The first thing Alex noticed as the carriage moved wasn't the silence.
It was the absence of time.
The world outside no longer followed the rhythm of dawn or dusk. Beyond the arched windows, stormlight coiled through a violet sky. Ancient, lightning-ridden mountains floated in slow orbit around a blackened sun that neither rose nor set.
Alex sat stiffly across from Nikki in the impossibly large cabin, his shoulder still throbbing from the earlier flare. The mark—the coiled serpent—had gone dormant again, but something in him had shifted. Deep beneath skin and bone, he could feel it now: a second presence, coiled and waiting.
Nikki hadn't spoken much since they boarded. Her eyes roamed the interior, lingering on the faintly glowing runes that pulsed in the ceiling, the bookshelves lined with living ink, the brass lanterns suspended in still air.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
After what felt like hours—or maybe seconds—the carriage slowed. A hum like chimes through deep water vibrated through the floor. Then, a soft click. The door opened.
The robed figure gestured.
"This is your stop. The threshold of Arcanum."
Alex and Nikki stepped out together.
---
The Iron Hollow wasn't a gate. It was a wound. A rift in the mountain face, wide enough to swallow the sky, carved in jagged runes that shimmered like veins beneath old stone.
A narrow bridge stretched across a black chasm, its supports etched in spell-sealings. Beneath it, Alex couldn't see the bottom. Only mist, shifting like something alive.
As they approached, a gust of air blew out from the Hollow, colder than the grave.
Alex shivered. So did Nikki.
The robed man paused at the bridge's mouth.
"You are not students yet. You are initiates. Beyond this threshold lies Arcanum's proving grounds. Each who enters must be tested. Fail, and you are forgotten."
Nikki tensed beside him. "And if we pass?"
The man turned his hood slightly.
"Then you'll be remembered. One way or another."
Alex stared at the bridge. At the Hollow. His heart pounded, but he didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward.
---
The Iron Hollow swallowed them whole.
Inside, the air felt wrong. Thicker. Not with heat, or dust, or moisture—but memory. As if the stones remembered every footstep, every scream.
A soft glow lit the tunnel, cast by floating stones that hovered like lazy fireflies. The runes on the walls shifted as they passed, forming strange, unfamiliar shapes. Some Alex instinctively understood: caution, blood, oath. Others pulsed with hidden meanings just out of reach.
They walked for what felt like hours. There were no doors. No side paths. Just forward.
Then the tunnel opened.
The chamber beyond was enormous—a circular arena, carved from obsidian, bathed in a pale blue light that had no source. Arcane circles glowed faintly on the floor, humming with dormant energy.
At the center stood a tall obsidian monolith.
And next to it: a woman in silver armor, arms folded, eyes cold.
Her gaze cut to them like a blade.
"You're late."
Alex opened his mouth, but no words came.
She stepped forward, silver cloak trailing.
"I am Warden Sera Voss. Instructor of initial trials. If you're here, it means your mark responded. That makes you potential wielders."
She looked at Alex. Her eyes narrowed at his shoulder.
"Yours burns hotter than most."
He shifted, feeling the weight of her stare.
"What is this place?" Nikki asked.
Voss didn't answer.
Instead, she snapped her fingers.
A section of the floor rippled. From the monolith, three humanoid figures emerged—constructs of stone and iron, their limbs jointed by glowing sigils, their eyes empty pits of light.
"Your trial is simple," Voss said.
"Survive."
---
The constructs moved like predators. Silent. Precise.
Alex had no time to think.
One lunged. He rolled aside, drawing the blade at his hip—a simple iron short sword. The edge met the construct's arm with a clang that jolted his wrist.
Too strong. Too heavy.
Beside him, Nikki loosed an arrow that struck one in the eye. It staggered, but didn't fall.
Alex ducked under a wide swing and leapt back. He focused, not on the enemy—but inward.
The mark.
It responded. His blood stirred. His breath slowed.
> Reach deeper.
The voice wasn't his. It echoed from somewhere far, and yet near. Like a heartbeat inside a heartbeat.
Then he felt it.
Power. Raw. Dangerous.
He swung his blade again—and this time, it left a crimson afterimage. The construct's torso split diagonally as if cleaved by a searing wind. It collapsed in pieces.
He gasped.
"What the hell was that?" Nikki yelled.
"I don't know," he said. But his hands trembled. Not from fear—from euphoria.
The second construct charged Nikki. Alex moved without thought, blade glowing. A burst of power surged through his veins—not cast, not chanted. Willed.
A crimson arc cleaved the construct mid-leap.
Only one remained.
It paused. Calculating.
Then it charged Alex alone.
Alex dropped into a defensive stance, blade ready.
The moment came—a blur of motion—and the world tilted.
The construct struck him in the ribs. Pain exploded. He hit the floor hard, coughing blood. The blade fell from his hand.
And in that moment—
> "Now you see."
Time slowed.
He stood in darkness. A ruined throne room. Fire on all sides. A figure stepped from the shadows—silver armor cracked, helm burning.
Kaer Thalor.
The Eidolon.
> "You carry my flame. Let me show you how to wield it."
Alex screamed as power surged through him.
He rose.
Eyes glowing.
Blood steaming.
He raised a hand. The blade flew to him—not with his grip, but his will.
The mark flared.
With a single slash, the final construct shattered.
---
Silence.
Voss stared at him with new eyes. Not surprise. Something closer to recognition. Or fear.
Alex fell to one knee, breathing hard.
Nikki ran to him. "You're bleeding."
"I'm fine," he lied.
Voss approached, studying the scorched floor where the mark had flared.
"You awakened Eidric Binding," she said slowly. "And survived."
Alex blinked. "Is that what this is?"
Voss's expression tightened.
"No. That's what you are."
--