Kael felt the jarring sensation of reality snap back into place as his body reformed. The world around him wavered like a heat haze before solidifying and he and the others found themselves standing at the edge of the Trial Grounds.
Before them lay a massive, dead battlefield.
Bones – dry and brittle – littered the cracked earth, tangled with rusted weapons and the remnants of old wars. Beyond the battlefield stood a temple, stone walls cracked and bleeding with Blight-tainted veins that glowed barely in the unnatural light.
A faint breeze rustled the air and carried the stench of decay.
Kael's eyes scanned the scene, his face a mask.
'So this is a Reach Trial,' he thought.
The sacred grounds felt heavy from the weight of all the dead. He had slightly uncovered memories of the Reach Trials in Kain's fragments—unforgiving tests of strength, will and mind, where the weak were culled and the strong emerged scarred but victorious.
"This is it," Elric said, breaking the silence. His voice was forced as he stepped forward, his polished armor glinting in the light. "Stay together. Don't be stupid. The temple seems to be our destination for now."
Elric made them all introduce themselves before he led them forward.
Kael watched the group as they moved. He fell back a few paces and walked behind them, his pace slow, his face as blank as ever.
Eldon and Marek—the two cowards from earlier—huddled together, their eyes flicking towards every shadow. Darren, the scarred man, wore a scowl but Kael could see the tension in his shoulders.
He was scared, just like the rest of them.
Jarek, the scavenger, hung back near the rear, his jerky movements making him look like a rat searching for trouble. Lina, the youngest of the group, clutched her makeshift bow tightly, her hard face barely hiding her inexperience.
Only two stood out to Kael as worth anything. Elric, though arrogant, moved with purpose. There was substance behind his bluster and Kael could see why the others followed him.
Talia, on the other hand, was quiet but watchful, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. Unlike the others she didn't look scared—just cautious.
Weaknesses clouded most of them. Some won't last.
The group reached the temple entrance. The massive double doors were carved with ancient runes, their meaning long forgotten. The air became heavier as they approached, the weight of the grounds pressing on their shoulders.
Elric reached for the door but paused and turned back to the group. "Be prepared for anything. The Trial adapts to us. It knows our weaknesses, our fears. If we fail it will consume us."
Kael said nothing, his eyes on the door. The Trial itself only him slightly —it was the fact that he would need to rely on this group that was the problem.
As the doors creaked open a musty, stagnant air rushed out. The temple interior was dark, except for the faint glow of Blight-tainted veins on the walls. The group paused but Elric moved forward, gesturing for the others to follow.
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their footsteps. The floor was rough, covered in debris and broken stone. Kael's hand tightened on Ather'valis as he looked around. The bones outside had been creepy—here they felt alive, too alive for the bones of the dead.
A sound drifted from deeper in the temple.
Kael stopped, his head cocked to one side as he listened. It was a voice—a low, incoherent mumble on the stale air.
"Do you hear that?" Lina whispered.
"Shh," Elric whispered aswell, drawing his sword. The group huddled together, their fear obvious.
Kael moved with them, his steps slow and careful. The voice grew louder as they walked, the words still unclear but full of panic.
They turned a corner and the corridor opened up into a large hall.
They moved deeper into the temple, their footsteps faint on the cracked stone floor. Light filtered through holes in the ceiling, casting beams on the walls covered in faded murals.
These depicted battles between gods and mortals long past, the colors once bright now dull with age. The air was thick with Blight and Kael had to fight the urge to gag.
Kael walked at the back of the group, his hand resting on the hilt of Ather'valis. His eyes flicked between the broken artwork and the others, watching both. The murals looked eerily familiar.
The group was silent as they entered the large room at the center of the temple. In the middle of the room stood a disheveled man pacing in front of a defaced altar.
He was wearing tattered robes, the original color long since obscured by dirt and age. His hair was a mess and his movements were wild as if he was being held back by a thousand invisible chains.
His voice was hoarse and echoed off the walls as he mumbled nonsense.
"Who?" Darren started to say but Kael cut him off with a glare.
The man's words grew louder, his voice breaking with fear and madness.
"They watch… they judge… they take…" he whispered, rocking back and forth. "The other knows… they all know…"
Kael's eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. Something was off—wrong.
The group was silent as the man stopped talking. The silence was heavy and oppressive as he slowly turned his head to look at them. His eyes were empty, glowing with a sickly green light.