Survivor's Curse
Chapter 2: The Wolf's Trial
Kalen's breath was ragged, his heart pulsating in his chest as he slowly advanced toward the wolf. Blood oozed from the creature's nose, a sickenly black ooze that dripped onto the cold floor. Illuminating the room were the embers in its eyes which were sightless.
The beast's head hung low still trying to sniff the air through its mutilated nose. Its teeth were bared, canines high as they scoured all over for their prey. Kalen noticed that its movements were slower, sluggish even. Its sense of smell was still active albeit partially.
"It wasn't good enough," Kalen muttered under his breath. His hands still gripping onto the blood-soaked sword staring at the beast as it lunged, with its maw ripped open to crush its prey.
But this time, Kalen was ready.
He shifted his weight just enough, dodging the beast's deciding strike just by a few inches. The wolf's mouth snapped close on thin air, and Kalen's sword came down in a sharp arc, missing the wolf's body but grazing its throat. It wallowed in pain, recoiling violently but it was still alive and deadly.
Blood poured from the wound but the wolf relented. It was focused on him only, tracking him by scent. Kalen backed away with his legs shaking from exhaustion but his grip on the sword didn't loosen instead it grew tighter. His eyes never left the creature no matter how tired he was.
Its head hung low again as it stalked forward, nostrils flaring out to seek out its prey. Once grasped he lunged again towards Kalen But this time Kalen had been calculating this moment.
Kalen darted to the side, rolling on his back before jolting back up, sword in hand. His feet pushed against the stone to spring back to his feet with practiced swiftness. He waited in account for the right moment. The wolf had locked itself in Kalen's position. Nostrils flared with each desperate breath.
In a burst of instinctive rage and hunger, the wolf lunged one final time, faster than Kalen had even expected. But this time, he didn't run...he stepped aside narrowly avoiding the beast's maw.
In the same instance, an opening had presented itself. He thrust the sword forward aiming for the wolf's throat, aiming for a blind spot it couldn't track; the space where the head meets the shoulders. This time it was a guaranteed hit. The sword was driven into the soft flesh just beneath the wolf's jaw.
The beast jerked back violently, its breath turning into a once proud raspy scream as it staggered back, blood spilling from the gruesome wound. It faltered, collapsing onto the stone floor with a deafening thud, with the last embers of its life fading away.
Kalen stood over the wolf's body. His chest heaved heavily as he felt the adrenaline fade leaving him with a feeling of emptiness. He had won but not without a cost.
Kalen still breathing erratically, wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. He looked back towards the door that had shut him in, feigning innocence. Looking down at the black pool of blood surrounding the wolf. Kalen allowed himself to relish in the victory. He was alive. He had survived and won.
Falling to the ground and unable to catch his breath, the labyrinth spoke:
"Ah…little pawn. You endure. You bleed. You survive. For now…"
The sound had echoed in every corner, walls pulsing as the voice resounded through them.
Kalen was still trembling from the adrenaline and victory, wiping the blood on his worn and tattered tunic.
His eyes narrowed.
He had expected mockery but not this. Victory felt hollow now that it had been tainted by the labyrinth's unassuming tone.
Once again the labyrinth spoke:
"You've fought bravely, but you are still a mere piece in this endless game. So, to celebrate your triumph… I shall grant you a gift."
Kalen's eyes widened. A gift? Was this some sort of joke? He held tight to the sword's hilt, but he didn't lower it. Not when he didn't know what was going to happen next.
"I shall grant you the power of Voidweaving. The ability to manipulate the fabric of space itself. With this power, you shall have to carve your way forward, bending reality to your will. Or be devoured by it.
Kalen's body screamed at him to move. But he was frozen, held down by the entity known as the labyrinth.
'Voidweaving' the word crept into Kalen's ear rooting deep in his mind. "The power to carve your way forward….or to be devoured by it"
Something burned deep in his soul. Kalen gasped and staggered, It felt as if space had been cracked open around him.
Was this a gift or a curse?
A sly smile found itself on Kalen's face.
'Fine, I'll use this same power to kill you.'
The air trembled. The walls shuddered. It was as if the space was curling inwardly pressing toward Kalen's skin like unseen hands.
"You amuse me, Forsaken."
Kalen stiffened. "Forsaken?" His breath still ragged, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"No. His voice was hoarse and firm. I have a name it's-
"Ah…no, not Forsaken. Bloodmarked. Yes, that suits you better.."
