Episode 3 – The Whisper of Trials
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The next morning arrived without warning. No sunbeam pierced the cell. No birds sang. The only sign of time's passage was the steady drip of water echoing somewhere beyond the stone corridors.
Zane sat against the wall, breathing slow, mind still haunted by visions. The throne. The screaming sky. The way he looked while sitting upon it.
He didn't feel like a king. He felt like a time bomb.
The chains around his wrists had stopped glowing sometime during the night. He couldn't tell if that was good or not.
The door creaked open again.
Sylfa entered—but this time, she wasn't alone.
Two figures followed her: one was a stocky man in ornate armor, his eyes scanning Zane with practiced scrutiny. The other was a woman in deep blue robes, her hair tied back in dozens of silver-threaded braids. Her eyes were blindfolded, yet her presence somehow felt like she saw everything.
Sylfa stepped forward. "Zane. This is Magister Vaelik of the Arbiters, and Seeress Helryn of the Inner Eye."
Zane nodded slowly. "Pleasure."
Neither of them responded.
Magister Vaelik turned to Sylfa. "Undo the seal."
Sylfa hesitated. "He's still unstable—"
"Undo it," the blindfolded woman interrupted, her voice like wind over frozen glass. "If he lashes out, I'll see it before he does."
Zane swallowed.
Sylfa knelt, chanting softly. The chalk rings around Zane's cell shimmered, then evaporated like mist. The binding magic dissolved. He felt the pressure lift—just a little—but the chains still hummed faintly, keeping his body locked.
Magister Vaelik stepped forward, unsheathing a strange metallic rod from his back. It crackled with pale-blue light. "Stand, summoner."
Zane slowly did.
"I am here to confirm your eligibility for the Trials. You will not be judged by what you were, but by what you become. Fail, and you will be exiled. Succeed…"
He trailed off.
Zane raised an eyebrow. "And if I do succeed?"
Vaelik tilted his head. "Then the world may yet survive your existence."
Helryn stepped forward now. Her voice was gentle, but it made Zane's head throb. "Open your mind."
Zane winced. "What?"
"You bear the remnant of a god. I must ensure it is dormant… or shackled. Otherwise, you are too dangerous to release."
Zane opened his mouth to protest—but the moment Helryn's hand touched his forehead, everything went silent.
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Inward.
Zane's soul cracked open like a mirror under strain.
He stood in a black void, facing a thing. A colossal presence wrapped in chains that looped through space itself. Its face was obscured, but it had eyes—shifting orbs of gold and crimson, locked onto him like a hunter.
"You are not ready," it growled.
Zane stepped back. "I didn't ask for you to be in here!"
"You broke the Veil," the voice thundered. "I merely found shelter in the aftermath."
Helryn's voice echoed through the blackness. "Do you resist him?"
Zane clenched his fists. "I don't know if I can. But I will try."
The chains around the god pulsed, tightening.
"Then try harder, boy," it whispered. "Before I stop pretending to sleep."
---
Zane gasped as he was yanked back into reality. He staggered but didn't fall.
Helryn stepped away, her blindfold fluttering in a breeze that didn't exist. "He contains it. Barely. But he will draw attention. You must prepare him quickly."
She vanished without another word.
Magister Vaelik nodded once to Sylfa. "The Trials begin at sundown."
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Later that day, Zane was led through the inner halls of the Sanctum—far different from the cold cell he'd been in. This place felt alive. Crystals floated in the air, glowing faintly. Tomes turned their own pages. Students trained in magic circles drawn onto black stone.
He passed others—boys and girls his age, all glancing at him with suspicion or curiosity. They knew he was the outsider.
Sylfa led him to a chamber lit by fireless torches. A training room.
Waiting inside was someone Zane hadn't expected.
Riven.
He leaned casually against a pillar, tossing his glowing apple from hand to hand. "You made it out. Good."
Zane narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess. Babysitter duty?"
"Not quite. I'm your sponsor for the Trials." Riven smiled. "Sylfa vouched for you, but she's not allowed to train summoners. I am."
Zane glanced at Sylfa, who nodded. "He's qualified. Barely."
Riven clapped his hands. "Alright, Zane. Time to see what you're made of."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "With my chains still on?"
"Oh, don't worry," Riven said as magic swirled around him. "I'll fight with one hand tied behind my back. Literally."
---
The room trembled as their duel began.
Zane moved on instinct, dodging a blast of force magic. Riven moved like water, his strikes elegant and cruel. Zane couldn't land a hit—but he was fast. Faster than he should've been.
The god inside was leaking.
And Zane could feel it. Like stepping into borrowed boots made for titans.
He lunged, and his punch cracked the stone floor. Riven parried with ease, but he was grinning now.
"Good. You're already using fragments."
Zane gasped, lungs burning. "That… that wasn't me."
"No," Riven said, spinning into a kick that stopped inches from Zane's head. "But it's part of you now."
The fight ended.
Zane collapsed to one knee, sweat pouring down his face.
Sylfa knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have a long road ahead."
Zane looked up at her, his breath shaky but steady. "Then I'd better start walking."