The Trial Begins

The flames from the sigil had finally died down, leaving the room eerily silent. Soot drifted through the air like ash in the aftermath of a volcano. Darius kept a cautious hand on the hilt of his sword, while Elara warily circled the stone pedestal.

“Was that part of the test?” she asked, voice still edged with annoyance. “Or was that just some fancy magical booby trap?”

The hooded keeper gave a cryptic smile. “Both.”

Before Elara could fire off another comment, the sigil on the pedestal pulsed again; this time not with fire, but a soft blue light. Four more symbols appeared around it, forming a circle. Each glowed faintly: a sword, an eye, a flame, and a feather.

Darius reached out instinctively toward the eye. As his fingers brushed the symbol, the room trembled. The floor beneath them shimmered like water; and then, without a sound, the keeper vanished.

“They just disappeared,” Elara said, wide eyed. “Did you see that?”

“I did,” Darius muttered, stepping back from the pedestal. “And I’m not touching anything else until we figure out what’s going on.”

Before they could regroup, the symbols pulsed again; and this time, the ground beneath them gave out entirely.

They fell.

Down, down, through darkness and flickers of glowing runes, until the world snapped back into focus.

They landed hard on a forest floor. Tall trees arched above them, glowing faintly with bioluminescent moss. The air smelled sweet, almost dreamlike.

Darius groaned and sat up, brushing leaves off his coat. “Where the hell are we?”

Elara pointed toward a carved stone marker ahead, lit by a flickering lamp. On it were the same four symbols.

“I think,” she said, “we’ve just started the real trial.”