Alaric had barely risen to his feet when the ground beneath him seemed to tremble with a low, menacing rumble. It was as if the very earth was alive, shifting in response to the weight of his presence. He wiped his brow, his hands slick with a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the fire still consuming the village. The whisper in his mind—a voice neither his nor anything he recognised—lingered, a subtle hum beneath his thoughts. The journey has only begun.
His pulse quickened. The stillness around him felt fragile, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to snap. He knew, in the deepest part of his being, that the moment he stepped forward, nothing would ever be the same. The fire had consumed the village, but it was nothing compared to the trials that lay ahead.
He turned, looking back at the village one last time. Its destruction was absolute, and yet, it felt like only the beginning of something far more sinister. The village had not been razed by mere flames; it had been swallowed by them, devoured as though to erase its very existence.
Alaric shook his head. It was no longer the time to dwell on the past. He had to move forward.
With a deep breath, he pushed forward through the smoke. Each step felt heavier than the last. The charred remains of what once had been homes and hearths loomed like broken memories, as if the earth itself mourned what had been lost. There was no sign of life, no sound but the crackling of distant fires.
But then, as if the smoke itself had parted, Alaric saw it.
A path.
A narrow trail cut through the blackened landscape, flanked by jagged stones that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. The whispering voice in his mind grew louder, a cacophony of words he could not fully comprehend, urging him onwards. The path beckoned, its end hidden by the shadows.
The first step felt like a betrayal, as though each movement was carrying him further away from the man he had once been. But there was no turning back now. His feet carried him forward, each step echoing in the silence, as though the earth was weighing him, testing him.
And then, as he entered the heart of the path, it happened.
The ground beneath him shifted, and the stones that lined the path began to tremble. The very air around him began to hum, a strange vibration that pulsed through his bones. A voice, louder now, filled his mind. It was not the whispering one from before—it was different, a sharp, commanding presence.
You are not ready.
Alaric stopped, frozen in place, his heart racing. The voice echoed in his head, louder now, unmistakable. It wasn't a mere warning. It was a challenge.
He swallowed, the air thick in his throat. His senses heightened. The hum in the air intensified, the vibrations pressing into him, seeping into his skin. The path before him seemed to stretch on forever, a winding road that disappeared into nothingness.
The First Trial awaits.
Without warning, the stones beneath his feet cracked, splintering like broken glass. Alaric stumbled back, his hands reaching out for something to steady himself. His breath came in short, panicked gasps.
And then, from the cracks in the earth, they emerged.
Shapes. Figures.
No, not figures—beasts. They rose from the ground like dark shadows given form. Their bodies were blackened, featureless, but their eyes—those eyes—glowed with an unnatural light, burning with a fire that mirrored the flames of the village. Their forms were massive, shifting between shapes like smoke and flame, as though they were born of the very earth itself. Their jaws dripped with something darker than blood.
Alaric's mind screamed at him to run, to flee, but his legs refused to obey. He stood frozen, caught in the gaze of the creatures as they surrounded him. The air grew thick and heavy, as though the space itself had been swallowed by their presence. The ground trembled beneath him.
The voice—the commanding one—spoke again, this time louder than before.
You must face them. Only then will you move forward.
Alaric's pulse raced. He could feel the weight of the trial bearing down on him, the pressure of the air closing in. He wanted to run. But this was the moment. The trial had begun.
The beasts lunged.
He barely had time to react. The first creature—a massive, shadowy figure with claws like jagged rocks—swung at him. Alaric dodged, rolling to the side, his body instinctively reacting faster than his mind could process. The creature's claws slashed through the air, missing him by mere inches.
His heart thudded in his chest. His breath was ragged, panic clawing at his insides, but there was no time for fear. The beast turned, its eyes burning like twin suns, its mouth snapping open, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth.
Alaric's hands shook, his mind racing for a way out, a way to survive. He couldn't fight them—not like this. He was alone. Weak. Unprepared. The trial had already begun, and he was being crushed beneath its weight.
But then, a memory surfaced.
A fleeting thought. A lesson he had once learnt.
Strength wasn't in fighting with brute force. It was in knowing when to strike, when to move, when to step aside. His body moved without thought, his instincts taking over. He dove to the side, just as the beast lunged again, its jaws snapping shut in mid-air. He rolled, his hands grabbing a jagged stone from the ground.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
The creature turned, its eyes locked on him once again. This time, there was no hesitation. Alaric thrust the stone forward, driving it into the creature's throat. It shrieked, a guttural, inhuman sound, as its form began to flicker and fade.
And then it was gone.
Alaric's body was trembling, his breath ragged, his pulse deafening in his ears. He didn't know how he had done it. He didn't care. The beast was gone, and that was all that mattered.
But there was no time to rest.
The other creatures were closing in.
Alaric wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind clearing for a moment. He didn't have much time. They were faster than he was, and they were closing in, their forms growing larger with each passing second.
But he was no longer the same man who had stumbled into the village.
He had been tested.
And he would pass this trial—no ma
tter the cost.
With a roar, he charged.