Dawn came with no warmth.
The bells of Zareth tolled like a storm deep, metallic chimes that reverberated through the very stone of the city. Each ring echoed with power, shaking loose the sleep of even the most hardened mages.
I hadn't slept.
How could I?
I was about to risk my life in a trial designed to weed out the weak, the unworthy, the broken.
And if I failed… I'd be cast into the Void Quarry a massive crater beneath the floating city said to be the graveyard of failed initiates and lost knowledge, swallowed by ancient magic and darkness without end.
No one had ever returned.
🔹 The Trial Grounds
Two guards came for me at sunrise silent, masked, clad in enchanted armor that shimmered faintly as they moved. They didn't speak. They simply handed me a plain black tunic and boots, then escorted me through the twisting halls of the tower into the open air.
What I saw next stole my breath.
The Trial Grounds weren't an arena.
They were a floating island of their own, suspended beside the main city by chains of glowing energy, surrounded by a translucent magical barrier. A massive crowd had already gathered in tiered stands built into the cliffs. Students, nobles, instructors, and even soldiers some young, others ancient watched with quiet interest.
Seven stone platforms floated in the center of the island. Atop each was a symbol glowing in brilliant blue runes Mind, Body, Spirit, Magic, Will, Blood, and Void.
"You are an initiate," one of the guards said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was mechanical, magically altered. "You must complete three Trials. They will test your strength, your mind, and your soul. If you pass, you will be accepted into the City of Zareth. If you fail, you will fall."
"Fall?" I asked.
He pointed to the edge of the island. I approached and looked down.
Below was the Void Quarry.
A swirling pit of shadow and energy, devouring everything that touched it. Screams not from the living, but from something ancient and angry echoed faintly from its depths.
I stepped back quickly.
No safety net. No mercy.
This was real.
🔹 Trial One: The Trial of Body
The first platform pulsed beneath my feet as I stepped onto it. The crowd hushed. Arkon stood high above on a floating dais, arms crossed, face impassive.
Suddenly, the platform expanded, reshaping itself into a wide arena.
A loud rumble echoed across the air, and then emerging from the floor came a beast.
Eight feet tall. Covered in gray, rock-hard hide. Glowing eyes. Tusks. Four arms, each ending in spiked gauntlets. A Trial Golem.
"Defeat it," a voice announced. "With no weapon but your mind and fists."
I swallowed hard.
The beast charged.
I didn't wait.
My instincts from Earth the years of martial arts training, reflex conditioning kicked in. I ducked beneath the first punch and rolled across the stone. My bare fists struck its side but it was like punching steel. My knuckles split. Pain flared. It didn't even flinch.
I couldn't win this through brute force.
But it was a golem.
Which meant…
Runes.
I dodged another swing and slid beneath its legs, my eyes scanning its body. Most of it was armor. But near the back of its neck I saw it. A glowing rune, half-buried in the stone plating.
A core seal.
That was its weak point.
I needed to get higher.
The golem swung, sending a shockwave across the arena. I was flung backward, skidding across the platform. Blood trickled from my temple. My lungs burned. My arms ached.
But I got up.
The crowd began to murmur. Few initiates lasted this long without magic. Fewer still stood after being thrown.
The golem roared and charged again.
I sprinted at it not away.
Just as it swung, I leapt. I used its arm as a ramp, dashed up its shoulder, grabbed one of the protruding tusks, and swung myself up behind its head.
I reached the rune and slammed my fist into it.
Once. Twice. A third time blood pouring from my hand until the stone cracked.
The golem let out a deafening screech. Its body shuddered. Light burst from the rune and with a final crash, it collapsed to the ground in pieces.
Silence.
Then a bell tolled once.
"Trial of Body: Passed."
I collapsed to my knees, gasping, bleeding, but smiling.
🔹 Trial Two: The Trial of Mind
After a brief magical healing just enough to stop the bleeding, not enough to restore my strength I was escorted to the second platform.
This one was different.
It was a maze of floating mirrors, each one reflecting not just my image but fragments of memories. Some were mine. Some… were not.
"The mind is your strongest weapon or your greatest prison," the voice echoed. "You must find the Truth of Your Self."
A riddle. A test of perception, memory, and logic.
I stepped into the maze. Each mirror whispered as I passed:
"You are still a slave."
"You will never be enough."
"This world will eat you alive."
I kept walking.
My past haunted me, images of Earth, the crash, the flames. But also memories I didn't recognize… a throne of fire. A sword of light. A woman screaming my name across a battlefield.
Visions of another life… or a future?
At the center of the maze was a final mirror tall, cracked, and covered in black mist.
"Who are you?" it asked.
I stared at my reflection.
Not the broken boy. Not the dead student.
But the man I was becoming.
"I am the one who will rise."
The mirror shattered and the maze dissolved around me.
A second toll of the bell.
"Trial of Mind: Passed."
🔹 Trial Three: The Trial of Spirit
The final platform was the smallest.
A simple stone pedestal. A glowing flame hovered above it, white and pure.
I was told to sit.
And wait.
The flame descended and entered me.
And I was not ready.
I was plunged into my own soul.
My regrets. My sins. My failures. Everything I had ever buried came rushing out.
The girl I failed to save in the car. The fights I walked away from. The moments I gave up when I should've fought.
"You are not worthy," a voice said inside me.
"You are just a scared boy pretending to be brave."
I screamed. I clawed at the void. I begged.
And then… I remembered.
Not the pain.
But the choice.
I chose to live.
I chose to fight.
I chose to rise.
The fire flared and expelled itself from my chest. I collapsed, gasping, tears on my cheeks.
A third bell rang.
"Trial of Spirit: Passed."
🔹 The Verdict
The platforms lowered.
I stood, bruised, bloodied, exhausted.
The crowd murmured in stunned silence.
Then Arkon stepped forward, voice like thunder:
"The initiate… has passed all three trials. He is no longer a slave. No longer a stranger."
"He is now of Zareth."
The crowd erupted into applause.
But I didn't smile.
I only looked up past the city, past the towers, past the sky.
Toward the throne I would one day seize.