The voice coiled around as if it was temporarily releasing him from its serpentine hold. The black blood of the wolf had already begun to vanish, seeping into the obsidian stone as if it had never been there. The only proof of the battle was his aching muscles and the cold iron grip of the sword that weighed at his hip.
"And now, Bloodmarked, your trial ends."
The floor beneath him pulsed with light an unnatural light spawning that slithered up to his legs like chains made of raw, pure magic. Kalen's body tensed as he felt the weight of the chains dragging him.
"Wait! He took a shaky step forward, resisting the pull. There's no town here! No people! Where are you even sending me?"
"Does it matter?"
The voice was neither cruel nor kind. Simply unmoving.
The sigils beneath him expanded, unraveling like some part of a network. It felt as if space itself was being torn apart. He wasn't simply being thrown out - he was being cast out into the unknown.
"Explore the Dark Hollows, the Tundra, the Desert, the Forgotten Plains, and the Deepforest. There, you can find the answer you so desire. Or perhaps…..
The voice curled around him as if leaning in to whisper at the back of his skull
"...you will only lose yourself further."
The light surged, swallowing him whole. His body twisted, weightless as if he had been sent to the abyss with no end. The last thing he saw was the labyrinth's cold unmoving walls. The last thing he heard:
"Farewell, Bloodmarked. Do try not to disappoint me."
And then, the world shattered.
***
Darkness greeted Kalen as his senses slowly returned. His limbs aching, his mind felt sluggish and the cold bite of air flowing down his back. The stone pressed against his back, rough, uneven and the scent of damp earth filled his nostrils.
He groaned forcing his eyes to open.
A towering gate loomed over before him, its iron bars twisting like skeletal fingers reaching skyward. Beyond those gates lay shadows and flickering lanterns that stretched into the distance. The Dark Hollow.
The place that goddamn labyrinth had sent him.
Karen noticed a presence looming nearby.
Kalen turned his head as he locked eyes with a person. A guard.
Standing by the gates lay a man clad in dark, patched armor, a fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. His helmet was worn and dented, with the visor open. Revealing eyes that seemed sharp and scrutinizing.
Kalen pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. He could feel the guard monitoring every inch of him. The lingering bloodstains on his tunic, the black blood that remained on him from his dire battle with the horrid wolf.
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then the guard spoke. His voice was gruff, unreadable.
"..You look half-dead, stranger."
Kalen exhaled, stabilizing himself. "Felt worse."
The guard didn't react. He simply studied him for a moment that felt like an eternity.
"The Dark Hollows don't welcome the weak," the guard finally muttered. "And it certainly doesn't suffer the foolish."
He gestured toward the gates.
"If you want to step through, you best have a purpose."
Kalen wiped a hand over his face. Purpose? He had none. This was for his survival. For there to be a tomorrow for him. No longer Forsaken.
He tightened his grip on the sword and took that step.
The gates groaned open as they swallowed him whole into the Dark Hollows.
Before Kalen could step through, the guard's hand shot out, grabbing his arm for a brief moment. He held up a pouch of coins.
"Consider this a compulsory fee for those who survive the labyrinth," the guard said. "Ten Hollow Marks. You've earned it by making it this far."
As Kalen stepped through, a whiff of scents overloaded his nose. Smells that contained the smell of damp stone, burning tallow, and even blood and decay. The streets were uneven, carved with cobblestone, twisting making it impossible to see ahead. The narrow buildings mostly devoid of light, allowed shadows to loom.
The people of Dark Hollow were just as worn as their city. They moved like phantoms, with their ragged cloaks and their faces covered by a hood; if they even had one. Some walked with purpose, others walked with paranoia. Survival was the rule here, not kindness. Half-measures would just let him end up dead in this cruel world that contained the Dark Hollows.
Here, one did not ask too many questions.
***
Kalen found himself in what would be called the heart of Dark Hollow- a marketplace beneath dark sheets so thick that only fragments of moonlight peeked their way inside. The air was choked with the smell of spices and the like. Kalen noticed a butcher hacking away at the remains of what seemed to be a monster he didn't recognize. Some of the slabs twitched unnervingly as if refusing to die.
Kalen had to find a place to rest. Even for a minute. He had been fighting for his life without rest, so his energy was at an all-time low.
'The Silver Lantern'
'Hopefully, I can try and ask for a place to sleep. Anywhere will do really.'
