered faintly in the dim light. "I feel it. We're being guided, but also... tested."
"Tested?" Malia repeated. "What do you mean?"
Scott nodded slowly, already sensing the same thing Mia had. The deeper they went, the more it felt like the temple itself was watching them—waiting for them to make a misstep.
The floor beneath them suddenly shifted. A low, ominous rumble reverberated through the air, and before anyone could react, the ground gave way, dropping out from beneath their feet.
Screams rang out as the group plunged into darkness, their bodies tumbling through the air. Scott reached out instinctively, grabbing Mia's hand as they fell together, the world spinning around them.
Then, with a sudden jolt, they hit the ground with a thud. The air was knocked from Scott's lungs as he landed hard on the cold stone floor. He groaned, pushing himself up and looking around.
"Is everyone okay?" Scott asked, his voice hoarse.
All around him, his friends groaned in pain, slowly getting to their feet. Derek was the first to rise, brushing himself off with a scowl.
"Yeah," Derek said, his voice sharp. "But where are we?"
Scott looked around. They were in a vast chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on the walls. The ground was covered in a strange, dark mist that seemed to crawl along the floor, winding in and out of the stone pillars that rose to the ceiling. The room was massive, stretching out far beyond what the light revealed.
"I think we just walked straight into our first trial," Theo said, his voice strained. He looked around warily, his usual calm demeanor now replaced by a sense of foreboding.
Scott stood, scanning the room. The mist seemed to swirl as if it were alive, creeping closer and farther away in an eerie dance. A low, echoing voice suddenly boomed, sending a shiver down Scott's spine.
"You have entered the Trial of the Mind," the voice intoned. It was the same voice from earlier—the one that had warned them of the dangers ahead. "Here, your true strength will be tested. Only those who prove their mental fortitude will survive."
The voice paused, and a deep, resonating rumble filled the chamber.
"Face your greatest fears. Only then will you be allowed to move forward."
Scott's blood ran cold as the words hit him. Fears. His greatest fears. Was this some kind of illusion, a trap designed to break them? He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the orb. He wasn't afraid. Whatever this trial threw at them, they would face it together.
A sudden gust of wind blew through the chamber, and the mist in front of them began to swirl violently. Shapes started to form within the fog—shadowy figures, indistinct at first, but slowly becoming more defined.
Scott's heart pounded as the shapes solidified into figures he knew all too well.
His father. His mother. Faces he had seen in his dreams, in memories long buried.
"No..." Scott whispered, his voice cracking.
The figures stepped forward, their eyes cold and unblinking. His mother's face, once full of warmth and love, was now a mask of sorrow and disappointment. His father stood silently, his expression unreadable.
"You failed us, Scott," his father's voice boomed, his tone harsh. "You were never supposed to be the one to lead. You were never meant to carry this burden."
"No!" Scott shouted, taking a step back. His hands shook as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. "This isn't real!"
The figures didn't respond. Instead, they moved closer, their presence oppressive, filling the room with an overwhelming sense of guilt.
"Mia," Scott said, his voice desperate. "Help me. Tell me this isn't real."
Mia stepped forward, her hand reaching for his. She placed it gently on his arm, her touch grounding him. "It's not real, Scott. This is the trial. We all have to face our fears."
The figures of his parents continued to approach, their eyes never leaving him. "You're weak, Scott. You can't save anyone. You can't even save yourself."
Scott gritted his teeth, willing himself to stand tall. He had faced so much loss already, had fought to keep moving forward despite everything that had happened. He couldn't let this illusion break him. He couldn't let his fear control him.
"This isn't real," Scott repeated, his voice firm now. "You're not real."
Suddenly, his father's figure lunged at him, his hands reaching out to grasp him. But Scott was ready. He stepped aside, his movements sharp and deliberate.
The moment the figure touched him, it vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving only the swirling mist behind.
Scott breathed heavily, his heart still racing. "It's over. I know it's not real."
But the room was still not empty.
Now, in the mist, more shapes began to form—these ones familiar, but different. They weren't the figures of his family, but something darker.
A girl. A young woman, with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was Malia—no, it wasn't. It couldn't be.
Her eyes were filled with pain, her lips trembling as she spoke. "You left me, Scott. You let me die alone."
Scott froze, his stomach churning as the pain of that moment—the night they'd been attacked—rushed back to him. Malia had been taken, had been lost, and he hadn't been able to save her.
But as the figure of Malia stepped closer, a part of him refused to give in. This was another fear—another trial. It was a manifestation of his guilt. He would not fall into it.
"No," Scott said, shaking his head. "I didn't leave you. I couldn't save you then, but I will now. I will never stop fighting for the ones I love."
And with that, the figure of Malia dissolved, leaving only the faint mist behind.
The room fell silent.
"Congratulations," the voice echoed through the chamber again, softer this time. "You have passed the first trial. The trial of the mind."
Scott exhaled slowly, relief flooding through him. The fear, the guilt, the pain—they had all been illusions, traps meant to break him. But he had stood firm.
But the trials were far from over. This was just the beginning.
"Let's move," Scott said, his voice steady. "We've got more to face."
With that, the group pressed on, leaving the misty chamber behind as they moved toward the next challenge—knowing that they had just begun to scratch the surface of the horrors and trials that awaited them.
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In this chapter, Scott faces his own deepest fears, encountering illusions of guilt and loss. The trial tests his mental resilience, and with the support of his friends, he passes. But the trials are far from over, and the journey continues.