Kalen pushed open the heavy wooden door of the inn, its hinges groaning reminding him of a dying beast. As he stepped inside, it seemed that the outside had faded. Not comparing to the labyrinth. He felt a warmth that he didn't feel outside, but not by much. A low fire cracked by the hearth, casting shadows over the stone walls. The scent of old ale, damp wood, and something herbal filled the air.
Few people were here, sat in silence, hoods drawn low, sipping on drinks watching the door as if waiting for something to show up.
A woman stood behind the counter drying a wooden mug with a worn cloth, Dorothy.
She was in her late twenties, her black hair streaked with some strands of silver, tied loosely at her back. Her eyes were fierce and unwavering as if she could see through lies in an instant. She glanced up at Kalen as he entered, her gaze lingered on his bloodied tunic and the sword kept at his hip.
"New, aren't you? I'm Dorothy by the way."
She said setting the wooden mug on the table with a small thunk.
Kalen hesitated before nodding.
"Kalen."
Dorothy sighed, crossing her arms "Another one then, how long were you in the labyrinth for?"
He furrowed his brow "I..I don't know."
She snorted. "Typical."
Without another word, she bent down beneath the counter pulling out a small, jagged metal coin.
"This," she said before tossing it to him "is a Hollow Mark. Currency here in the Dark Hollow, You won't find gold or silver like in those fairy tails. Here, we trade in things that matter - food, survival, and weapons.
Kalen caught the coin, feeling its jagged edges as if it had been a part of something larger.
After Dorothy handed Kalen the Hollow Mark, she asked with a raised brow, "You got 10 of those, right? It's a reward for those who complete the trial. One can't survive without these babies. It's 2 for a bed for 3 days and meals included, of course."
Staring at the pouch the guard had given him, Kalen thought, 'So it's two for a bed and a meal.' His mind worked quickly, weighing the cost. 'Considering how much this costs, I can try and sharpen this sword.
"Alright, deal," Kalen said, accepting the offer.
Dorothy gave a slight nod. "Oh, if you want to, I need some help around here," she said pointing toward the back storage room. "Of course, it's not for free. I'll pay you. You just need to help with serving customers, dealing with those who are too drunk, and helping with the heavy stuff. Simple right?"
"Alright," Kalen responded, nodding as he stood up.
"Alright, perfect. Go up the stairs, Anne will guide you to your room," Dorothy said before returning to her work again.
Kalen walked up the stairs, each step creaking under his weight. The sounds of chatter and laughter from below echoed in the background. As he ascended, he followed Anne, one of the workers in the inn. Anne just walked ahead of him, moving with purpose. Kalen couldn't help but notice the quiet strength in her posture and the way she carried herself.
Her dark brown hair was carried in a messy ponytail, with strands escaping, framing her face. Her amber eyes, sharp and observant, never seemed to miss anything. Anne wore a simple, worn leather vest over her earth-toned shirt. Instead of pants, she wore a long skirt that stopped up to her knees. The skirt was a little faded over the edges, suggesting signs of heavy use, but it allowed her to move swiftly in the busy inn.
Anne led him to the last room on the left. She opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
The room was plain and inviting, a bed draped in white sheets. A small wooden cabinet stood in the corner, likely for storing clothes. Kalen stepped in, and Anne noticed his clothes, bloodied and torn. She smiled gently, holding out a bundle of fresh clothes.
"Here." she said, "It looked like you needed them."
Kalen blinked, surprised. He hadn't realized how bad the state of his clothes was until Anne had pointed it out. "Right," he muttered, a little sheepish before accepting the clothes from Anne.
"It's not easy to survive in the labyrinth. Even coming this far is a sign of great accomplishment. Anne added, her voice soft but firm "Many people die there, left to rot. Lost and Forgotten."
Kalen nodded, feeling the weight of her words. It was a somber reminder of how lucky he had been to survive.
Anne left, and Kalen quickly changed into his new clothes, a plain white t-shirt and simple brown pants. His shoes a little worn, were still usable, so he kept them on. He looked at himself in the mirror, he felt a small sense of relief. At least he didn't look like he crawled out of a grave.
For a moment, he considered going to sleep, the fatigue from the trial weighing on his limbs. But before he could settle into his bed, his stomach let out a loud rumble. He winced, realizing how hungry he was. With a sigh, he grabbed his pouch of Hollow Marks and headed downstairs, deciding that food should come first.